Some before birth due to poor prenatal care, domestic violence, substance use and abuse. Some after birth - abandonment, abuse. All suffer from the trauma of the loss of their birth families - for however short a time. Some are more resilient, some seem virtually unscathed. But it's there. Trauma. And it manifests in as many different ways as there are different kids. And it's there for a lifetime. Some process and manage and develop amazing coping abilities. And hope.
There is always hope.
Earlier today I discovered that One Kid had been destructive. A Christmas gift had been dismantled, destroyed, and hidden. The value of the item was not the issue - we've learned the hard way to thoughtfully and carefully allow OK to have a few nice things only when fully supervised. Along with routine checks of OK's bedroom, back pack, coat pockets, laundry hamper, trashcan - of which OK is fully aware - this plan has been somewhat successful, and has led to incremental increases in trust.
Finding the ruined gift today sends us back to ground zero with trust. And I knew that a hard conversation was going to have to be had. And without fail this type of conversation has led to further break-downs in our always tenuous relationship. So after I confirmed with Stan that we needed to plan for a private conversation with OK, my insides began to react - knotted stomach, achy heart, pounding head, racing mind... fight or flight.
To fight FOR - not against - OK.
To fight FOR our relationship.
To fight FOR an understanding of trust.
To fight FOR my child to process the trauma and be able to move ahead with life.
But flight seems so much easier. Just ignore it, throw it away. If I don't mention it, OK never will either. We stay out of each other's way; keep each other at arm's length; avoid eye contact and simple conversation. I'm far from proud to admit that this is sometimes what I've chosen. Sometimes because OK only gets defensive and upset and we end up going nowhere anyway. But most times because I am exhausted and weary of riding this infernal hamster wheel of excuses and blame and the victim mentality.
But today I chose fight. I had committed with Stan and then I went and put it on Facebook - as more of an accountability check for me than for anything else.
So we closed ourselves in a room for twenty minutes. I didn't ask questions. I simply showed and stated what I had found. I said that there would be a consequence, but that I was honestly at a loss and that we would need time to think about it. I said that my feelings were hurt that a gift that we had given OK had been treated with such disregard. I reminded OK that I had once learned at a training - and it made good sense to me and helped me in these situations and so I tend to bring it up frequently - that whatever I, as the parent, am feeling, my child is probably feeling that same way. So I said I was feeling confused and lost about what had happened and what to do next. I asked OK if that was true for them. "Yes, I guess so."
And then we talked. It was slow and awkward and halting. We heard that OK was upset about people making fun of them at school. We talked about stupid kids saying stupid things and having no control over that; but the power we have in taking control of how we react. We talked about how people - OK - who suffer severe trauma are stuck with all those thoughts and memories and feelings until they decide to take control and process and move past those hard and horrible things.
These were all things that I had said before. Today OK seemed to hear them, seemed to understand that we say these things because we care. Today there was conversation - just little bits of it - instead of just me talking.
My last question, "I'm going out on a limb here.... would you like a hug?" Was met with OK immediately coming into my arms and then Stan's and saying, "I KNOW you guys love me."
This really happened. It's really never happened before. I am admittedly in a bit of shock. Not quite sure how to proceed, because usually I'd be sitting here writing out my confusion and frustration at how much I don't know how to help or reach OK... and then never posting it because it's embarrassing to put us all out there, and not at all encouraging to families who may be considering foster care or adoption. It doesn't make our family look good.
Thank you to those of you who supported me with that Facebook post. I know you were praying and I want you to know that God heard and answered. I am grateful. I am excited to see if this takes us further along the journey of healing with OK.
This is the end.... for this time....
