Door alarm

One of the ways I began to tell something was wrong in my family was when Daniel told me he wanted to sleep in my room by saying in a fearful whisper, "She's right over there!" pointing toward Loreli's room. I was shocked to hear and feel this fear from him. I knew he was worried about her but not to this extent.

So recently I asked Brad to put an alarm on Loreli's door. I've wanted to do this for years but she was younger and couldn't sleep with the door closed. I didn't know what to do and I also didn't yet recognize the trauma of the rest of the family. Now, she doesn't mind the door closed and often asks for it. The alarm is a simple, "bing bong" sound when the door is opened. To appear fair, Brad put one on Daniel's door as well, however we never close Daniel's door so it's for appearances only. It keeps us from having to watch the baby video monitors all evening after they go to bed and banishes the fear of going to sleep with no warnings of her leaving her room. 

This was a good solution for us, for now. So far, so good. I have found part of her alarm half peeled off the door once. It's likely that it will be peeled off and hidden or thrown away at some point but we have others to replace it.

If you think you know Loreli and are shocked about this story, let me say this:

Daniel has not had one nightmare, nor one time that he has crawled into bed with us since that alarm was placed on her door.

The first night the alarm was on her door, I slept like the dead. 

When Ike hears the alarm go off in the morning, he runs and hides.

Brad still has a video camera in Daniel's room that records. It shows the bed and Daniel's door, looking out into the hall. Ike often goes in there in the middle of the night, turns around, and lays down, facing Loreli's room. Head up, ears up, eyes open. I had no idea he did that. I knew that Onya went in there to check on him but I didn't know about Ike's behavior until recently. I wanted to burst into tears when I saw that piece of video.

He knows.

A traumatized family

Toward the middle of this summer I was just feeling...abused. It was the only word I could come up with. I felt like an idiot for even thinking it.

Abused? By a child? Really? What kind of parent could be abused by a child?

I started, the way I often start new feelings or thoughts, by wandering the web. I just typed in my feelings, watched what came up and chose something that sounded about right. You know how it goes, right? Clicking through page after page of stuff, hitting on something that was spot on, consuming that site and moving on to something that's linked there. Suddenly my life was becoming more clear. There are parents out there who are being abused by their children.

And that's how I started figuring out what was happening in my house.

I know RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder) because my daughter has it. I live with it every day. But I'm still learning about the toll it takes on the family. The severe triangulation and what that really means. The abuse certain members (mom, siblings, pets) of the family suffer, the confusion of the father (because of the triangulation, Dad rarely sees the abuse). None of it is Loreli's fault, it's not like she can help being this way...it's what trauma does to her brain.

Here's what I learned this summer:

RAD is a mental illness. I never thought of it that way. I knew it was a “disorder” and I knew that trauma caused it, why, and what the symptoms were--I just thought it was something we could eventually work through. I looked up RAD and DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.) The description had me wondering what was the difference between "disorder" and "mental illness" and I found there really wasn't one. I asked a psychologist friend of mine and she concurred. 

Finding that RAD was a mental illness helped me so much. It's not that my daughter was a horrible person or that she has this weird “disorder” that for some reason we weren't able to help her with yet, she's mentally ill. Her brain isn't working right because of the trauma she suffered.

That led me to looking at mental illness. Lots of sites for that but I came across one called Out of the Fog for families with loved ones with mental illness. A huge amount of pertinent information. Explanations of various types of mental illnesses, forums, types of treatments. Nothing about RAD unfortunately and when I posted on one of the forums I found great people, but the moderator nicely said that it was a forum for families with children that have a diagnosed mental illness.

Sigh. I have a child with a diagnosed mental illness. And this is a huge trigger for me: Because it's a child, because so few have ever heard of it, because it's aimed at the adoptive mom, siblings, pets and so rarely the father--therefore it must be rare or possibly untrue. A figment of imagination of an adoptive mom who isn't able to parent, because something is wrong with her. I've seen the confused looks when I try to explain Loreli's behaviors. Her behaviors sound normal to other parents, "Oh Jamie did just that the other day." Believe me fellow Mommy, he really...Did. Not.

Does your previously happy dog suddenly start running, skittering across the wood floor, peeing, fleeing, and hiding when he sees your child?

No? Good. I'm happy for you.

Is your younger son afraid to go to sleep because his sister's room is across the hall?

No? Yay. I'm happy for you.

When you connect with your daughter and have a great time together (even something as simple as reaching out to hold her hand or having a close conversation)--within 24 hours does she turn around and start verbally and psychologically abusing you? Or, worse yet, verbally, psychologically, and physically abusing your youngest child and your pets?

No? Seriously. I'm happy for you. I wish I could say the same.

