Looking At Behavior Differently

I want to preface this by saying that I am not an expert. I am just an adoptive mama and a teacher of kiddos who come from hard places. I am passionate about being trauma informed and continually reading anything I can get my hands on. My voice is for my teenager who deserves to be understood and for all of the students who have touched my heart walking through my classroom.

My Why

In the first year of a child’s life they learn that they can or cannot trust. When I cry, will you come? When I need you, will you be there? I am hungry, will you feed me? When a child can not trust that their basic needs will be met, it activates a stress response in the brain. When a stress response is activated too frequently, in wreaks havoc on your brain’s ability to regulate things like cortisol, serotonin and noradrenaline leading to problems with decision making, impulsivity, concentration, aggression… I am still learning about and understanding the complexities of our brain, but my point is that this first lesson about trust alters a child’s brain chemistry (and other organ systems). Newer research even shows that trauma can be passed down genetically. My mind was blown when I read about this.

The theory of Transgenerational Trauma is both fascinating and heartbreaking. That little one that I just mentioned, whose primary caregiver ignored his cries, whose boo-boos weren’t kissed and whose hungry tummy wasn’t filled… There is high probability that this infant was born already predispositioned to exhibit trauma response symptoms such as, but not limited to, depression, anxiety, self-destructive behavior and/or suicidal ideation. Between the transgenerational trauma and the toxic stress caused by the current trauma, their brain chemistry is altered. If you look at brain scans comparing a healthy brain to a trauma-impacted brain, it is chilling. Recently, I was reading The Deepest Well by Dr. Nadine Burke Harris. I highly recommend everyone reads this text. One thing she discusses is how toxic stress can alter how our DNA is read and how cells replicate. Again, fascinating but incredibly HEARTBREAKING.

If a child learns that they are responsible for their own safety; they do not learn healthy self-regulation skills. A young child learns regulation skills as their primary caregiver(s) starts by regulating all things, to the gradual release of independence as a child grows. Children who are not in a safe, healthy and loving environment, learn survival strategies. These “strategies” become a child’s toolbox of coping skills. These coping skills manifest into behavior. Behavior is not intentional or deliberate disobedience. It is not manipulation or defiance. Behavior, when rooted in trauma, is really just a whole bunch of coping skills that a child has taught themselves to survive. That behavior (think: survival strategy) is meeting some type of need for the child. Their thought process is more like, “If I am not in control, I WILL die.”

Trust is at the core of every relationship. When the only person in the whole world you trust is yourself, the entire world is a very scary place. Trauma has altered their sense of self, their sense of others and truly their entire identity and worldview. They do not know their value and this impacts what they believe they are capable of and often the lack of motivation to even try. These kids will do well if they are able to. It isn’t about if they simply want to or not.

If we view behavior with this understanding, it may make more sense why the best advice for typically developing children will not work for children with high ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) scores. In fact, traditional parenting and/or behavior management strategies can actually cause further trauma. Trauma caused by an unhealthy relationship with a primary caregiver can be healed with… relationships. Any adult reaction to child behavior (remember: survival strategies) has to put this knowledge first. Any redirection has to be more about the relationship than about compliance. Simply put, the goal cannot simply be compliance.

It all comes back to trust. Building trust is done side-by-side and not in a power struggle. Yes, we want to correct unexpected and/or unsafe behaviors and yes, it is nice to feel respected, but this won’t happen through demanding compliance. You have to remember that this child is having an internal power struggle: Do I trust you or do I trust myself? Do I let you help me or do I help myself?

