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.

I Want To Tell You About My Worst Day

Note: Today I'm taking a break from the usual RAD writing and am sharing something I've submitted to The Mighty. This post discusses the struggles I went through with Oldest when she was younger. It was incredibly hard for me to write, because in it I admit to one of the worst parenting moments of my life. 

Even though this article does not discuss RAD or trauma issues, I think it relates to the struggles we go through as trauma parents. The frustration and sadness I currently feel when facing Middle and Little's challenges compares significantly with what I felt as a young single mom on my "worst day." 

As parents, we have good days and bad days. And then we have our worst days.

My worst day came in the summer of 2009. My three-year-old daughter and I had just returned from a disastrous trip to Wal-Mart. She spent the entire trip tearing clothing from the store’s racks, pulling my hair, startling fellow shoppers with random screams and reaching into the purses of anyone walking by our shopping cart. At checkout, she threw everything she could reach, and then spilled my purse onto the floor. As I scooped my belongings back into my bag, one lady decided to scold me for my child’s out-of-control behavior. “You need to tame that kid,” she snarled. “Or someone’s going to do it for you.”

Oldest fell out of a cart at Wal-Mart on a different ill-fated shopping trip. We never had any luck at that store!

Then, on our way out of the store, my daughter soiled her diaper. When we got home, my daughter dumped her crayons out onto the floor and broke them. When she refused to clean them up, my patience evaporated entirely. I screamed at her for acting up at the store, for making a mess at home. I sternly put her in her crib, yelled at her to take a nap, and slammed the door as I stormed out of her room.

My daughter burst into tears. I joined her with my own sad sobs.

Something was “wrong” with my daughter, but no one knew the cause of her problems, nor how to fix them. She let loose with ear-piercing screams roughly a million times every day, getting us kicked off buses and ejected from cabs. She refused to wear her leg braces and wouldn’t take more than a few steps before reverting to a crawl or demanding to be carried. She couldn’t communicate well because her speech was delayed, so our days were filled with meltdowns. Doctors diagnosed her with failure to thrive and questioned whether or not I drank during my pregnancy. They said she would never walk unassisted, never talk, never be able to function independently, that she was “mentally retarded” and “autistic.”

She hit, bit, pulled hair, and head-butted me constantly, and her aggressive behavior wasn’t limited to me… the babysitter I’d most recently hired quit when my daughter bit her son hard enough to break the skin. My job was on the line for lack of childcare.

Again.

When my mom came home on my worst day, I told her how disappointed I was with my life. I wasn’t supposed to live with my mom at my age, but dropping out of college and leaving my daughter’s mentally ill father left me with few options. I wasn’t supposed to be a victim of domestic violence and I wasn’t supposed to be a 26-year-old single mother.

But I was.

I was exhausted and frustrated and on my worst day, I said out loud the unspeakable thought that had been bouncing around in my mind ever since I’d left my daughter’s father.

“If I’d known it was going to be like this and that I’d have to do it as a single mom, I wouldn’t have gone through with this.”

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My daughter has 9p Deletion Syndrome, but I didn’t know that on my worst day. The genetic tests needed to detect small deletions like hers didn’t exist yet. All I knew that day was that everything was falling apart. Something was “wrong” with my kid, and I didn’t think I could handle it. I felt so hopeless, back then. Our prognosis was bleak – I didn’t see anything good in our future.

How could I have known back then that I would come to accept my daughter for who she is, exactly as she is, once I let go of my preconceived notions of parenthood? That, eventually, my daughter would defy the odds and learn to walk unassisted and even manage to jump and jog on her good days? That she would learn to read sight words, write simple sentences and calculate simple math problems? That her amazingly cheerful personality and joyful approach to life would fill me with happiness and brighten the lives of everyone she meets?

How could I have known that I would meet a wonderful man and that he would work hard to help my daughter be the best she can be? To help me be the best I can be? That he would become my husband and adopt my daughter? That she would gain a brother and a sister when a judge granted my husband custody of his children? That my stepchildren would be diagnosed with mental disorders and that my daughter’s loving personality would help us get through our family’s hardest days?

 How could I have known that I would stop thinking of her struggles as though they were the end of the world? That today I would regard them as mere bumps in the road that might be overcome with some hard work? That I would accept the issues that can’t be overcome with empathy and understanding instead of self-pity and depression? That over time I would morph into a competent mom and that people would even come to refer to me as a good mother?

Last night I looked at my daughter and I was so consumed with love I nearly burst. I can not believe that at one point in my life I actually regretted becoming a mother when I ran into unexpected difficulties in raising my daughter. My face gets hot with remorse just thinking about what I thought and what I said.

So, why did I write this? Why did I decide to share this awful moment with the world?

I wrote this because I felt so alone on my worst day and I want to tell parents who are having their worst days: You’re not a monster for feeling hopeless. You’re not alone. One way or another, we all get through this parenting thing. Don’t give up. Things may turn around in unexpectedly wonderful ways.

And you wouldn’t want to miss that, now, would you?

That's right. Doctors said she would likely need a walker or wheelchair forever. A few years later she climbed a mountain!

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.

New blog website!

Hey there everyone! I'm sorry for my lack of updates lately, but I've been working on the new website. The blog portion is up and running (the rest of the pages are still under construction).

Here it is: http://traumamamadrama.com/

Now that I've got that up and running, I'll start updating again soon. I will keep updating on both sites simultaneously for a while, to give anyone who wants to follow the new blog a chance to make the switch.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for your patience!!

Wow! I think it's time for a change!

I've had a TON of traffic lately.

Wow.

