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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In 2013, my husband won custody of his children (my stepson, "Little," age six; my stepdaughter, "Middle," age 7). Before they came to live with us, they endured a lot of early-childhood trauma and neglect, and they were soon diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD).
The most important part of their treatment plan involves therapeutic parenting. We use the SPACE model, which stands for "safety, supervision, structure, support... playful, accepting, curious, and empathetic." We do enforceconsequences, but from an outsider's perspective I'm sure it looks like we don't because therapeutic consequences are extremely understated. They aren't rooted in fear, shame, or guilt, and most consequences aren't rewards-based. So, for example, if Little was throwing cars at the wall, I wouldn't take his cars away. Instead, I would grab softer, more appropriate things to throw at the wall and say, "My, it sure does feel good to throw things when we're mad, huh?" Later, he would patch the holes.
Some things require rewards-based consequences, and we try to be neutral when those come up. For example, if they have a horrible day full of meltdowns, they lose the right to stay up until bedtime and must go to bed early. To make it therapeutic, we avoid saying things like, "You're going to bed an hour early because your behavior is awful! Maybe you will remember this before you decide to throw a huge fit!" Rather, we try to say something like, "Oh, it's time for bed now. You are so tired. I want to make sure you are have a good day tomorrow so you need a little extra rest!"
I don't like parenting this way. It's hard and tedious and exhausting, and I'm not very good at it. It's hard not to lose my cool when my kid uses a paper clip to rip holes in her school clothes for the umpteenth time. Most days, every fiber of my being screams, "Punish them for this bad behavior, because the real world certainly will!" Sometimes, I listen to those fibers and dole out a punitive consequence. But I try my best to stay therapeutic through even the most awful behaviors.
Recently, after explaining some misdeed Middle and my response to her behavior, someone remarked, "It just seems like you're not preparing them for the real world."
And it's true. Therapeutic parenting does not prepare our kids for the real world.
So... why do we parent this way when we know we aren't preparing them for the real world? I mean, isn't that the whole point of parenting?!
First, we have tried typical parenting methods and know they do not work. Sticker and reward charts are useless... Middle figures out how to manipulate them with an amazing competence, and Little does not seem to care whether or not he gets stickers or rewards. Giving them positive attention and compliments only encourages them to act out, and punishing them by yelling or taking away toys seems to have no impact (I once removed every single item from the kids' room and told them they had to earn their things back. This did not faze them... In fact, they enthusiastically helped me empty out their bedroom).
Second, we know why typical parenting methods don't work. The trauma and neglect they encountered before they came to live with us actually altered their brains and brain chemistry. Enforcing punitive consequences isn't going to rewire their brains because they aren't lacking in a knowledge of right and wrong... They lack a secure attachment and this prevents them from understanding and building healthy interpersonal relationships which are an essential part of being a functional human being. The only way to fix these issues is for us, as parents, to foster a healthy attachment bond with the children.
Building up a healthy attachment in my kids with a traumatic background is paramount in parenting them. They will not stop engaging in the negative behaviors associated with RAD until they develop empathy and feel safe in their environment, and the best way to help kids from traumatic backgrounds develop empathy is to use therapeutic, non-punitive techniques that show them they are loved and they are safe. These techniques, of course, do little to prepare kids for the harsh reality of the real world... But here's the thing. If we stick with it and do our best, if a healthy attachment builds and becomes secure, eventually the kids will be able to handle more typical parenting methods and we will be able to move on to methods that prepare them for life outside of our home.
And I'm confident that we will get there. We've already seen so many improvements in my step-children since we started parenting with SPACE, and they heal a little more with every passing day. In fact, Middle recently made me a rainbow-colored bracelet that reads, "I love you."
And I never take it off... Ever.
So, to everyone who gets confused by our parenting methods or worries that the kids will leave our home and buckle under the reality of life, I advise you to relax. We'll prepare them for the real world eventually, but right now, we're working on love instead.
(There is a smidgen of "adult language" in this blog... Just a heads up!)
Today I tell you, dear readers, a little story I've dubbed "The Candy Cane Lesson." This is not a recap of the cute but questionable "origin of the candy cane" story that I got to hear for the very first time last year (Husband was shocked that I'd never heard that story, btw... We were raised so differently!).
No. This is a story of Reactive Attachment Disorder's associated behaviors, and how those behaviors differ from kids who do not have such a disorder. Come, children, gather 'round while I regale you with a rousing tale of deceit, conflict, and love...
Last week was the last week of school before Christmas, which means it was a week full of trauma behaviors. Last Wednesday, Middle hopped in the car after school, and within a few seconds she popped something in her mouth.
"What you put in your mouth?!" Little demanded.
Middle didn't answer.
"WHAT IN YOUR MOUTH?!"
"A candy cane."
Husband, who thankfully does the picking up of the children, asked her to spit out the candy cane because we have a rule that they can't just eat in the car willy-nilly (this is because of Oldest's tendency to choke when she eats... I insist on being aware when children have food in their mouths in our vehicle!). He was telling this story to me while the kids changed and I went through backpacks. I found another candy cane in Middle's backpack and put it away.
When Middle emerged from her room, she started digging through her backpack. "WHERE MY CANDY CANE IS?!" she demanded (and this was my first clue that something fishy was going on... Her grammar gets ridiculous when she is triggered).
"I put it up." Middle went to grab it. "NO," I said. "You need to wait until snack time. Right now it's time to do homework if you are up for it."
We started her homework, and she was making little mistakes... LOTS of little mistakes... Mistakes on things she "mastered" a year ago. Mistakes on things like writing the letter "e." She was "playing the game"... she was screwing up on things she knows, and repeating those mistakes even after I intervened. When Middle plays this game, that means something is triggering her.
"Hmmm..." I said. "Looks like something is bothering you. Maybe homework is not such a good idea today. What's going on?"
"I just want my candy cane."
"You'll have to wait."
"But can't I have it now????"
My RAD-parent brain kicked in right about here. I'll bet she stole those damn candy canes.