The very heart of helping children, who come from hard places, is connection. Connection comes from a place of trust, empathy and grace. Correction is leveled at the behavior and not at the child. The child is valued. The child is loved and important and perfectly and wonderfully made. The behavior is a survival strategy that is not working. You cannot break trust, cause a child to question their worth, or cause a child to feel unsafe, and expect compliance. What you will see is a child jumping right back into their survival strategies, typically manifesting into a fight-flight-freeze response. It is way faster for a child’s brain to jump to imploding or exploding than it is for their brain to rationalize and identify cause-and-effect. Through connection, you can work to empower and correct. This requires collaboration (I am a big fan of Ross Greene) with the child and a bond built on trust. This takes time. Connecting with children is not “rewarding the unexpected or unsafe behavior.” Connection is putting the child above the behavior, allowing you to cushion and reduce the impact of stressors. This will allow the child to regulate and be in a place where you can work on correction. This isn’t easy. It is time consuming. It requires a lot of patience and can be exhausting. I try to be so mindful of this and I still mess up.

Remember that safe, stable and nurturing adult relationships are the best antidote to the toxic stress caused by childhood trauma. We are all capable of being that adult. One adult can change the trajectory of a child’s life forever.

Do the best you can until you know better.
Then when you know better,
Do better.

Maya Angelo

Burke Harris, Nadine. The Deepest Well, 2018

Greene, Ross. The Explosive Child, 1998

Purvis, Karen. The Connected Child, 2007

Mother’s Day

Being His Mom

I didn’t know I was fierce. I didn’t know I was brave. I didn’t know I was confident. I didn’t know that I could be comfortable being vulnerable. I didn’t know I could “fail” 500 times and still stand up. I didn’t know just how strong I was. Then, I met a little boy who needed me to be all of those things – and I was. I am.

I didn’t realize the complexities and brokenness of the child welfare system, of mental health care services, and insurance providers. I was naive to the lack of urgency around mental health and medication concerns…even when a child is suicidal. I didn’t know the battles so many face to get the help they or a loved one needs. I didn’t know the frustration. I didn’t know the helplessness. I didn’t know the pain. I didn’t know the immense empathy I would develop for people whose world I didn’t understand. I had no idea the judgement and misconceptions that people would have. Then, I met a little boy who needed me to realize these things. He needed me to know these things. He needed me to fight for these things – and now I do.

I didn’t understand that behavior is a complicated expression of feelings and usually a result of a child not capable, in that moment, of doing better. I didn’t understand that behavior isn’t what it looks like, that it isn’t surface deep. I didn’t realize that children can regress to the age that traumatic events happened and get stuck there emotionally. This is a 16-year-old trying to cope with 4-year-old coping skills. All of the sticker charts, color cards, rewards/consequences in the world aren’t going to fix behavior that is a result of childhood trauma. I thought they should work. My BA, in education, taught me they would work. I didn’t know it wasn’t about “fixing”, it was about healing. Then, I met a little boy who needed me to understand – and now I do.

I didn’t realize that I took the little joys in life for granted. That pausing would teach me that I was letting the beauty of the world pass me by. I didn’t know how to live in the moment. I made too big of a deal out of really unimportant things. I cared too much about what others thought and spent too much time worrying about what others saw, instead of focusing on what I saw. Then, I met a little boy who needed me to slow down, who needed me to choose joy. He needed my perspective and priorities to change – and they have. .

I didn’t know how much saying “yes” to an emergency placement, five years ago, would change the lens in which I see the world. I didn’t know that in caring for this little boy, who has every reason to be angry, that I would be so inspired by his choice of compassion and empathy. Despite everything, he loves big. He inspires me, every single day, to see the good. When he hurts, I hurt, and that part of our journey is difficult on a level that is hard to articulate. However, we can’t live there. We have to fight. We have to choose joy and do what we can in this crazy world to make a difference. I didn’t know this fierce mama. But now I do and I like her.

To that little boy, who opened my eyes, I am grateful for you and for all you have taught me. You are inspiring and amazing and no matter what life throws at you, we have you. We love you. Thank you for choosing me to be your Mom.

Being Her Son

I didn’t know what real love was. The love I knew was materialistic. It was just stuff. Stuff that would sometimes be pawned and disappear. That’s the love I knew. Love that would come and go and wasn’t love at all. Things break. Love doesn’t.

