I'm So Full Of You-Know-What.... Or Am I?

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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There's some minor language in this post. Sensitive eyes and ears be warned!

I sat down to write my fifth and final post in my "Lessons from BeTA" series, but I just can't right now.

This morning was... Awful.

I failed at therapeutic parenting. And so did Husband. And we failed hard.

We broke all the rules of therapeutic parenting you can think of, and now I'm not sure how to repair the fallout from this morning.

I try so hard to channel my inner Christine Moers, Lindsay Woodward Crapo, Karyn Purvis, Daniel Hughes and stay therapeutic through these hard moments, but I so often fail.

I know all the therapeutic parenting principles, and I believe in them. I know my kids "from hard places" need calm, stable, loving parents to heal from their early-childhood trauma, and that every time Husband and I lose our cool and revert to crappy authoritarian parenting we are undoing days, weeks, sometimes months of progress we've made.

I know all of this, yet I still find myself yelling at my kids and sending them to their room when I find them engaging in egregious behavior. This morning, Little left his room before anyone's alarm went off, went to Middle and started terrorizing her by hitting her and kicking her bed. When she got up to tell us, he played his sympathy card and started crying, so she laid back down. Only to have him come back and hurt her and harass her again. And again. And again. I don't know how long this went on, but at one point their angry voices roused me from my sleep, and suddenly I was yelling at Little and telling him he had to stay in his room alone until an adult told him he could come out.

Big therapeutic parenting no-no, especially when I know, logically, that isolation is one of his triggers.

Things devolved further into Crapsville when Husband reverted to his own default methods of authoritarian parenting.

And here we are. Unhappy kids, unhappy parents, and an uncomfortable atmosphere hanging in the air, dooming any chance we had at having a happy day.

And I don't know how to fix it right now. So I'm not. I'm hiding in my room chatting about this morning's events on my Facebook support groups and trying to process what happened through writing about it here. Oldest is in here with me playing on the computer, Middle is watching Where the Wild Things Are, and Husband is monitoring Little who is still in his room. Everyone is safe and okayish, but we're certainly not fostering a loving environment today... Unfortunately, I don't know if either of us has the gusto needed to pick up the pieces from this morning, glue them back into some semblance of a functioning household, and carry on. I'm sure we will get there soon, but I honestly do not know if it will be today. Because I don't think I can handle myself well if I try to repair with Little only to have him laugh in my face as soon as I believe I've made an impact (which is usually what happens... I will come away from a soothing moment with Little thinking the rest of the day will be okay and then literally two minutes later I find him engaging in unsafe or hurtful behavior).

I try to portray myself as a therapeutic parenting guru here on this blog, because I want so badly to help other parents who are struggling with the demands of helping traumatized children heal from their early-life experiences. I have all the knowledge to write informed articles that dole out advice to other trauma moms and put a positive spin on the adverse events our family continuously finds ourselves in, and I believe that my words can and do help others looking for answers to their children's inexplicable behavior.

But today, as I sat down to write an inspiring article discussing how one event at the BeTA retreat showed me how much I really love all my kids, how much I love my stepchildren even though they struggle with attachment and therefore find it very hard to love them sometimes, all I could think to myself was, "Oh, man... I am so full of shit."

And that thought has been echoing around in my brain all day long.

I really believe that to be true about myself at this particular moment. But after talking with other trauma parents online all morning and discussing in great detail everything that happened today, I have to ask myself... Am I really? Am I really just bullshitting when I write on this blog, or comment on Facebook with tips or advice, or attending presentations on RAD and sharing my story?

Would I think less of my aforementioned parenting gurus if they told me about their hard days with their kids, the days they lost their tempers and yelled or isolated or even spanked their kids?

Well... No. No, I wouldn't. In fact, when I see my gurus discussing their own parenting failures, as awful as they can be, I'm actually comforted by their admissions because it shows me that even the most apparently calm-cool-and-collected therapeutic parenting coaches, bloggers, vloggers, and counselors screw up from time to time. Sometimes they screw up big, and sometimes they screw up small, and sometimes they get it just right.

There's a reason I mention Christine Moers so often on my blog in addition to the fact that I'm a huge fangirl of hers (and I'm a little nervous I'll act like a groupie or something when I finally get to meet her this April). I credit her with saving my family when it was about to break, and I know I'm not the only trauma parent to say that. She is a "big name" in trauma parent circles, because she's amazing. And wonderful. And just seems so very zen. Surely she never screws up, right? I want to be JUST LIKE HER, DAMN IT!