Now, I knew I could not say that out loud to just anyone, because I knew how crazy it sounded. If your kids never experienced early-childhood trauma and don't have "RAD behavior," or if they DID experience trauma but you somehow avoided the insanity-inducing behavior that can stem from such trauma, I know I often look like a paranoid, over-involved, overly suspicious mother who should probably be evaluated by DSS. And I am thankful that most people don't understand me, because that means that most kids do not carry the deep scars of early-childhood trauma with them for years or decades or forever after they are removed from the traumatic environment.
But, if you are raising a child with trauma issues, you get it.
You get it.
And I'm sorry.
But anyway. There we were, Middle pleading for her candy cane, me getting more and more suspicious of these candy canes.
"Gee... Where did you get that candy cane anyway?"
No response. I asked again. "My friend gave it to me."
"Who?"
"My friend."
"Which friend?"
"I don't know."
"Did you get them in class?"
"Yes!"
Dad jumped in here with, "I thought you got them from the library?"
"No..." Middle said.
"I'll just message your teacher to find out about the candy canes."
Middle went back to her room, with the instructions to lay down and read. I messaged the teacher, the teacher told me she had no idea where the candy canes came from but that she would check with the librarian (who told the teacher she had not given out candy canes to any students).
I checked on Middle, and she was NOT doing what I asked. "So, what's going on in here?" I asked.
"I JUST WANT MY CANDY CANE!!!"
"Your teacher says she doesn't know where those candy canes came from. And, since they seem to be causing you a problem, I think we will have to wait on that candy cane until we get to the bottom of that."
Now, right here I want you to think back to when you were younger and tried to take something you shouldn't have. Didn't you try to keep your procuring of the forbidden item on the "down low"? Did you keep it somewhere your parent wouldn't stumble across it? Or use/dispose of said item before your parents could even lay their eyes on it? THAT is what typical limits testing or even just plain childhood greed looks like... Take the stuff and enjoy it before I get caught. But with my kids, it seems to be different. They take things... And then make sure I notice they have taken something they weren't supposed to take. I've actually told Middle that she couldn't take a certain toy to school, and then on the way she started playing with it and holding it up in the rear view mirror, or dropped it and then said, "Hey, Mom, I dropped that thing you just said I couldn't bring with us. Can you get it off the floor for me?"
Anyway, after a couple hours of asking for the candy cane every time she opened her mouth, she eventually told us that a friend of hers took the candy canes for her when she asked him to. Even if that is not entirely accurate, she wasn't supposed to have the candy canes, and she knew it, so she got them through illicit means.
Of course, I knew this within minutes of her arrival home, and I told her as much.
"How did you know?"
"Because you are a good person. And when good people do things that are wrong, they feel guilty. And if you are feeling guilty, your behavior tells everyone that something is bothering you. I'm upset with taking the candy cane, I'm angry that you lied, and I'm sad that you've spent two hours throwing a fit about this candy cane when we could have been having fun."
Silence.
"So, I think we need to throw away this candy cane because it's making you feel so badly. What do you think?"
Now, what would you expect here? I know I certainly expected another meltdown. Even well-adjusted kids with no trauma history will have a meltdown if their parent throws away candy, right?!
And therein lies the danger of expectations.
"Yeah, that's a good idea," she said.
Then we hugged it out and moved on with the day.
And so goes another day full of trauma drama.
And man. I'm so tired of it.
But, hopefully, she will remember... That I know she is a good person.
She's not fooling me with her obnoxious behavior. And, I hope I never fall for her trick. Because she needs me to see through all the bullshit she throws at anything and anyone in her path, to see past the lying and arguing (OH GOD THE ARGUING) and destructive behavior and strange things she does, to dig through the rubble and find the little girl who just wants to be loved but doesn't know how to accept it.
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 know I sound absolutely paranoid and borderline insane when I talk about my kids sometimes. I mean, before I learned about Reactive Attachment Disorder, I know I'd have questioned someone's sanity if they'd told me how their extremely young child could manipulate almost anyone and could orchestrate chaos out of thin air.
But kids with traumatic histories can do these things! And they do them so well that it is almost awe-inspiring... but it's not, because it's so damn frustrating when you are trying to parent them!
Middle and Little can read people, situations, and surroundings at a level I don't think I have reached yet after thirty-two years of living on this earth. And if Husband and I could just nudge their manipulation skills toward good instead of "not good," our children will grow up to be incredibly successful adults.
Yet, even though I recognize the potential of this skill, it is not a skill I particularly like...
Okay, I hate it. I hate dealing with it. I hate dealing with it all the time, every day, all day, constantly. It's infuriating.
I'll give you an example so that you can see what I mean, and why it's so frustrating. Keep in mind that similar situations to this arise multiple times a week.
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Middle came home Tuesday and started in on her after-school routine. A few minutes later, she called me back to her room.I found her standing next to her bookshelves, her hand on her hip, her shoulders raised. "WHERE ARE MY SLIPPERS?!" she asked in the most accusatory tone her 7-year-old body could muster.
I took a deep breath and answered, "We donated them, remember? They were too small."
"I DO NOT REMEMBER THAT."
"Well, I do. We went through your room and donated things that were too small, and threw away the broken stuff."
"I remember THAT, but YOU said I could KEEP my SLIPPERS!!"
"Huh. Well, if I didn't donate them, they must be somewhere around here."
"BUT WHERE?!"
Another deep breath. "I don't know. Is it my job to keep track of your things?" I asked as I walked out of her room to escape her withering, angry stare.
Things did not go well that afternoon. I had to constantly separate Middle from Little, and I couldn't do anything with her because she was angry. She even got angry with me when I let her have computer time because I wouldn't put her on the website she wanted to get on to and instead put her on an educational site. And when I told her computer time was over and to get her things for her bath, she really started "poking" at me (she was picking out "daytime" clothes instead of PJs, she forgot to bring in new underwear, she "got lost" in her closet, she broke a hanger, etc.). When she got into the bath, I asked her if she wanted me to wash her hair. "NO."
"Oh... What's the problem? Is there anything you need to talk about?"
"I JUST MISS MY SLIPPERS SO MUCH AND YOU THREW THEM AWAY!!!" she wailed.