I'm humbled and happy that my writing is reaching so many people! The more people know about RAD and the effects of early-childhood trauma, the better.

With the new visitors, I've decided to start the process of moving my blog to WordPress. It just seems like they offer more professional options.

I'm hoping the new site can be more than a blog. I'm working on building an entire website (with my blog as the main feature, of course) and I'm hoping it can serve as a place of community for trauma parents or anyone else who lives with the effects of early-childhood trauma.

I'm even going to have my very own fancy schmancy domain name!

I'll continue to update here as I prepare my new website... Once my new site is ready, I will continue to update here as well as on the new site for a month or two, with an announcement that I'm moving to WordPress atop each post, and eventually I'll phase out my posts on Blogger.

Just giving you all a heads up now... I want to make sure anyone following our story has plenty of time to migrate to WordPress with me!

Okay, that's all for now. I hope to have a new blog post for you all soon!

This Isn't Real Life... This Isn't Fantasy: The strange world of therapeutic parenting

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 enforce consequences, 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.

Peppers and Mustard Sandwiches

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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All young kids have trouble with big concepts like empathy and the true meaning of love. They're abstract concepts you learn in infancy and toddler-hood through reciprocal relationships with human beings (especially parents). When the relationships are good, when Mommy manages to treat Baby with kindness and empathy most of the time, kids develop an understanding that families and friends treat each other kindly. By the time they reach kindergarten, they start to think about how their actions impact the lives of others, but this skill isn't fully developed until much later... And even when the concepts of empathy and love reach their full development, occasionally even the most well-adjusted among us will act in purely selfish manner.

But what happens when early-childhood relationships are not good? What happens when Mommy treats Baby with disdain and disgust and doesn't meet Baby's needs, or the parents scream and fight with each other, or CPS comes in and removes Baby from the home?

When there is no secure attachment for Baby, Baby doesn't learn empathy and the meaning of love. Baby can develop a skewed meaning of what love and empathy mean, or not understand the concepts at all. And a lack of understanding the meaning of love along with an underdeveloped sense of empathy can lay the foundation for Baby developing attachment issues or even attachment disorders.

Love and empathy are not usually explicitly taught to children because they develop it naturally. There might be gentle corrections of children when they are acting unloving or acting without empathy (who hasn't had the "When you say you hate me it hurts my feelings" conversation with their children?), but by the time kids are in kindergarten most of them have at least a modicum of empathetic behavior... at least in the self-serving manner ("If I am nice to this person he will be nice to me" type thinking).

My step-children are five and seven years old, and they really have a skewed concept of what it means to love and have essentially no understanding of empathy. Now that we have custody of them, Husband and I have to teach them these things.

And it is so so so so so so so so so friggin' hard to teach an older kid empathy and love.

So we have to be creative.

It's been rough around here lately and I've lost it several times over the last two weeks. Yelling a lot. Hiding in my room. Sending the kids to their rooms, which is a HUGE therapeutic parenting no-no. But I have been so angry over so many things that I haven't been trusting myself to parent the kids in a normal way, let alone a therapeutic way.

Yesterday, I had a moment of calm, and decided to use a story I've titled "Peppers and Mustard Sandwhiches" to explain to them how I feel when they do the things they aren't supposed to do over and over and over and over and over and over and over and OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER again!


"You don't like mustard (said to Little) and you don't like peppers (said to Middle). Right?"
"Right."
"Okay. So imagine if you came out for lunch and I made Little a mustard sandwich and Middle a plate of peppers. What would you do?"
"I'd say, 'Eeeeeew! I don't LIKE that!'"
"Right. And I'd probably say, 'Oh... I'm sorry! I won't make you that for snack, then.' Would you believe me?"
"Yes."
"Okay, good! So what would happen if you came out for snack and I had a plate full of peppers and a mustard sandwich?"
::no answer::
"Would you be mad?"
"... A little."
"Right. And you'd say you didn't like it. So I would tell you that I was sorry and not make it again for dinner."
"Yeah, because we have to eat!"
"Right. But... When you came out for dinner, I had a plate of peppers and a mustard sandwich again!"
::Middle and Little groan::
"And the next day, I made you the same thing for breakfast. And lunch. And snack. And every time I would tell you that I was sorry and promise not to make them again. But... I make you the same thing for dinner."
"Why?!"
"I don't know... but what would you think?"
"I'd think that you don't love us anymore and you want us to starve!"
"Right. Do you think you would want to do anything fun with me, like play a board game?"
::silent pause:: "No... Because you hurt our feelings!"
"Yes." I took a deep breath. "I feel that way right now. I have to tell you to quit yelling, running in the house, fighting, putting holes in your clothes, trying to hurt the cat, interrupting, hurting yourself with your food... Every day, more than once a day. You know Dad and I don't like it when you do these things, but you do them. A lot. Every day.  And we feel like you have been feeding us mustard sandwiches and peppers."
"Oh."
"So, when you are doing something I don't like, I'm going to try to start saying, 'Peppers! Mustard sandwiches!' Those will be our secret words. Okay?"
::laughter:: "Okay!"


Today was better. Not great... Middle was trying to get Little in trouble and when I asked her what was going on she said, "Because I only want ME and OLDEST to have a good day and I want LITTLE to have a bad day!"  (ahem... WTF?!?!?!) But better. I forgot to use the secret words mostly, but remembered a few times and used them. It stopped the behavior for a moment or two, but wasn't effective for a long period of time.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe... Maybe over time, this will be something that works, and that sticks with them when they're older. I'd much rather them remember me saying, "Peppers and mustard sandwiches!" than remember me yelling at them with a red, scrunched up face.

Maybe I can be silly with them after all.