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHmEF_u_bjg&w=560&h=315]

Huh.

Maybe I am more like her than I realize.

And even though I feel like admitting my failures undermines my credibility as someone who claims to know how to do this therapeutic parenting thing, I think it's much more important to be honest during my hard times than to pretend they aren't happening, that they don't exist, that I've therapeutically parented the RAD-behaviors right out of my kids and that we are living happily ever after.

Sharing our hard moments, admitting our failures and discussing our shame and anger surrounding them, is incredibly important. We need to be reassured by one another during our biggest struggles, to be told by other parents who live this trauma life, "Hey... I've been there. Okay, sure... You 'did it wrong,' today, but tomorrow is a new day. Go eat some cake." We need to share our "bad moments" with other trauma parents so we can get support and gain insight on how to improve things. If you're feeling brave, I encourage you to share your hard experiences with others whether that be through your support groups, your social media groups, or even in the comments section of this blog.

When you share, you might find help. Earlier today, one trauma mom suggested I throw this morning out, turn on some good dance music and just get silly with Little today (a suggestion my wonderful mom also frequently makes!). And I'm trying very hard to talk myself into doing just that, to get past my fear of being manipulated and hurt by a freaking child and go do what's right.

I'm not there yet, and I may not get there today.

But there's always tomorrow.

Lessons from the BeTA Retreat... Short and Silly Lessons, Plus One Important Realization

1. My husband really, really, really needs a break from the kids. Like, seriously. He almost never gets a break because I can not handle Little's violent tendencies by myself. The frequency of his violent meltdowns has slowed considerably, but he still gets going every so often, and I'm still not confident in my ability to protect myself and him, and stay calm through the entire episode. Now, I'm not sure how we will accomplish time off for him, but I hope we can figure out a way for him to take a weekend and go do whatever the heck he wants to do.
2. My husband needs to start playing guitar again.
3. Orlando water is NOT awesome.
4. Orlando is NOT very close to the ocean.
5. I seriously need to make an effort to have more female friends.
6. I definitely need to make an effort to have more friends who live near me, who I can see in person and physically hug instead of just commenting on their Facebook posts with a pitiful little thing like ::hugs::
7. Riunite wine is super duper tasty. I'm pretty sure I've said that a bunch of times.
8. I don't care much for baklava.
9. Our bodies absorb and react to trauma, and we can feel a whole lot better by getting treatment through a licensed massage therapist. I just had my first craniosacral massage Thursday and throughly enjoyed it. A lot of the resources on the internet say that type of treatment is "quackery," but even if it is, and I don't believe that it is, it gave me an hour of quiet and relaxation. Can't go wrong with that!
10. I really, really must love the BeTA ladies, because TWICE during my time there I woke up before 10 a.m. on my own volition! And oh, I'm so glad I did because I got to see the sweetest and most elaborate marriage proposal I have ever seen. Okay, it was the only engagement proposal I've ever seen in real life outside of my own (which was super sweet as well - don't get me wrong!). But still, it was very well planned and incredibly moving. I am so thrilled I got to be a part of that.
11. Having boudoir photos taken of me and seeing the edited results has made me realize that I'm still pretty darn sexay.

    

    Bow-chicka-bow-wow! I *totally* want to show everyone my pictures from my photo shoot. However, I realize that over sharing is just NOT appropriate. Also, my mom and in-laws read this blog from time to time, so I figured liberal use of the cropping tool was in order here.

Thanks to this Trauma Mama for the photo shoot! If you live in NE Indiana and are in need of a photographer, check her out at Sheri Rouse Photography!

And, finally, I knew when I left home that I love my kids, but on my trip I realized that I really, really, REALLY love my kids. All of my kids. A lot. And equally. Differently? Sure. Loving kids with attachment disorder is hard work and is different than any other kind of love I've ever experienced. But just because the love I feel for my stepchildren is a little different than the love I feel for Oldest doesn't mean it's not equally overflowing from my heart.

And that's a topic for an entire blog post, coming soon.

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This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.
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Lessons from the BeTA Retreat... Self Care Is NOT Optional!

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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I have written before on the importance of self-care, but my weekend at the BeTA Retreat really drove that message home for me.

Before I left, I was in one of my "dark places." I felt frustrated every time I took a breath and my face ached from all the frowning and brow furrowing I'd been doing. I was losing my temper with the kids on an almost-daily basis and once again questioning my decision to willingly sign up for life as a Trauma Mama.