I told her that we'd decided to donate them, together, and I was sorry she didn't remember that. I told her that missing her slippers is no excuse to treat me like crap.
But she wasn't going to take that answer as justification for her slippers' disappearance. She assaulted me with a verbal tirade and I left the bathroom before it got too serious. "If you change your mind about me washing your hair, let me know," I said over my shoulder.
Things only went downhill from there... Middle and Little started engaging in some unsafe behavior. Neither of them has been sleeping well this week, and they both had monstrously dark, large circles underneath their eyes. We chalked up the crappy behavior to being tired and we decided to make them dinner and send them to bed about an hour early.
Middle was clearly unhappy with this decision, and she refused to eat. I left the room, again, because I could feel my face starting to get hot. I was on the verge of yelling at her, and that wouldn't help anyone. I went back in her room and my eyes landed on a box, sitting out on her bed. I'll bet she hid those stupid slippers in this box, I thought.
DING DING DING DING!
After finding the slippers, I remembered that when we went through her room, she'd told me she wasn't ready to give up her slippers yet. I told her I wouldn't donate them, then, but encouraged her to get rid of them when she was ready so she could get new slippers that fit better.
I stomped out into the living room where she and Little were eating, slippers clenched in my fists. "HERE ARE YOUR SLIPPERS!"
She looked up at me and made "the face"... You know, the one that she makes when she realizes her jig is up. "Oh."
"You know where I found these?!"
"In the box?"
"YES IN THE BOX! Why you would hide the slippers in the box and accuse me of throwing them away?!"
::Middle's "face" intensified::
"Did you just NEED a reason to be mad at me?! So you made one up out of thin air?!"
::"Face" intensified to max strength::
"WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM TONIGHT!" I said yelled, and put them in the "toy time out box" we keep in the living room. "You really hurt my feelings and I'm angry."
The slippers joined Oldest's camera and Little's shirt in the time-out box. At least they weren't lonely.
I stormed out to our porch for an oh-so-calming cigarette, and by the time I got back inside, she was in bed, her food uneaten. But she didn't fall asleep until 2:30 in the morning.
............
At which point Little woke up, and I pulled out every strand of hair from my head and screamed into pillows until morning broke.
Husband and I are having our wedding ceremony in less than two weeks.
LESS THAN TWO WEEKS, YOU GUYS!
We were legally married earlier this year, but couldn't have the ceremony at that time. Now the big day is just around the corner!
Anyone who has a blended family knows that this is a challenging experience even under the best of circumstances. Now take the "normal difficulties" and "normal emotional conflicts" kids with divorced parents have when one of those parents remarries... And multiply them by A HUNDRED BILLION BAZILLION... And you may have an accurate idea of how bonkers things are getting around here, especially with Middle.
When you add in a phone call from bio mom to all the wedding excitement, you get a dysregulated Little and a nearly apoplectic Middle. This was the first phone call in a month. Middle asked to call her mom, and it just so happened that it was her mom's birthday (we knew this because bio mom sent about 20 texts the day before demanding access to them via telephone because it was HER birthday and "all she wanted" was to talk to HER kids... Middle probably didn't know this unless her hypervigilant observation skills are WAY more advanced than Husband and I realized).
And of course after Middle learned it was her mom's birthday she made a card... But we can't send said card because bio mom has moved yet again and we don't have the address... And making that card was so sweet, but probably reminded her that she got nothing from bio mom for her birthday last month... Which probably reminded her that she hasn't really gotten much at all since we got custody of her and Little...
And so on.
There's a lot of excitement going on. And when there is a lot of excitement, kids with traumatic backgrounds often interpret that excitement as a threat. Which means Middle is absolutely losing her mind.
Saturday night, she hit Little in the testicles. Sunday morning, she briefly trapped my cat and terrorized him while no one was looking, called attention to the fact that she terrorized the cat because no one noticed she had just engaged in domestic animal terrorist tactics, and then triangulated Husband and I against each other for a very brief moment (he was convinced she hadn't done anything to the cat, I was convinced she had), and then when things calmed down she copped up to being mean to the cat... I couldn't tell if she was just trying to rile everything up again or not, but by the time she admitted to what she'd done, I was calm enough to ensure things stayed placid around here, thankfully.
She's also had some bathroom issues, been staring at me with "THE FACE" on almost nonstop, refusing to sleep, and doing weird things with her clothes again (she hid her uniform this morning, she is putting dirty underwear into her clean underwear drawer and clean clothes into the dirty clothes basket, there's a new hole in one of her pairs of pants and one of her blankets, etc).
This morning, the hidden uniform fiasco resulted in some very impressive orchestrated chaos... But I take the blame on that one. I completely overreacted when she said she couldn't find her uniform. But it wasn't even 6 a.m. yet, damn it, and I'm tired.
And don't think for one minute that Oldest is just sailing along smoothly throughout this crazy time. Oh nononono. Her behavior regressed quite a bit this weekend as well, and we had to separate her and Little on many occasions because she was being WAY too handsy with him. She also progressed in age, apparently, because she was TOTALLY acting like a teenager when I asked her to do things or tried to talk to her. That, or she lost her hearing suddenly because she pretty much ignored everything I said to her unless I was talking about food.
SO! I may not be around too much until the wedding confetti settles. I missed "Silly Sunday" yesterday, and don't really have too much time to write. I am working on a lil' piece called "Airing Dirty Laundry" that goes over the importance of sharing our experiences with others, but by "working on," I really mean "I've come up with an idea and I haven't written a frigging thing, but I have every intention on doing so."
I'm also working on a blog that I hope explains why normal consequences and rewards don't work so well with kids who've experienced trauma... There are actually words written down for that one, so that will probably come before the "laundry" post.
Anywho... since publishing with The Mighty my readership has increased exponentially, and people I don't know pop in here now and again, I figured I should offer a brief heads up that I probably won't get much accomplished with writing until after this whole wedding shindig wraps up. I'll try to get some stuff written and posted, but no promises on seeing anything from me until the middle of October.
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.