Do you have to keep your daughter in line-of-sight at all times to make sure your other children are safe? Has your daughter ever pushed your son down the stairs and when questioned, look you dead in the eyes, with an expressionless face and deny that it even happened?

This kind of stuff seems crazy and unbeliLorelible, even to me, and it’s happening in my home. After 6 years of this the mom of a RAD child starts doubting her own sanity. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking down into the faces of my children: Loreli two steps down, looking at me with zero emotion and Daniel huddled on the middle landing (thank God our stairs are split in half) crying and looking up at me with his big brown eyes, hurt (and not just physically) and confused why his sister (who he obviously loves) would want to hurt him. Looking into Loreli’s eyes (the only time she locks eye contact like that is when she is lying) and have her say in a flat, dead, monotone, “I don’t know. I didn’t do it.” As that mom, I know what I feel: hurt, confused, angry, betrayed. The center of my chest literally aches…all the time now. I hear her words, I see her looking at me, I know she’s lying. But the liar and the lie is so strong, so in-your-face, so resolute, so certain, so angry that she might not be believed that a part of me questions what I just witnessed first hand.

Warring inside my heart every moment of every day is what I know to be true and a child who will do anything to survive what she perceives as ongoing trauma.

I wondered if there was a term for the way I was feeling about Loreli's behaviors. Confused, hurt, feeling like I am crazy, feeling like I'm going to die, wondering why certain things looked so innocuous but felt horrible or looked horrible, felt horrible, but I was being told that what I was seeing wasn’t true...I started typing in those phrases and came up with an uncanny description of what was happening. It's called "gaslighting." It wasn't in the context of RAD but in adult relationships. It was under narcissistic personality disorder. As she gets older and smarter, her behaviors become more and more covert. She's a bright and clever girl. 

"Another common tactic of emotional abuse employed by individuals with narcissistic issues is “gaslighting.” This term was coined after a movie titled Gaslight (1944) in which a form of psychological abuse resulting in cognitive dissonance occurred for the main character, played by Ingrid Bergman. The result of gaslighting is that the target of abuse doubts his or her own reality of the situation because the abuser is trying to confuse and disorient the target in order to maintain power and control, all at the cost of the emotional well-being of the target."

In order to keep my son, dogs, and myself safe, I put Loreli in 9-5 daycare for the remainder of the summer. It looked so odd to others. I didn't care. As the full realization began to hit me, safety was my number one goal.

I remember thinking, "I can't deal with her abuse anymore. No...I won't deal with her abuse anymore and now that I know for sure what’s going on, I won’t let her hurt anyone else in the family either."

Kids with RAD fight against connection. I've talked about this before. Their trauma was so severe that they can't trust anyone anymore. This plays out on the adoptive mom, often siblings and pets, but not dad. The experts guess it's because of the bond we have with our mom. Losing bio mom, or being damaged by bio mom, or being abandoned by bio mom traumatizes the child to the extreme. They felt like they would die when it happened and eventually it becomes clear to them: love, bonding, connection, attention from mom, is certain death. How would you act if you thought that a relationship would kill you?  

Feels like none of us can escape the abuse

As usual when things go haywire here, I go off the grid. Depression and anxiety have hit hard and I'm doing everything I can to stay afloat. Here's where we are today:

I was thinking about how Daniel, the dogs, and I are living with the person who traumatized/is traumatizing us and how we can't get away from our abuser.

Then I thought about how children with RAD look at their adoptive moms--subconsciously they can't differentiate between their adoptive mom and bio mom. In Loreli's mind, she is living with the person who traumatized her/is traumatizing her and she can't get away from her abuser either.

I've recently read that the RAD child's mind keeps purposely triggering the trauma in order to work through it/heal it but it doesn't work. It just keeps making the trauma groove deeper in the brain.

What a sad situation.

Re-teaching

Me, sending Daniel on his bike to go get Jase: So, what do you say if someone stops you and says, "Hey, your Mom sent me over so you could help me. My puppy is missing. Could you help me find him?"
Daniel: I'd say, "Sure!"
Me, blanching: No! I would never send a stranger to pick you up. You would scream and yell and ride your bike home as fast as you could!

I can't tell you how many times we've talked about this through the years. I really thought he had it! Then I thought back to the last time we all talked about it...we were driving down 9th and I was giving them scenarios and they would yell back, "NO! Stay away! Help!" etc. But the more I thought of that moment in time...I can hear Loreli yelling and carrying on, but I see Daniel in my mind's eye...zoning out, staring into space, overwhelmed by the noise, his sister's intensity and the small space we were in.

The brain of a traumatized child is an interesting thing, no? Thinking of all the things that I need to re-teach.

