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.

I'm Dreaming of a Trauma-Free Christmas

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'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where no meltdowns happened, and children listened
To us when we had to tell them, "No"

I'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
With every outburst and each fight
Can't our days be merry and bright?
And why can't our children just act right?

I'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
All that I want is Christmas cheer
Not these hateful faces, nor these exhausting paces
But it is not to be I fear

I'm dreaming of a trauma-free Christmas
With every single fit they throw
I'm just so tired of telling them, "No"
Man, I wish I had somewhere else where I could go

The Candy Cane Lesson

(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.

So I'll keep trying.

Every single day.