**************************************** If you've read my previous posts, you know that Middle and Little experienced chronic early-childhood trauma before they came to live with us. When the judge presiding over Husband's custody hearing awarded him full/sole custody, we expected them to engage in some problematic behavior when they moved in... "But it will get better once they've been here a while," Husband and I said, "All it's going to take is consistency, patience and love."
I can't even begin to tell you how wrong we were.
Husband and I found ourselves totally unprepared to deal with the needs of my step-children... No one warned us that sustained early-childhood trauma can negatively impact the brain's development. We'd never even heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), and therefore we were completely baffled when they reacted so negatively to our safe and secure environment. And we certainly didn't know about thetherapeutic parenting style we would adopt when they resisted our traditional parenting methods (often with screaming and yelling and kicking and spitting...).
I tried my best not to put too much stock into the RAD diagnosis, but eventually, subconsciously, I started automatically attributing any negative or odd behavior to their attachment issues. I lived in near-constant worry that that our love wouldn't be enough, that they wouldn't get better, that all of our valiant efforts would fail miserably... And if I lost my temper and slid back into traditional parenting methods, I would dwell on the most negative thought of all... Maybe their behavior would get worse.
So you can imagine my reaction to Middle when she told me about "The Good and Bad Maps" in her brain that make her "do good/bad things."
I emailed her mental health counselor immediately... "Is this a sign she is having delusions? Middle's family tree has some mental illness in its branches... Should we look into other diagnoses for her?"
The therapist asked me to make a note when she brought up "The Maps," but said she wasn't too worried about it... Middle is very artistic, and her therapist thought she was just using visuals to explain how her mind works.
Middle brought up "The Maps" a handful of times that month, but nothing major. Satisfied that she wasn't experiencing dissociation or mental hallucinations, we let the subject drop, butin April she started going into great detail about people in her brain that made her do bad things. She vividly described their appearance to me and even imitated their voices for me! I sent another alarmed email, but was again advised again to make a note when Middle mentioned the "people in her brain." I complied and tried to play it cool, but I was getting more and more concerned convinced that we were seeing the development of an additional mental health problem.
She kept talking about multi-colored people that lived in her brain and how they were in control of her thoughts and actions. I grew more and more worried as this discussion continued on and off for a month or so, until one day I heard her squeal, "MOM!!! COME QUICK!!! IT'S THEM!!" I raced into the living room to find her excitedly pointing at the television, jumping up and down. "THERE THEY ARE! THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD!"
I could only reply with an embarrassed, "Oh... Okay, I get it."
It was a commercial for Inside Out.
Mystery solved.
But wait... What about those maps she kept talking about in March?
Turns out, her kindergarten classroom had a giant poster about choosing the right path... The poster included drawings of paths to success and paths to trouble... Paths that Middle called "The Maps" in class.
Poor Middle... She was using her imagination so wonderfully, and there I was, a mother with no higher-level psychology education, trying to shuffle her into another serious diagnosis.
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This story's end may be amusing, but I hope it serves as a word of caution against relying too heavily on a diagnosis to understand someone (or even understand yourself).
The power of the RAD diagnosis was so strong that I guess I completely forgot that all young kids say things that sound weird to adults and engage in behavior that we don't understand from our vantage point. I'm glad I had this realization when I did because I didn't even realize I was seeing her diagnosis instead of her.
Now that I have recognized my faulty thinking, I do my best to avoid falling into that pattern of thinking again, and I'm much happier interacting with my kids diagnosed with RAD.
After all, it's so much easier to laugh at the absurdity of childhood experimentation and logic when I'm not constantly asking myself, "What does this mean?!"
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 I was fourteen, my mom called me outside on a lovely spring afternoon. She walked me over to the fence. "Can you explain this, please?" she asked, gesturing at the extinguished cigarette butts that covered the grass underneath my bedroom window.
OH NO! Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink... "I don't know... Weird."
My mom looked at me, steady. "Pick them up."
While I cleaned up the mess I'd so obviously created, my mind clamored for an explanation that would take the blame off me. And then I remembered something.
I finished my task and went inside to find my mom sitting in the kitchen. "Hey, remember how we've seen Jordan and his friends walk through here sometimes? I'll bet they are the ones who made that mess."
My mom laughed. "I think it was you. You've been smoking outside your window!"
"No! No, I don't do that!" I tried to muster up all the indignation I could find within myself. "It was those boys!"
Now. I'm 100% certain my mom knew I was lying. Of course she did... How could she not?! But this lie was just plausible enough to introduce reasonable doubt. Those boys had walked that way while they smoked their cigarettes. Maybe they did smoke dozens of cigarettes and throw them out under my window... I mean, that was certainly possible, right?!
So there we were. I'd been confronted with the stinky mountain of evidence I'd flicked out my window, but I would not admit my wrongdoing. Instead of coming clean and accepting the consequences of my silly teenage actions, I deflected the blame onto others, and I stuck to that lie for years. I've even lied about this incident as an adult! In fact, I've never come clean to my mom about this (and I'm 31 years old!). If she is reading this blog, this will be the first time she's ever heard the truth from me: I did that. I smoked outside of my window for months and made a huge messy pile of nastiness in our yard, and then I lied about it. I shouldn't have lied to you, and I'm not sure why I thought you would buy my ridiculous explanation.
"Crazy lying" or "lying about the obvious" is one of the top behaviors associated with RAD and trauma-related disorders. It seems so hard to understand, but it's not. I mean, haven't you ever been so afraid of what would happen if a parent or loved one discovered something wrong you had done?
I don't know why I felt the need to lie to my mom like that... She is wonderful, was never abusive, and never over-the-top in her punishments. Perhaps I was afraid she would go through my room (plausible), or take my privacy away (less plausible). I likely feared I would disappoint her (I had a healthy relationship with her and felt awful if I let her down) or make her angry. But, I did.
Same with kids diagnosed with RAD, or kids who have been through developmental trauma, or kids in general. Kids, and adults, lie to protect themselves... To keep something they want or need, to avoid punishment, to make someone happy, to avoid breaks in attached relationships.
Crazy lying, or normal childhood behavior?! You decide!