One week before I got in my car and drove to Florida, I had a panic attack that sent me to my knees in my kitchen. The cause? Middle and Little threw a toy while they were playing.

Clearly I was physically drained and mentally exhausted. I was in desperate need of self-care.

But self-care is hard to accomplish in my house. There is always some crisis with the children I have to help manage. I have to organize and take three children to their many, many, many appointments. I have to converse with teachers on a near-daily basis regarding some unhappy incident that occurred during the school day. I have to make sure I'm taking time to keep my marriage healthy and not neglecting my husband and make sure he's not getting overloaded as well. So I ignore my own needs for entirely too long.

The result? An unhappy Trauma Mama, unhappy kids, unhappy home.

It's hard for me to remember that when I take time to care for myself I am doing everyone a favor. I am much more likely to handle trauma-related behaviors when I have nourished my own mind and body with self-care. I also stop hyper-focusing on negative behaviors when I've had a short break from the onslaught of drama the kids like to throw at me... And this allows me to enjoy my kids instead of simply managing them.

Many thanks to this Trauma Mama for letting me use this image, and for introducing me to Riunite wine... A nightly glass (maybe two on the really rough days!) of that has become part of my daily self-care routine. Relaxing and tasty!

Many thanks to this Trauma Mama for allowing me to use her image capturing her appointment with a henna tattoo artist (who also happens to be a Trauma Mama!) - beautiful self-care that provided a reminder of the weekend for days after the event's conclusion. She inspires me with her unconditional love for her children no matter how challenging the behavior can get from time to time.

So. Self-care is not optional. You must do something for yourself on a regular basis or you will crash and burn. I'm shooting for more self-care and have started with the following:

1. Drink a glass of wine with dinner - two on those super stressful days.
2. Ask for quiet time after the kids go to bed (Husband likes to start "adulting" and chatting immediately after we tuck the kids in and I prefer an hour or so alone to calm down. I never asked for this before because I was afraid I would hurt his feelings... But I learned at the BeTA Retreat that I need my alone time... and I need to ask for it.
3. Blogging, and writing in general. All my life, I've dreamed of becoming a real-life, bona fide author... But my schedule and the current state of the publishing industry has made that goal a little tricky. Blogging and writing articles for various webzines fulfills my need to express myself and it also allows me to share the effects of early-childhood trauma with the world (or, if not the world, the people who visit my blog or read my articles published elsewhere). And I'm pleased to discover that it's just as satisfying as I imagined publishing a novel would be!
4. Coloring. Adult coloring books are awesome. And I even sometimes find that coloring with my kids on our giant Pirasta posters offers me a chance to catch my breath and relax!
5. Taking a shower. When I was pregnant with Oldest, I swore I'd never fall into the "haggard mom who can not remember to clean herself because she's so overworked" category of moms... But a lot of the time I will catch a whiff of myself and realize that I haven't showered in three, maybe four, days. Seriously. You can't feel good if you are grimy. Fact. I plan on adding daily makeup once I increase my showering frequency.
6. Reading. I really need to start reading for fun again. Break out the Jodi Piccoult, it's time to relax!

One of my BeTA friends did my make-up for the boudoir photos I had done via Sheri Rouse. Oooh la la!

I'm finally taking self-care seriously. Are you? What do you do to practice self-care? Leave your tips in the comments!

Lessons from the BeTA Retreat... Trauma Unites Us!

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

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When Husband and I awoke one January morning in 2015, we sprang from our bed full of hope. Middle and Oldest were back in school after the winter break, I was heading out to attend a workshop on Reactive Attachment Disorder, and Husband was taking Little to The Nurturing Center, a behavioral health center for families recovering from the effects of trauma that offers a therapeutic daycare, play therapy, art therapy for parents, parenting classes, and even Parent-Child Interaction Therapy (PCIT). I was sad I was missing the first day of our treatment program, but Husband and I were both excited and couldn't wait to interact with other trauma parents for the very first time.

Today is the day it starts to get better, we thought.

The weeks leading up to this warm winter's day had been rough. Little and Middle had gone on a two-week supervised visit with BioMom over Christmas break, and they missed her terribly. They were also having a hard time readjusting to the way Husband and I run our household, and then we had to further disrupt the kids when we were forced to pull Little from the Head Start Program he'd just started.