Getting to live a tiny bit of "normal"

I had forgotten what it was like. It's been so long (6 years) since Daniel experienced "normal"--he probably doesn't even remember what it's like. He and a friend in school just found out that they live about a quarter mile away from each other and they've been lobbying to get together. It finally worked out today. Loreli is gone to therapy and the boys get to be together without the distraction of a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder. Jase's* dad dropped him off, the boys rode off back to his house to check everything out and are now back here, checking everything out. I've never been able to let Daniel so loose before because with Loreli around, he is always at risk--physically and psychologically.

To have Daniel be able to have this tiny bit of normal brings joy and happy (but hidden) tears to this Mommy :-)

*Name changed :-)

Siblings

Last night after an "event" with Loreli where she hit Daniel, hard, I said to Loreli, "I want you to know that this is not how a "normal" sister acts. This is not how sisters and brothers act typically. Usually brothers and sisters will fight some but the way Loreli acts toward you is not the normal way of siblings."

Daniel looked up at me with a tear stained face, sad, and unsure, said, "Oh..."

And why would he know? This is what he has known since he was two years old. Her behavior toward him IS "normal" to him.

Abuse is "normal" for him.

And that breaks my heart.

Re-reading this post, I realize that I need to tell Daniel, repeatedly, that the way she acts is NOT his fault.

What would you do?

I have the right to leave an emotionally abusive relationship but what do you do when that abuse is coming from your 10 year old child? When the weakest dog is petrified, the younger sibling always wants to sleep in my bed because he doesn't feel safe in the room next to her, and I'm in a constant hypervigilant state in order to keep us safe?

Right now we are in a "honeymoon period" where she is trying to keep herself in check but the tiny behaviors are starting to creep in and will just escalate. I can no longer enjoy this time because I know what her cycle is now.

What would you do?

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day that we take our ten year old daughter to a psychiatrist. I can't believe I'm even saying that.

This is just so hard. The past week Loreli has been on an upswing. Because...well who knows. But it's hard to not get sucked into sweet Loreli. It's so sad to fully realize the cycle: as soon as I drop my guard and fall in love once more she changes the game and her anger takes over--when I love her she becomes terrified that I will abandon her. I understand that it is likely the feeling she has about her biological mother. She loved Loreli and then had to let her go. I don't think she can help the cycle but it hurts the rest of us all the same.

She's still in daycare everyday, mostly from 9-5 so she's safe, reasonably happy and has a lot of structure. But how do I answer the question, "Am I going to take swimming lessons too?" I can't keep putting Daniel, the dogs, and myself in harms way. Walking on eggshells, worried about what will set her off and how bad it will be. It's exhausting. But seeing her earnest little face and eyes, "Am I going to take swimming lessons too?" is painful and sad. What do I say to that?

UPDATE from an hour later:

Me: I just wrote about not knowing what to say to you when you ask, "Do I get to take swimming lessons too?" You know, I'm sad and confused and scared and I just don't know what to do at this point. You aren't doing anything extra, as far as swimming lessons or anything else because we are on hold right now, while we figure out what our next step is going to be. I have been holding back these past few weeks, trying not to connect with you much, both out of anger from when you hurt Onya last and also wondering if this will help you stay on an even keel. You have been pretty even this week but there's no telling, really, why that is, not yet. I want to show you I love you but if I do then the other Loreli comes out and there is no stopping her.

Loreli: Maybe the doctor will help us.

Me: That's what we are hoping for.

I want you to know that sending you to daycare everyday isn't a punishment. It's just the only way I know how to keep Daniel, the dogs, and me safe. You know how you get really mad and then sometimes you hurt one of us? You being in daycare lessens the chances of that happening. Remember the cycle that we talked about? The one where you are happy to be loved and then the other Loreli can't have that connection and decides to lash out? That part really hurts you, and all of us. It's taken me a long time to realize that loving you is important but protecting our family is important too. Abuse actually damages the person being abused and while I love you, I can't continue to allow us to suffer from that abuse. I don't know if you can't stop this cycle or if you don't want to, or if you want to but just don't know how. I hope we can figure it out.

I understand that me coming in here, telling you this, showing emotion and crying about it, and you listening and understanding, is a connection and that connection will cause you to lash out at me soon. But I just wanted to talk with you about daycare and what's going on so that at least this part of you, this Loreli, knows that I love you, I want that connection, I know you do too, and I understand that you either won't or can't have it. I hope there is a way and that someday you'll allow it.

Me: Crying crying crying through the whole thing

Loreli: A great big hug at the end of it all, holding on tight and squeezing me for a long time. Somewhere in there is my child. I hope she can find her way out.