Here's the difference: if I hadn't pulled that far-fetched, but possible, excuse out of my you-know-where... If my mom had had irrefutable evidence that I'd been smoking, I'm fairly certain I would have come clean (maybe not! Who knows!). Kids with trauma who engage in "crazy lying" will lie for absolutely no reason. In fact, they may come up with a lie, seek you out, and start a conversation with a lie!
And when caught up in their lie, kids with traumatic pasts have even less motivation to tell the truth, because their life experiences have taught them they could be severely punished for wrongdoings and they might fear their current parents will completely derail when lied to.
Another difference between "normal childhood lying" and "crazy lying"? My lying was a fairly isolated incident that occurred out of "necessity" when my mom confronted me... I needed to lie to her so I could continue on in my stupid teenage mistakes (most of which weren't life-altering, but smoking was definitely something I should have listened to my mother about because I still suck down cancer sticks like they're full of oxygen instead of, you know, cancer). I did not initiate the conflict over the pile of discarded cigarette ends... I never would have walked up to her and casually mentioned, "Hey, there are a ton of cigarette butts outside our window and I have no idea how they got there." A child with trauma issues may do just that, perhaps to intentionally disrupt harmony so that they are in control of when their parent confronts them on something they've done. To kids with trauma issues, instigating a conflict (even an unnecessary conflict) beats responding to a conflict that someone thrust upon them unexpectedly.
I've mentioned that I noticed something was slightly askew with Middle almost as soon as I met her, but Husband didn't really catch on to her disordered mental organization until the first time she turned her tendency to "lie about the obvious" on with him (I'd been experiencing it from day one, but it took about a month for her to start in on her dad... and I didn't mention it because I felt like I was the crazy one and reading too much into the behavior of a precocious little girl who had experienced more trauma in her four years than I had experienced in my entire life).
I was cleaning the room Middle shared with Little when I noticed she had written some letters on the wall. Little hadn't learned to write yet, and I recognized Oldest's and Middle's handwriting, so I knew who had written the letters without a doubt. No big deal, I thought. I'll just have her clean the wall and we'll be done with it. I called her in. "Middle, what happened here?"
She started smiling. "I don't know!" she shouted.
"I think you do. Want to tell me about it?"
"I DON'T KNOWWWW!" she wailed, and started to cry (but the smile remained on her face... I would come to figure out that the smile she puts on while simultaneously sobbing indicates she is terrified, but at the time I mistook her smile for her thinking our discussion was funny).
Husband entered the room, concerned. "What?!" he asked.
"Someone wrote on the wall. It's not a big deal, it will easily wipe off! But I want Middle to talk to me about it."
Husband looked at the writing. "Middle, why did you write on the wall?"
"I didn't!" she cried.
"Middle. All that is going to happen is that you'll have to wipe it off." He got a towel. "Here. Why did you write on the wall?"
Middle threw down the towel and started wailing. Then, she stopped and suggested, "Maybe it was Little!"
Husband pulled Little in and asked him to write the letters that were up on the wall on a piece of paper. He could not do it (he was only three at the time). Husband looked at Middle pointedly. "Little did this?" he asked.
"YES!" Middle then said, "Hey, Little, like this... This is what you did!" and proceeded to write the letters out on the paper for him!!!
"You know, whoever did it will have a consequence. Are you okay with Little having to take the consequence?"
"YES!"
"Middle, Little did not write on the wall." Husband held the piece of paper up to the wall, comparing handwriting samples (CSI here we come!).
"THEN IT WAS OLDEST!" she screamed. Husband repeated the process.
Now, this was before we knew about therapeutic parenting. This was before we switched from the ways we'd been raised... Stern lecturing and exasperated yelling from me, isolation and corporal punishment from Husband (I am neither for nor against spanking... Husband sees no problem with it as he is a typical Southern guy (sorry for the stereotype!), who believes physical punishment worked well with him and his siblings and didn't see any problem with giving his kids a swat when they misbehaved. HOWEVER, we have both come to realize that physical punishment and yelling do not work with our kids... In fact, that usually just serves to make things worse. Therefore, we try not to utilize these "old school" methods and try to remain bastions of therapeutic parenting). This went on for HOURS and HOURS as we tried to get Middle to admit lying. By the end of the night, we were all exhausted and traumatized (and re-traumatized) by trying to get her to tell the truth using discipline methods that only forced her to cling to that lie even tighter. These discipline methods probably would have worked well with most kids (stay in your room until you are ready to talk, if you lie again I'm giving you a swat).
Let me tell you... We handled that lie poorly. As we have many, many other lies... She once sat at the kitchen table every day after school for most of the evening because she kept insisting she didn't know how to read the word "of." EVEN AFTER SHE'D JUST READ IT, EVEN AFTER WE'D JUST SOUNDED IT OUT TOGETHER, EVEN AFTER I FREAKING TOLD HER THE WORD.
And we handle the lying poorly because it shows us how different her brain works from our brains, from the brains of kids who didn't go through the trauma she did, and those differences can be incredibly scary. The prognosis for a child diagnosed with RAD is frightening, and sometimes we overreact to our own fear when our kids engage in troubling behavior (and, sometimes, unfortunately, when they engage in normal childhood behavior). We were--we are--terrified for Middle and Little in a way we are not for Oldest (I am certainly apprehensive for her as most parents are when they think of their kids' futures, and I'm probably more nervous for her future with her genetic disorder delaying her development, but I'm not worried about her empathy levels or her understanding of cause-and-effect like I am Middle and Little... But I digress).
We let our own fears overtake us when our traumatized kids confront us with a "crazy lie." And during the "writing on the wall" fiasco, Middle really punched Husband's fear for their mental health on the nose because, at one point, she shouted at him, "It's not a lie in my head!" That caused Husband to completely lose it because there is a history of mental illness in his family, and the kids' biological mother's history and family. Her claiming that her lie was actually true unsettled him to the point he began shaking, full of anxiety, wondering what, exactly, she meant by that. Would she be able to surpass her trauma and become a healthy adult? Or has she already started building an alternate reality that she will live in instead of "the real world," and run into all sorts of terrible problems that we can't solve for her?