Don't get me wrong, the Head Start Program isn't a bad program... but the teachers at our assigned location were not trauma-informed (they yelled... excessively... and put kids in time-out frequently... they were over-worked and over-crowded and didn't notice things like Little having an accident in his pants), and they had no interest in changing their tactics in spite of a huge spike in the frequency, intensity and duration of Little's rages. They kept trying to tell me everything was fine... even when he started deliberately engaging in behavior that could have killed me and on our drive home each day. Let me tell you, an infuriated five-year-old boy screaming, "I hope you die! You're a loser!" while throwing his shoes and then his full backpack at your head as you drive 60 mph down the highway is a terrifying thing to experience, made even worse because the meltdown occurred over the simple fact that I refused to roll his window down - because he always tried to crawl out of it! WTF child?! Is my desire to keep you safe really that freaking awful?!

Anyway. I think that gives you an idea as to how angry the kids were, and I think you can guess who received the brunt of their frustration with these events and changes that laid beyond their realm of control...

 

Yep. Middle and Little declared us enemy combatants when they returned from their visit. They held steady with their RAD torture tactics for months.[/caption] So, when we woke that day, with visions of family harmony and unicorns and rainbows prancing around our heads, we were understandably excited as we went our separate ways for the day. 

I arrived at the training early, anxious to learn and mingle with other trauma parents. I tried to talk to the other parents in the room and discovered they were all foster parents. I also found out that the other parents in the room didn't actually have children diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder, but enrolled in the class for certification credits. When the lady teaching the class began, she asked me to describe RAD since I was the only person who had children with the diagnosis.

"It's... It's pretty crazy. I've never seen kids act this way before." 

"Elaborate, please." 

"Well... Okay, when my kids had been with us about a month, I almost left because I thought they were sociopaths -" 

"Are you a medical professional?" she asked. 

"No... But -" 

"Let's be careful throwing words like 'sociopath' around, then." 

Pause... "Okay, well, that's the best way I can describe how I felt when I didn't know what was - "

"Anyone else have any experience with RAD?" 

........ 

Things only got worse from there. The lady teaching the class actually told me I was telling her a "really weird story" when I described how my stepdaughter did well at school but came home and blew up. "Kids with RAD can't do well in any environment," she said, cutting me off. I stayed for the entire class, but as a stepmom in a room full of foster parents, I didn't find the community I was looking for. I was heartbroken. 

I called Husband around 12:30 in tears, only to discover that he, too, was in tears. The Nurturing Center was not quite what we thought it would be. We'd anticipated attending parent classes that would teach us how to better practice therapeutic parenting... Instead we discovered that the program was geared more toward basic parenting skills and self-improvement. Most of the parents in the program were struggling in different ways than we were, and Husband had almost left at the conclusion of the morning session because he was so frustrated by our misunderstanding. That's not to say the program isn't amazing - it is. The staff and medical personnel at The Nurturing Center helped us out a lot... In fact, I don't know if I would have been able to continue caring for Little if they hadn't helped us, especially through the therapeutic daycare and PCIT. I also met some wonderful parents there and remain friends with them to this day. However, we'd been working under the assumption that we would learn things like the SPACE method and the damaging effects of trauma on the brains of children... to say our disappointment was staggering is a bit of an understatement. 

So when a friend of mine from the internet (who also step-parented her kiddo with RAD) asked me to come to the BeTA retreat, I hesitated. "I don't know. I don't know if I will fit in. Husband and I never find people in our situation in groups like that, and it really sucks," I said. "I don't know if I can take a whole weekend of not fitting in." 

"Trust me," my friend said. "You'll find people. It's an amazing experience. You don't want to miss it." 

And oh, how right she was. 

You see, parenting kids "from hard places" gives us all common ground and our shared parenting experience transcends our differences in lifestyle. 

We are united by trauma. 

At the retreat, I met bio moms, step-moms, foster moms, adoptive moms, and women raising their grandchildren, cousins, siblings, or nieces and nephews. People from all sorts of different religious affiliations and backgrounds (this was a big one for me as an agnostic... so many groups for trauma parents base their strategy in religion and as I've said that approach just doesn't work for me). I met moms who had happy childhoods with their birth parents, happy childhoods with adoptive or foster parents, and those who experienced adversity and trauma in their youngest years. I met others who have a happy relationship with their husband, those struggling to keep their marriage intact while they battle their kids' trauma issues, and those whose marriages have ended. I met single moms, moms with same-sex partners, and moms who exist in completely "traditional" family units. Moms younger than me, older than me, and the same age as me. Moms who like gospel music, moms who like gangster rap, moms who rock out to heavy metal. People who curse like sailors (as I tend to do in real life!) and people who probably thought we should wash our mouths out with soap. Drinkers. Abstainers. Liberals. Conservatives. Democrats. Republicans. Libertarians. 