Focusing on "rare"

The thought of having a child with a mental illness is overwhelming. It's funny how I've not thought of it this way for the nearly six years she's been home. RAD is a mental illness brought about by trauma but somehow I've always thought that I could find a way through it for her--if I just kept learning, changing, researching, reading, changing some more, understanding trauma in general and her trauma specifically, talking with her--if I just, if I just, if I just. It's also possible that this isn't "just" RAD--as if RAD isn't enough to deal with. Poor girl. Poor us.

And it seems so stupid now. "If I just" seems ridiculous. I can't fix mental illness. It's possible that this is too severe for anyone to fix. That's the saddest thing ever. It is possible that if she wants to, she might be able to work through it over time but it's also just as possible that even that wouldn't work, that this is just the way her brain is.

I'm trying to wrap my head around that idea. Because seeing the worst case scenario is a coping mechanism for me. It feels like, somehow, I won't be as hurt if it happens that way, if I think about it first. Which, sadly, doesn't work. I'm still just as horrified on the rare occasion that the worst happens. I guess I need to focus on that. It's rare that the worst happens.

So, this week, we are going to visit a nurse practitioner of integrative psychiatry. She is supposed to be all about finding ways to help that don't involve medication unless absolutely necessary. I'm happy about that. It sounds like there are lots of ways to try before we go that route. I have a ton of paperwork/questions to fill out on Loreli's behalf and then ask her all the same questions to get her take on it.

I'm just hoping and praying that something will help her.

Siblings

Today Daniel and I went to the pool and we took some neighborhood friends. A brother and sister pair. I was shocked to the point of tears (that I stuffed down) to see the siblings caring about each other. Sure, there was a little bit of nitpicking, but over all, wow. I was reminded of my brother and me. That bond was the reason I wanted to adopt a sibling for Daniel. There are times when they get along but so often she is mean to him. And Daniel just retreats into himself. It breaks my heart. With Loreli in daycare the past few weeks, Daniel and I get to go play and now we are inviting friends who I haven't felt comfortable inviting in...well, ever. Watching the three of them being silly and ENGAGED was a balm for my soul and an arrow to my heart.

I feel such guilt. This is not the life I want my sweet boy to have to live.

Daniel to Loreli: I love you Loreli!
Loreli: I don't love you.

The shock and hurt on his face is crushing.

Clarification and a dream

I need to clarify something--the dogs are okay, Daniel is okay. When I say that Loreli hurts them, it's sneaky, small things, nothing that will permanently harm, yet. As closely as I watch I can't have eyes on them 24/7. I have two video monitors that I use too. I've been thinking about this a lot this past week. I've realized this behavior has been going on for the entire time she's been home, almost 6 years. I'm horrified to realize how much I've swept under the rug in hopes that she would heal over time. In hopes that I could "fix" her.

Last night I had a dream:

I was standing in the kid's school, next to the lockers that Loreli will be using this coming up year. I had a bowl of Oreos in my hand. The Oreos were the "keys" to the locks on the lockers. I knew that the Oreos had always opened the locker doors but this time, each Oreo I picked up from the bowl wasn't whole enough to fit into the lock. I looked down into the bowl and the Oreos had fallen apart and none could be used. I was scared and upset. I sifted through them to the bottom and found one that I thought was whole. I was excited but when I carefully lifted it out, I realized that it was only about three-quarters of the cookie and it began slowly crumbling in my hand.

You know, the way all my hopes and dreams are crumbling. Pretty telling that the "keys" to the locker-that-is-Loreli are crumbling and useless as I begin to realize that there is more wrong here than I can "fix".

In the coaching program we are taught that it's not our job to fix everything, it's the client's job. And in Loreli's case, she can't do this for herself. Experts are needed.

Fault

The fault I can accept is that, in trying to protect Brad from Loreli's horrible behavior, he now only knows the behavior I have allowed him to see. My protection was exactly that, protection but the other piece of it was my own insistence upon being able to handle it all myself. Yuck.

Sad, depressed, relieved, scared, resigned

We need prayers, good thoughts, positive energy sent our way. Loreli hurt Onya on purpose again a couple of days ago because she was angry with me telling her to take a shower before her brother. The cycle of abuse continues.

I have been spending all of my energy on protecting Daniel and the dogs (and putting myself in the way of the abuse instead) and I finally realized that no matter what I do or don't do, as the case may be, I can't "fix" her. I can lead her to healing but I can't make her accept it. She continues the cycle: abuse, honeymoon period (no saying or acting sorry, just suddenly starting to hug us and sit close), then as soon as we get sucked back in she goes back to the same scary behavior. I don't know how to get her to stop hurting us. No consequence makes any difference whatsoever.