Bottom line: When a traumatized child gets stuck in a lie and can't bring herself to tell the truth, even if we swear up and down that she won't get in trouble for the action we want her to discuss with us, NOTHING makes her tell the truth about what had happened until she feels like it. And the more we try to push them into opening up to us, especially if we employ punitive methods in an attempt to get the truth, the more they lock themselves up, and that is a dangerous road to travel down with any child, but it's especially dangerous for kids with traumatic histories. Traditional discipline strategies of punishment won't work, and ignoring the lie won't really work either, because we need the kids to open up to us, to give us a chance to prove we won't hurt them for something like writing on the wall or destroying the desk or ripping holes in clothing or hurting the cat or hiding the laptop or hoarding the Halloween candy or lying about their academic abilities (all things that have been lied about with gusto in my house).
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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If you have a child with trauma issues, I'm sure your well-meaning friends and family members have asked you at least a million times: "What's the big deal? All kids do that!"
And they're not wrong... All kids do lie, talk a lot, play too rough, fight with their siblings, talk back... Right? Right! All kids have illogical reasoning and get angry when their parents don't understand. Right Louis C.K?
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING VIDEO CONTAINS SOME EXTREMELY STRONG LANGUAGE. It is absolutely hilarious, though, so please listen if you can handle coarse words and sarcastic ranting about the behavior of children,
Louis C.K. manages therapeutic parenting with his daughter who clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed! Go, Louis!
So, yes, all kids do things that make us mad, that scare us, that irritate us. Some kids engage in these insanity-inducing behaviors daily just because they are kids, and some kids engage in these behaviors because they're ornery or just aren't thinking because their brains are still babies. But kids with trauma behaviors don't engage in "normal negative behavior" because their trauma responses take "normal negative behaviors" into scary movie territory.
Securely attached, non-traumatized child responds to his mother when she catches him drawing on the wall.
Child with attachment issues responds to his mother when she catches him drawing on the wall.**
In the first video of Heather Forbes's online parenting course, she says something that I want you to memorize, repeat and utilize when people give you that look... You know the look. The one that says, "You are a total loon and your kids are fine!" Oh, I hate that look. Anyway, Heather Forbes says something along the lines of: My child's behaviors are not the concern, but rather the intensity, the frequency, and the duration of the behaviors.
I'll use Little's tantrums to illustrate what I'm talking about here.
All young kids have tantrums, according to one study published in The Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry. Most preschoolers throw tantrums on occasion (about four times a week), and about 8.6% throw a tantrum daily. And most fits only last about five minutes, with longer meltdowns increasing with age tantrums of preschool-aged children usually last for about five minutes, and are shorter in duration in younger children, according to statistics on tantrums gathered by researchers Potegal and Davidson from the University of Wisconsin.
Now, I don't want to dismiss the feelings of parents whose children engage in "normal" fit-throwing behavior, because fits are annoying and exasperating. They test the limits of even the most saintly, with-it mother. I know that even "normal" tantrums can be absolutely horrible. But kids with traumatic pasts engage in completely different tantrum behavior. Unless they've healed through therapeutic interventions, traumatized children do not engage in "normal" fit-throwing behavior. Tantrums of traumatized children do not last for five minutes. They don't happen "a few times a week." They aren't merely expressions of frustration, anger, sadness, or exhaustion. They aren't very predictable and are not easy to avoid with small modifications in routine or expectations. They aren't easily managed by utilizing traditional techniques such as ignoring the behavior or putting the kids in time-out.
No. Trauma-tantrums are something else entirely. Little once had a meltdown that lasted for 5 days. I was about to take him to the hospital on the fifth day, but was advised to try a dose of Benadryl first which, thankfully, helped him snap out of it. That is, of course, and extreme example and thankfully has not happened since, but Little's meltdowns used to be constant and all-consuming. Before we started him at his behavioral therapy program, Little's meltdowns occurred daily and lasted for at least two hours, but more often lasted four hours. Every day.
And they were--and still are--violent. Husband and I have barricaded ourselves in the room with him, keeping him away from his sisters and the cat. He has gouged holes into the walls of his room by throwing things. Countless toys have fallen victim to the wrath of Little, and I've been physically hurt by him on a small number of occasions.
The craziest thing about Little's fits, though, is that no matter what we do to avoid or calm his fits of absolutely terrifying anger and sadness and anxiety, nothing really works. Nothing. We've tried several methods of dealing with his meltdowns and have even gone so far as to commit the ultimate parenting faux pas and given him what we thought he wanted... But even acquiescing just intensifiedhis rage!
If you are parenting a child with trauma-related behavior issues, you know the truth in what I'm about to say:
The behaviors that consume so much of our lives are NOT normal.
I want readers who support a friend or family member who parents a traumatized child to know that we trauma-mamas-and-papas understand that you have the best intentions in mind when you say things like, "Oh, that's normal," or, "Yeah, my kid does that, too!", or "When my kid does that, I do this and it works every time." However, those words, earnestly said in an attempt to assist a distressed loved one, are more likely tofrustrate the very person you want to help.
That's not an attempt to discourage you from offering up tips to parents like me and Husband. Some traditional parenting advice does work well with our children and sometimes we are open to suggestions. However, if you have never raised a child with trauma issues and want to sympathize, empathize and advise a trauma parent, you must ask them the following question before you respond to them when they are distraught at the behaviors he or she sees in his or her children: "Do you want my advice, or do you just want me to listen?"
Because some days, when I call my mom or my friends ranting that Little threw a car seat at me while I was driving or that Middle manipulated a reward system I thought was working, I don't want advice, especially if I'm calling shortly after the upsetting event took place. I just want to talk about it, get it out, and hear, "Wow, that sucks!!! What did you do?!"
Other days, usually after I've calmed down of course, I am completely open to the advice of others, because I know that my fellow parents know their stuff, whether or not they are raising neuro-typical children, physically disabled children, or children with mental issues.