Some of the people I got closest to during the retreat are so very different than me, but we had the commonality of raising kids with trauma, and further we felt the same way about the whole experience - we shared our simultaneous hope and hopelessness and we understood each other in a way I haven't experienced since I was a child.  

And none of our differences mattered. If you're a trauma parent and haven't found your community yet, I can't emphasize enough how important it is to find a group of people you can meet with in "real life." Even if those meetings happen only once a year, they play a vitally important role in keeping your sanity amid the chaos of raising our children. If you attend one event and don't find what you're looking for, don't give up! Keep looking. You'll find something. And when you do... You'll wonder how you ever survived without your "people" standing beside you, united by trauma. 

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There's an amazing event coming up in April just for us trauma parents... Parenting in SPACE! Billy Kaplan, Christine Moers, Lindsay Woodward Crapo and many others will lead classes in the art of therapeutic parenting. Registration time is coming to a close, so if you are interested in attending be sure to check out the website soon! ****************************************************************

Lessons from the BeTA Retreat: Online Support Pales in Comparison to In-Person Support

Lesson #1: Online support groups are amazing and necessary, but pale in comparison to in-person support.

I don't get out much. I'm an introvert with a mild case of Only Child Syndrome. I worry about the judgment of others and burst into very dramatic tears when I think I've done something to upset someone I consider a friend. I have a hard time understanding the nuances of my interpersonal relationships outside of my husband, my childhood friends, and my mom, so I constantly worry I'll screw up blossoming friendships. My heart races and I feel a little nauseous when I'm out of my comfort zone, and things get really serious when I'm not completely in charge of my plans. I never carpool on the rare occasions I get together with friends because I need to be able to leave at my leisure. Riding with someone robs me of that freedom. I prefer quiet environments that allow me to have my own space, and I struggle with unexpected physical contact... I lived in Hawaii for six years and never got comfortable with the "greeting kiss."

At the same time, I crave social attention. I want a million friends, I want to be invited places, I want to have one of those "girl friendships" I see on TV shows and movies... You know, where my BFF and I get in our pajamas and get a little cuddly as we bond over the latest chick-flick. And that's why I love the internet. I'm great at online friendships that don't require that up-close, face-to-face, outside-of-my-house-so-I-should-get-dressed interaction of "real" friendships. I can find any type of person I want to be friends with on the 'net... Trauma Moms, moms in general, people who like the HBO show The Leftovers (seriously... that show is amazing), and we don't have to go through that tedious small-talk to deduce good conversational topics that's so common in "real life."

I heard about the BeTA retreat a while back via this blog and part of me really wanted to go. It sounded amazing... Four days with other moms who struggle with their traumatized children?! How cool! Right? I spent an hour or two digging deeper into the internet, trying to find out all I could about this retreat... and then I decided it sounded like "too much" for me to handle and put it out of my mind. Then, a few months ago, one of my online friends told me I should attend the BeTA retreat. I hemmed and hawed a little, but eventually decided to take her advice. I took a few deep breaths, bit that bullet, and signed up. The organizers of this amazing event added me to some groups where I could ask a million questions (I did) and talk to other moms who planned on attending the 2016 retreat (I did!). I made friends in the groups and when I left for the retreat I felt excited about meeting all these people in person!

... And then I got there.

Things were pretty crazy at the event's location that first day. There were over 100 women milling around between houses, and most of them seemed to already know each other. As I walked up to the main house, I saw women hugging and squealing with delight, and I started shaking. I walked into the greeting house and stood just outside of the kitchen, silently pleading with my eyes for someone - anyone - to come and take me under their wing. As the day wore on, I continued to search for my sense of belonging. I started talking to a few of the ladies but I didn't quite find my groove that first night. I was tired from driving the seven hours it took to get there and from being up for nearly 24 hours (nerves!), and I was too shy to push my way into the dozens of conversations happening around me. Almost everyone else looked like they were having a great time, and I cursed my socially-awkward self for daring to leave the comfort of my house in an attempt to make friends. I looked around and thought to myself, Well. Clearly this was a mistake. I'm going to leave in the morning.