I'm beginning to wonder if this is something more than Reactive Attachment Disorder. The hurting Daniel and/or the dogs on purpose is a very frightening behavior. Currently she's in full day daycare which she enjoys, they have structure, and she's safe (she doesn't show the scary behaviors outside of the home.) AND, we are safe--it's an incredible feeling and Daniel is flourishing in that safety. She mostly has these behaviors when Brad isn't here. They are aimed at me, Daniel, and the dogs and when I shield them, it's intensified toward me. She has to stay in my sight because I can't trust her but that just makes me a target. Better me than them, but it's a hellish price to pay. What does this teach Daniel? That it's okay to take abuse? Does he understand the situation? This is my daughter, I can't divorce her. What's next?

As I look back through this past year of doing the program we've been on, I've realized that this cycle has been going on since she got home at four years old. Through the early years, even after I got Rayn, and did the program--the cycle has never stopped.

The feeling of failure is strong. The feeling of relief when she's at daycare is just as strong.

It's absolutely shocking that nothing has really helped and that in the past year the "hurting" behaviors have escalated. We've all heard the stories of the kind of adults who hurt younger siblings and animals when they were children. It's not good. The options of where to go from here are grim.

Photo shoot at Rocky Mountain National Park with the kids

Buying a farm--learning to stay in the flow

Found as I was walking along this morning, coming to this realization

Brad and I have been looking for a farm and have found a place we love. It requires a leap of faith. The thought of it is, in turns, both exciting and terrifying. Day dreaming of it, imagining living there, our kids there, our mare Rayn there and someday other friends: more horses, a mini donkey, some free range chickens, growing hay, all of that is very exciting! Weaving the dream seems to be in my personality. Brad, with his personality, is the make-it-happen-guy. We make a great team.

For me, in this moment in time though, I'm feeling a little rushed. The dreamweaving isn't complete quite yet. His "hows" aren't quite answered either. I need a little time.

I've been rushing along with my make-it-happen partner and this morning I found myself finally "feeling" my body: my churning, upset stomach, what felt like the edge of a panic attack, it was hard to take a deep breath! This absolutely may be the perfect farm for us, I hope it is, but I don't find happiness in forcing it to happen. For me, the happiness and peace come in watching it unfold before my eyes.

So, I'm going to continue to get our house ready to put on the market. I'm going to continue making the phone calls I need to make, with the goal/vision in sight.

What I'm changing is my mental and emotional state around the whole thing. I'm letting go of the fear:
"The interest rates are going up. If we are going to do it, the time is now!"
"Where can we find enough retired horses to board?!"
"What if the owners don't want to throw in their haying equipment!?"

I refuse to be rushed in this. What a joyous time in our lives, a lifelong dream is being realized. The only now that has to be done is to enjoy the process and to feel good. If something feels icky then that piece isn't flowing toward the greatest good, that piece gets held up, held back. I'm looking for flow, for awe, for the magic. When I feel good, it comes. When I don't, it doesn't. Pretty simple really.

Project 365

Midgie

Project 365, Day...who knows :-)

Thoughts about Level 1, lying and the "heart" of a child

In the days and weeks following our second version of “Level 1” I fluctuated between awe, worry, and panic. Parenting a traumatized child is a rollercoaster. Parenting a "normal" child is a rollercoaster—one fraught with all of the same feelings but in my experience of Nichole, Josh, and Daniel it’s a quick zooooooop into the bottom of the loop and then quickly back up. Up and down, round and round the track, it’s mostly fun with moments of terror quickly replaced by giggles.

The rollercoaster that I ride with Loreli spends days, weeks, and sometimes months in the depths. Sadness, anger, and so much fear swirling around our lives, sometimes I wonder how we will make it through.

I realized just this morning that part of the reason I get upset when Loreli is in the depths and cheats or lies is because, unlike a "normal" child, it’s not a once in a while thing. It’s a symptom of her biggest fear, abandonment, and it’s not going to stop on it’s own. One lie quickly turns into ten, turns into a lifestyle, turns into feeling so completely, overwhelmingly unsafe that meltdowns and rages are a daily occurrence. She goes back to hurting dogs, hurting Daniel, all behaviors designed to show me how scared she is. 

I'm learning to recognize a child's heart in things. A lie can be "normal" and it can be "reactive attachment disorder". The difference is the liar's heart. When I say, in a wheedling tone, "Now, come on, that sounds like a story...tell me the truth." and the child says with a grin and a flash of giggling eyes, "Okay, what really happened is________," this is what "typical" children exhibit more often than not. A "RAD" lie is something else. When I say, in a wheedling tone, "Now, come on, that sounds like a story...tell me the truth..." a RAD lie sounds and looks like this: "NO! IT'S TRUE!" with angry flashing eyes and maybe a flat, non-expressive face. They are so afraid and that fear feels like a clenched fist in my heart. 