So, bottom line: Kids with trauma issues may seem like perfectly normal kiddos with no issues. They may even be completely angelic in your presence if you don't interact with them frequently. You might question the sanity of parents who seem "hostile and/or angry" when they talk about or interact with their kids. However, please recognize the validity of their parents' concerns, because while the specific behavior may be "normal," the intensity, frequency, and duration of that behavior is not. Please keep this in mind if you want to help or advise a trauma parent.
**Note: this image is from We Need to Talk About Kevin. I watched this movie long ago and read the book, enthralled with the story line. It was probably the BEST "creepy kid" movie I've ever seen. Middle and little aren't NEARLY as vicious as little Kevin there, but there are a few similarities. I tell you this to warn you away from the film if you have a child diagnosed with an attachment disorder... because I know some of my fellow trauma parents have kids who DO engage in the behaviors the movie illustrates on screen, and also because it ends in the worst-case scenario for children with mental disorders/mental illness. Husband wanted to watch it, I made him watch the trailer, and he noped out of that idea reeeeeealll quick.
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.
**************************************** 1) You notice your kids acting strange, but you can’t describe what you’re seeing.
I remember explaining the behavior of Middle and Little as "slightly off... somehow."
When I tried to describe the "adult-like" behavior from Middle, the manipulative clingy-ness of little, and the complete and utter lack of remorse and empathy displayed by both of them, I kept thinking of Macaulay Culkin's performance in The Good Son.
Who thinks aboutchildren like this?! I asked myself. I'm worse than Cinderella's step-mother!
2) Your go-to-parenting methods seem ludicrously ineffective...
Sticker charts, consequences, time-outs, taking away toys or privileges and even spankingdon't work with traumatized kids. Emotions run too high, manipulation skills are too adept, and triggers are too near the surface for punishments to be effective.
… So you create an incredibly long list of extremely detailed (and ridiculous) rules.
We enforce normal household rules like no running inside and no hitting... But we also have a long list of rules that sound super-controlling, like, "You must ask before sitting on the couch. No pretending you're animals. No saying, 'I just,' 'actually,' 'how about,' or 'really.'"
Like I said... Ridiculous.
3) You turn to friends and family for help, but they don’t understand. They think you're too strict…
"Your kids have to ask to sit on the couch? They can't play animals? They can't say normal words?!"
Husband was raised in the South with a chronically sore behind, so we get this one a lot. We have tried some "authoritarian punishments"... but they accomplished nothing and usually made things worse. This makes sense, if you think about it. Spanking, isolating, or otherwise harshly punishing a traumatized child doesn't work for the same reason pointing guns at combat veterans with PTSD doesn't work.
4) You isolate yourself from friends and family and over-impose on your kids’ teachers and therapists.
I rarely call my best friend or my mother, but in the last 365 days I've written 212 emails to our primary family therapist, 147 to Middle's kindergarten teacher, and at least 50 to the caseworkers at Little's day treatment facility.
I left graduate school shortly after we got custody of Middle and Little. My kids were engaging in creepy behavior and I couldn't care about William Godwin's relationship with Mary Wollstonecraft. The army honorably discharged Husband because the kids' needs conflicted with his military commitment. Then we enrolled my stepson in a day-therapy program that requires parental attendance, and neither of us could do anything to bring in income. Things have been really hard financially, and much more difficult socially, than we ever anticipated.
6) Then, one day, you get the right diagnosis and everything finally makes sense.
Panic Disorder. Complex-PTSD. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Reactive Attachment Disorder. When you finally get the right diagnosis, it's awesome and terrifying and you cry a little (or a lot).
7) You find others who “get it,” and you start putting the pieces of your life back in place.
Billy Kaplan (therapist) and Christine Moers (Parent) (see above) are my personal favorites. Husband is the biggest support for me, but I could not do this without their services and support.
8) You find a parenting method that works for your family, and things start to get better. We like the SPACE method put forth by Billy Kaplan, which builds upon the Daniel Hughes's PACE method. It stands for "Safety, Stability and Support + Playful, Accepting, Curious and Empathic." There are a TON of methods for working with kids with trauma issues and eventually, you find a method that fits your groove.
9) You start to see the bright side of your kids’ trauma-behaviors…
Maybe Little will be an actor with his uncanny ability to mask his emotions. Maybe Middle will be an attorney with her amazing debate skills. Or maybe they will be CEOs with their super-duper "strong wills."
… And cling to signs of progress with a death grip.
On days I feel hopeless, I look back at journal entries, FB posts, and pictures from two years ago. We have made a ton of progress in all areas. Their behaviors are more "normal," and their physical appearance shows how we've helped them heal from the sad effects of neglect.
10) At times it will be hard to love your kids, but you keep trying...
Rejecting a caring, attentive parent's love is the cornerstone symptom of attachment issues or disorders that can develop after early-childhood trauma, so we are more likely to experience "negative behavior" when the kids feel safe and happy. This is extremely hard to deal with, and even harder to understand.
And sometimes, on really good days, if you're really lucky...
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 felt emotionally hollowed by the video for "Chandelier," but the video for "Elastic Heart" gutted me. "Chandelier" puts me in the shoes of my step-kids and reminds me that the kids' behavior comes from a place of sadness, anger, and terror.
The video for "Elastic Heart" accomplishes this as well. However, Shia LeBouf's performance alongside Maddie Ziegler's adds a whole new emotional dimension that I did not anticipate when I started watching the video. I have had a hard time explaining to friends and family exactly what it feels like to parent my step-kids. I try to describe the pain they feel and inflict on me, the sadness and anger I feel over the whole situation, the commitment to keep trying even when it seems impossible... but my words fall far short of accurately conveying the reality of parenting children whose early-life experiences extinguished their ability to trust their caregivers.
Husband and I were overjoyed when his kids came to live with us. They were in an unsafe environment, and our home would shelter them. They would be safe with us. We would be able to fix their problems as long as they remained in our homes. But we did not understand that they would fear our safe environment full of love and kindness and predictability. To them, we weren't giving them a safe place. They didn't even understand that concept. No. They interpreted all of our rules and structure as confining them. We were trapping them and trying to force them to accept our love when they saw that love as a threat. To them, our house wasn't a home... It was a cage.