The next day, I grabbed one of my bags and walked a block to my car, determined to get out of there after I attended a class on Trust-Based Relational Intervention. But I didn't have my keys. I retrieved my keys, walked back to my car, and this time realized I'd left my bag on the bed in my room. I let a string of expletives fly and blinked back a few tears of frustration.

Clearly, the universe wanted me to stay at this retreat.

I lit a cigarette and pondered my predicament. I thought about all the other times I left my bubble of comfort in an attempt to do something new - sleepaway summer camps, sports teams, choir groups, etc. I always had an escape plan for those (Call mom to come get me!), and I had one yet again (hop in the car and GTFO). I sighed. What if I don't engage my escape plan this time? I thought. Everyone else looks like they're having fun. Surely I can have fun, too!  I decided to give it the day.

And that was one of the best decisions of my life!!

As a writer, it troubles me that I can't find the words to accurately describe how absolutely amazing and wonderful it was to be literally surrounded by moms raising kids affected by trauma. Imagine being in a place where saying the words "sticker chart" elicits frustrated groans from literally every other person in the room.

Imagine yourself at dinner with 15 other moms, and imagine you're in the middle of an engrossing and emotional story about your kids' wild behavior, so someone takes your plate to the kitchen for you because they don't want you to have to stop venting.

Imagine telling a group of people, "I don't like it when people do [insert disliked behavior here]," and watching as everyone avoids engaging in that behavior around you for the entire weekend (as opposed to our kids who would actively, obsessively engage in said behavior!).

Imagine someone hugging you and whispering, "I understand." Imagine wiping a tear from someone's cheek, and them doing the same for you.

Imagine yourself laughing, and I mean really laughing. Big, raucous, belly-shaking laughs. And then imagine laughing even harder because your friend erupts in the most joyful, carefree laugh you've heard in ages.

Online message boards and support groups are amazing, but as much as I love the internet, I now know that it's not enough to sustain my sanity. I needed to find "my people." We all do. So, I encourage all of you to attend an event geared toward trauma parents. There are so many different organizations that have cropped up to help us navigate the shark-infested waters of our lives, and most organizations have events from time to time. If you do some Googling, I guarantee that you'll stumble across something that speaks to you, that makes you want to get out of your house and meet people who will actually be able to relate to you. Pick one. And go. Maybe attending one of those events will transform you.

But even if you don't have an amazing, life-changing, soul-feeding experience? 

At least you tried.

And, because you tried...

You know that you can try again.

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

I just had a fantastic weekend, all thanks to the Beyond Trauma And Attachment (BeTA) non-profit network. If you are a mother (or female caretaker) who cares for a child with trauma issues, I insist highly recommend looking into attending their annual retreat in Orlando.

Over the next week or two, I will post my thoughts on the lessons I learned about trauma, about friendship, about parenting, and about myself throughout the week. For now, though, I want you to read this:

20 Things I Did Not Hear At the BeTA Retreat. Not Once.

1) "Oh, he's just talkative. He's fine."

2) "Have you tried a sticker chart?"

3) "Maybe if you paid more attention to her she wouldn't do that."

4) "Don't worry... All kids do that!"

5) "I'm sure he wasn't really trying to kill you!"

6) "I think you're too strict."

7) "I think you're too permissive."

8) "If that was my kid, he wouldn't sit down for a week."

9) "I can't believe you put a lock on his door."

10) "I can't believe you said that to your kid."

11) "You should leave. Or send them somewhere else to live."

12) "But how will they learn if you don't make them do homework?!"

13) "Things will go so much better for you and your kids if you just accept Jesus into your life" (Note: I am agnostic and people in my "real life" say this to me often. I get it and don't mind the suggestion... I actually think it's WONDERFUL to have a strong sense of faith. But, for now, it's not for me. But it was so nice to be somewhere where I could talk about things and not have this offered as the only suggestion!)

14) "Kids are resilient. They'll be fine."

15) "Your kids sound like they might be a lost cause."

16) "You're wrong to feel that way."

17) "It's noon... Why are you still in bed?"

18) "What's Reactive Attachment Disorder?"

19) "Don't you think you've had enough wine?"

No. The answer would have been no if anyone had asked me that silly question!

20) "I can't believe you're drinking straight from the bottle."

Okay, maybe I should have put the bottle down...

I didn't have to explain anything about my kids for four whole days. I didn't have to make any excuses for anyone or anything for four whole days.

Because I was with people who "got it."

And it was absolutely amazing.


This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.