I can only imagine how it feels to be a child from a trauma background. How terrible to feel that your parent is going to abandon you because of a lie. How terrible to feel that your parent is going to abandon you because they love you (Loreli feels that if I love her then I will abandon her--exactly how her birth mother did). How do we, as parents, find our way into the hearts of children who are stuck between the rock of our love and the hard place of their past trauma?

Spider dreams!

Building on my last post about self-sabotage and how I'm spending the week "allowing the Good" in my life, last night I had a dream about spiders building huge webs. I woke up, wrote that down and went back to sleep. Yesterday I had a wonderful call with my instructor about some exciting possibilities so I figured that the dream had to do with building my vision. I thought I would do a quick search online (even though we're told that dreams are always personal and don't bother with pat answers) and found this at the first link:

"a spider refers to a powerful force protecting you against your self-destructive behavior"

Perfect, yes? :-)

And in relation to my own interpretation of my spider dream:
  
Just as the Spider weaves a web, so too must we weave our own lives. The Spider symbol meaning here serves as a reminder that our choices construct our lives. When the Spider appears to us, it is a message to be mindful of the choices we are making - and ask ourselves:  

Questions The Spider Asks of Us

• How are my choices affecting my life?
• How can my choices improve my life?
• How are my choices affecting others in my life?

Spending this week allowing the Good to be around me and being aware of all my reactions to it has been eye opening and soul opening.

The Good

Watching my daughter self-sabotage the Good in her life has had me shining a light on that part of myself these past months. It's shocking how much I too, self-sabotage. I gave myself a goal today. It started off as just this, "This week I'm going to allow the good." but quickly morphed into the Good--those wonderful things God/Source/Spirit/our Higher Selves/the Universe shows me everyday. The things I often look at and think, "I can't have that." or "I don't deserve that." or "I'm not allowed." 

The Good

This week I'm going to allow the Good.

I don't have to run up to the Good, screaming, "Welcome! I'm so excited you're here!"

that might be too scary. 

All I have to do is allow it to exist around me. 

I'm visualizing myself like a horse, who sees something worrisome: 

Neck arched, eyes wide, nostrils flared, "WHAT IS THAT??? Oh my God!" 
tiptoeing up to the Good, sniffing it, jumping away in fear, 
looking at it out of the corner of my eye, pretending I don't see it, 
pretending I really wasn't that scared of it. 

Taking a deep breath and tiptoeing up to the Good again, 

closing my eyes as the Good reaches out to touch my cheek, 
and having that brief moment of Recognition 
before leaping away again, "Oh my God! It TOUCHED me!" 

This week, I'm going to allow the Good to exist near me. 

Maybe engage in a little dance. 
And begin to learn that the Good isn't going to eat me.

Hiding

I’ve been hiding.

When my life takes a steep dip, I hide. There are a few people who hear about it but mostly I keep to myself. When I can’t think, feel, or research my way out of something, I feel as if I am totally lost.

I know, logically, that it’s ridiculous. I need to be outside, get in the sun, visit with the horses, and be with family and friends who truly love me.

I need to write. A lot. It might be the very best medicine for me but when things get really bad I can’t say anything nice, at all. In the moment there is no, “Hey, this horrible thing happened and here’s how it worked out.” No, it’s all horrible and not getting better. (Boy that sure sounds like Loreli doesn’t it? I can’t imagine why we trigger each other so much…)

This newest version of hell started immediately after I wrote this post about Daniel. Loreli was so angry that Daniel was getting the attention he deserved. To her it meant that life was unpredictable and scary. It took me a long time for me to truly come to terms with my own phrase, “Manipulation is a cry for help.” Loreli was, daily, begging for help with her behavior and manipulations. But, being human, and tired, and not taking care of myself enough, I had just had enough. I didn’t want to have to go back to the beginning again/Level One, that was really hard!

Looking back I think, “Sure Level One is difficult, but nothing is as difficult as living with a child who feels so unsafe that they are completely out of control!” If there is a person living in the house who feels unsafe, no one feels safe.