So, Middle and Little fought against us. Fought against our love. Attacked us. Over and over again.
And every time we thought they were starting to accept our love, starting to feel safe... Every time we thought, "Okay, Crazy Time is over. Now we can function as a family and have fun together. We can go to big events and the kids can handle it. Now we can get back to normal," something would happen and would realize they still have so far to go to heal. Feeling safe and trusting us evokes their feelings of insecurity*.
In their minds, our safe environment threatened them, and our love couldn't be trusted. And even after almost two years, they still don't feel safe, they still don't feel like we will love them unconditionally. When they get scared that their world is going to be turned upside down, "Fight, Freeze or Flee" kicks in, and they resist our attempts to bond with them.
Husband and I are pretty lucky because they are young and they are too small to do any serious damage most of the time when they get angry enough to get physical. We are lucky because their violent outbursts have been rage reactions, not premeditated plans of attack. We are lucky because we have a wonderful therapist and behavior program and they are no longer physically violent or orchestrating mental manipulation on us (and each other) all day, every day. And I am thankful.
But when my kids do unsettling or violent things, I feel frightened. Their behavior can be scary on many levels... At least once a day I worry this will never get better, and that is terrifying.
The simple truth is, the intensity of their emotions can reach very scary levels. And sometimes I snap at them.
And sometimes, I do want to run away.
At times, I've felt that well-meaning friends and family have actually secretly wanted me to run away. People have asked me to really consider if I could handle parenting the kids. If I really wanted to parent them. I've been reminded that no one would blame me for walking away from my situation. That I shouldn't be putting Oldest through all this drama for kids that "aren't really mine." And I have honestly pondered those things countless times, because the last two years have been the hardest two years I've lived.
But... I stay. I stay, and try to comfort them when they are in the clutches of the Reactive Attachment Disorder minions.
I stay, and do my damnedest to therapeutically parent them so that they can heal.
Here, Shia LeBouf enacts "playful" part of parenting with PACE
(the acronym stands for Playful, Accepting, Curious, Empathetic; Daniel Hughes
established this method and his books really helped me feel more positive about parenting
Middle and Little). Who'd have thought such an unlikely star would illustrate therapeutic parenting so perfectly?
I stay out of love for Husband. How could I leave him to do this immense job all on his own? How could I run away from his children when he so openly and readily accepted my biological daughter who has her own difficulties with behavior? How could I abandon the man who has shown me so much love, who has redefined my definition of love, who would never abandon me if our roles were reversed?
I stay out of love for myself. I couldn't forgive myself for walking away from these beautiful children who have seen more horrible things than I have seen in my 31 years. Who have repeatedly been mistreated and abandoned. Who so desperately want to love and receive love openly, without fear, who want to "fit" in our family... But just can't bring themselves to believe we won't hurt or leave them. How could I live with myself if I just added to their mental distress? I couldn't, and I know I couldn't. So, I stay for myself.
I stay out of love for Oldest. While it is true that in the beginning, the chaos that her step-siblings brought to our house caused her great distress, we have revamped our parenting style and put into place some steps for her to take if she feels scared when Middle or Little has a meltdown. The "negative behaviors" Middle and Little expose her to are teaching her how to deal with peer pressure and other things that kids have to deal with as they grow, things I've always worried she wouldn't get a chance to learn with her genetic disorder. She has someone to play with most of the time, someone to share things with. She loves her little brother and sister... and that is a good thing. The chaos of our home can be distressing at times, yes, but having a family with two committed parents, where she really gets to see the unconditional love Husband and I have for our children, balances that out.
And, of course, I stay out of love for Middle and Little. I can't even imagine what would happen to them if I left them. I can't imagine what their minds would do if I left them. I know sometimes I doubt it, but the fact is they do love me as much as they can... As much as RAD lets them love me. Their expressions of love look so different than my own, and because of that I do forget this simple fact sometimes.
Watch the whole video below... and listen to the lyrics... and think about how children with traumatic pasts want your love but also fear your love...
And another one bites the dust
Oh, why can I not conquer love?
And I might have thought that we were one
Wanted to fight this war without weapons
And I wanted it, I wanted it bad
But there were so many red flags
Now another one bites the dust
Yeah, let's be clear, I'll trust no one...
Well I've got thick skin and an elastic heart
But your blade, it might be too sharp
I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard
Yeah, I may snap and I move fast
But you won't see me fall apart
Cuz' I've got an elastic heart
And I will stay up through the night
And let's be clear, won't close my eyes
And I know that I can survive
I'll walk through fire to save my life
And I want it, I want it so bad
I'm doing everything I can
Then another one bites the dust
It's hard to lose a chosen one
*For example: Yesterday was AWESOME! We visited Husband's family and friends, and they rocked some awesome behavior. Little even talked himself out of a meltdown. This is an amazing feat in its own right, but considering he had been up for fifteen hours with no nap in a place that essentailly showered him with love and safety all day long, I found his remaining calm when he didn't get the piggy-back ride to the car he wanted absolutely remarkable. I was thrilled.
Husband asked the kids if they'd had a good time (clearly they had... They got to go swimming twice, had two picnics, played with dogs and other kids, roasted marshmallows, and played air hockey with each other). Oldest gleefully cheered, "YES! Best day ever! Middle and Little, however, were less enthused. "My day was in the middle," Middle said. "Thumbs up. Thumbs down," Little said sullenly.
I spent the car ride home quietly preparing myself for the backlash we'd likely face today. And, so far, today hasn't been so great, but Little has had two meltdowns (short ones, thankfully!) and when I woke Middle this morning I found that she had been scratching herself and there was blood on her face and shirt. Nonsense chatter is through the roof and Middle's deliberate antagonizing of me is full force. They are also fighting over every single thing... Simple things, like how to pet our cat or over the last time Middle wore the shirt she is wearing.
I celebrate the fact that the great time we had yesterday would have been absolutely impossible one year ago. But I mourn the fact that for my step-kids, big fun means big feelings which, more often than not, means big chaos during or shortly thereafter.