Loreli spiraled out of control. She went from screaming, yelling, and slamming doors to growling and acting aggressively. Next up was lying, cheating, and stealing. She was flipping out and I was too scared to do anything about it. Scared that doing our version of Level One wouldn’t work again. Scared that I didn’t have it in me to do that again. Scared of doing it all on my own. Scared that Daniel was being traumatized again, just when I had started to work on that with him. Scared that this was going to happen over and over and over again for the rest of our lives. But when Loreli’s behavior got really bad, and she hurt Daniel, hurt Onya, and tried to hurt Midgie all in the space of a few days, I knew I didn’t have a choice. She was so frightened that she had come to the edge. She was throwing out every behavior she knew in order to make me sit up and take notice. I did. We went back to Level One. This time I typed it up and gave her a copy so she would know exactly what was going on.

With all of that fear, anxiety, and depression swirling around inside of me I began having chest pains and weird aches and pains in my body. I went to the doctor and had a CIMT test. This is an ultrasound of the carotid arteries in the neck—it shows how much plaque is lining the arteries. I was half expecting them to rush me in to emergency surgery because I was so clogged. When I went into see Deb, my nurse practitioner, she told me I had the arteries of a 46 year old. Being 45, I was pretty happy about that. We talked about some other things and suddenly I found myself blurting out, “I’m pretty sure the stress of my life is going to kill me.” Deb, bless her heart, looked at me, took me seriously and said, “We need to look at lessening the stress in your life.” I looked back and said, “I can’t get rid of this stress, she’s my daughter.” Deb asked me to go eat lunch and come back for a “Myer’s Cocktail IV”.

It took about an hour and I felt amazing. Calmly energized. I could THINK again. The anxiety had lessened. The depression had lifted. It was incredible. That was a Friday afternoon.

It lasted for 24 hours.

Saturday evening and all day Sunday I was back to fear, anxiety and depression. Monday I had another IV.

It lasted for 4 days.

I’ve had 6 now and I’m up to every 2 weeks. Deb’s nurse says, “We are just filling in all your potholes. You should be able to get these once a month eventually.”

The fear, anxiety, and depression are gone. I’m able to think, respond, and act in a positive way. I had no idea I was so riddled with anxiety and depression. I thought I was slightly prone. It wasn’t until I had the relief the vitamins and minerals gave me that I realized, “Oh my God! I’ve been depressed and anxious for the 5 years that Loreli has been home.”

I’m very good at hiding that part of myself most of the time and I’m a master at smiling and laughing so no one usually knows—things I’m working on.

Look what happened when I finally let my guard down and told someone the scary truth without a smile or a laugh…

Someone helped me. 

And it was good.

Project 365, Day 44

An iPhone camera day :-)  They have these great cross country jumps at the farm that they recently acquired but no one uses them. The kids thought they were a great playground though!

She looks a little put out doesn't she!?

Hey, Girl, what are you doing in there?

Project 365, Day 43

Asha and James

Project 365, Day 42

Rayn

There's a hole in my sidewalk...

From the public time-in on Friday, a four hour time-in on Sunday, and a time-in with Daddy on Monday--we've been going through hell lately. Almost a month ago I realized how much more Daniel needed and that we really had to step up our game. Since then Loreli has been on this downward spiral. Logically I understand it. Emotionally I've been freaking out, "How can this be? We've come so far! All of our lives have been so much better since mid-November, I just can't go through this hell again!"

Apparently I can.

After four hours (our past record was two) in a time-in on Sunday she finally decided to try to talk to me. Using a stem sentence I encouraged her with, "I'm afraid because..." 

Tears...stammering..."I'm afraid because I think you never really wanted me."

We talked about that a little but looking at it now I think I should have asked her, "What is it that makes you think I never wanted you?" maybe we would have gotten to what I think is the crux of the problem--when I give attention to Daniel she no longer feels loved--or she has something else going on in there that I don't yet know about.

Instead I asked her what Hiro (the part of her that is "survivor Loreli") thought. She wasn't sure, she just feels unwanted.

We talked about how our brains kind of get a "groove" in them and that groove is comfortable. It may not feel good but it feels familiar and sometimes familiar is mistaken for good. Maybe Hiro is pushing her toward that groove. I told her I have my own inner Hiro and she's always pushing me toward living in that groove too. She thinks it's safe in there. 

Loreli looked at me with big eyes and said, "What does your Hiro tell you?"

I looked into Loreli's eyes and thought, "Is this wise?" It's probably some serious ammo that will be flung back at me someday but going along with my wish to live a more full, deep, big, open-hearted life, I said, "It's ugly. My inner Hiro says, 'You aren't perfect. You aren't even good enough. You aren't good enough to help the kids. What makes you think you can do it? You suck.'"

Loreli looked shocked. Then teary. Then resolute. "Mom, that's not true. You are good enough. You help us all the time."

Then I was teary...

I told her I fight my inner Hiro all the time and sometimes I succeed, "I hear you but I don't agree. Bug off."

We talked about one of our favorite poems by Portia Nelson:

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

Chapter One:
I walk down the street.
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. 
I fall in.
I am lost...I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two:
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three:
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in...it's a habit...but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter Four: 
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter Five:
I walk down another street.

I told her I think I'm in chapter three. She didn't think she was. We recited it and she decided that she was in chapter two. "When I fall in the hole I think I might want to stay there forever. I can't get out on my own. I need you to pull me out."

This kid.

"I'm glad I'm a step ahead and can help you get out of that hole. Just imagine how it will feel when we both 'walk down another street.'" 

I talked to her about what I call "The Trauma Pie". "Imagine a pie with a bunch of pieces, let's say it has..."

"27 pieces."

"Okay, 27 pieces. They are all pieces of one trauma. For 7 months now you've been working through one piece at a time. You fall into the hole in the sidewalk, you allow me to pull you out, we look at the pie piece of that trauma, talk about it and then let it fall into the dirt, buh-bye. Now we have 26 pieces to work through. Each time the pie gets a little bit smaller. Every piece we look at, talk about, work through and let fall into the dirt just means that we are that much closer to "walking down another street" someday. For that trauma. There are others too, right? We keep chunking away at those Trauma Pies, both of us! But someday we will both "walk down another street" and our pie plates will be empty. And when another trauma pops up, because we are human, we'll know how to work our way through and we can help each other do it."

After going through all that emotion though she was back as Hiro the next evening with Brad. Damn. Amazingly though, Brad tried his first time-in! Yay Brad! This is not an easy process and takes a lot of listening to your Inner Voice. 

I wasn't around because I had dealt with so much verbal abuse from Daniel earlier and was sick of the whole thing so I was hiding in my car in the garage.

No, I'm not kidding. 

No, I didn't have a bottle of wine with me. I don't drink but sometimes I wish I did.

I was so exhausted that I fell asleep and woke up with a scream and flailing out in the dark, not having a clue as to where I was. The light had gone off in the garage and it was pitch black in the car. I must have hit the power lock button in my panic so when I finally realized I was in my car and tried to open the door, I still couldn't get out---aaaarrrrgh!

Anyway.

The time-in devolved into this poster that she propped in her door:

Which is the saddest thing I've ever seen. When I posted it on a private Reactive Attachment Disorder list I'm on, I got a lot of comments saying, "Thank God she's verbal about it. It's scarier when you don't know what they are thinking."

I was distraught though. I had definitely "fallen into the hole in the sidewalk". I saw it but I didn't know what else to do.

So I listened to the call of the horses and went to see them yesterday. I took my camp chair with the foot rest, a big floppy hat (it's 65 degrees here in Colorado) and my journal. Here is what I learned:

Wynter kept snuffling me, trying to gently nibble me and my chair. I kept telling him to, "Be gentle..." After I had said it for the twentieth time I actually heard what I was saying. "Yes, I hear what I said Wynter. Thank you." I'm supposed to "be gentle" with my children.

Like a petulant child I asked him, "Who's going to be gentle with me!?" And he said, "We are."

He stopped nibbling and stood quiet vigil over me for about ten minutes, his head and neck hanging over me in my chair. It felt I had a protector. And with Wynter being a near 18hh horse (very, very tall), that was quite the feeling!

He went to get a drink and then came back to curiously nibble at my chair again, he was so persistent!

... ... ...

Oh, got it! As I am supposed to be! Stay the course, don't give up! Stop doubting what I know. 

He wanted me to remember my saying about children of trauma, "Manipulation is a cry for help." Say it with me here:

Manipulation is a cry for help.

Rayn came to me to lend her support and show me to take care of myself. She's like a trusted girlfriend.

And then sweet Remi came over to me. Oh, my heart.

 

With his inhalation, "We..." and his exhalation, "Love you..." over and over and over again.

Crying, I synced my breath with his and the, "We love you," changed to him saying and then me following his lead--together with our breathing, "We love. We love. We love." 

 

He said, "It is what we (all of us) are here to do. Because we (the horses and I) open wide to love we are easily hurt."

And then Remi said, "If that is the price to be paid, I'll gladly pay it."

 

"Boundaries are necessary but don't use them to wall yourself off."

"Come to us," and then he put his nose in the center of my chest and said, "We clear your energy." (I had been thinking that maybe I needed to go get some Reiki for myself).

Needless to say I left feeling loved, protected, clear on my purpose, and ready to take on the rest of the day. 

I can do this. I am doing this. And when I have fallen into the hole in the sidewalk I need to climb out and go sit with the horses in their pasture. Next time you hear me in a panic please tell me, "Climb out of that hole and go to the horses!" :-)

And if you got this far--bless you. That was a novella!