Real love is caring about people, helping them and fighting for them. It is about just being there. Real love is forgiveness and kindness. It is unconditional. I didn’t know that, but now I do.

*He says this is to be continued… He went camping with an equally inspiring friend of his ❤

However, to me, these two paragraphs are powerful and enough. If this is all I teach him- I am content. Every child should know real love.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the other fierce mamas (or dad’s, grandparents, guardians…) out there! May you reflect on all the “real love” in your life and soak up all the small moments. May you find joy each day despite the challenges or hurdles you may face.

Fresh Eyes

We met with a new psychologist today. Actually, we met with TWO psychologists today. The psychologist we visited with had an intern with her. Today was the LAST day of his internship. This appointment, that we wiggled into with short notice, happened today only because of a cancellation. Otherwise, we would be waiting months because that is just the world of mental health services. This mental health world is inferiorating!! Can I get an AMEN?

However, today I feel blessed. Today was the first day, in a long LONG time, that I felt like all of the stars lined up in our favor. I have been telling everyone that I just want a fresh set of eyes on our kiddo. I’ve been hoping and praying for someone to find a missing piece of the puzzle.

I felt like we were gifted with this set of eyes today, fresh from the classroom, with all of the newest research thoroughly studied. And paired with him, a bubbly spitfire of a psychologist, who called herself “a bit neurotic” and 100% engaged my child who HATES talking. She reminded me of the body language I often use as a teacher… not the most “professional” I suppose, but relaxed, comfortable, safe… Her legs were crossed, criss-cross applesauce style, in her office chair. She spoke frequently with her hands which is also me. Her mannerisms were very similar to my own and I think this helped my kiddo calm… it didn’t feel so “serious.”

Fresh eyes + experience= a blessing of a duo.

They zoned right into a MTHFR gene mutation that showed up on a genetic test. They explained that because of this, he may be having a hard time getting full benefits from any of the bazillions of med combinations we have been trying. I need to do more research before I feel comfortable blogging about MTHFR, but I got the following information from NIH…

The MTHFR gene provides instructions for making an enzyme called methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase. This enzyme plays a role in processing amino acids, the building blocks of proteins. Methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase is important for a chemical reaction involving forms of the vitamin folate (also called vitamin B9). Specifically, this enzyme converts a molecule called 5,10-methylenetetrahydrofolate to a molecule called 5-methyltetrahydrofolate. This reaction is required for the multistep process that converts the amino acid homocysteine to another amino acid, methionine. The body uses methionine to make proteins and other important compounds.

They recommended methylfolate, with a loving lecture about how not all brands are equal, and a special kind of vitamin B lozenge. Not the cheapest things on the market (hoping for insurance coverage). They have a few other medication ideas and will be consulting with the rest of our team to help make some decisions. Could this be the missing puzzle piece we have been searching for? Who knows? Time (my biggest enemy) will tell.

Reliving My Childhood

When I found out my mom was pregnant, I had a lot of emotions: excited, scared, unsure, jealous, worried and happy. I was excited to have someone to play with. I had always wanted to get to know my biological little sister. She was born after my mom’s parental rights had been terminated. When she was removed from my bio mom’s care, she wasn’t placed with my grandparents, where I was living. She was adopted by another family before I was removed.  I looked forward to being a big brother to this little baby, but it was also scary because babies need a lot of attention and I didn’t know if it would take away from me. I was scared that I would be ignored, like I had been most of my life. I didn’t know if this baby would like me or have any desire to hangout with me. I was kinda jealous because I wished that I was biologically Bryan and Robin’s. Then I wouldn’t have had any trauma and would have had a happy childhood. I was worried they would love the new baby more because of biology. I was also really happy for my mom and dad because they were happy and that made me happy. My emotions were all over the place and pretty confusing.

Fast-forward

All my worries were silly because Luca is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Playing with him is awesome. Getting to know him is awesome. It is fun because he is silly which helps me be silly. He has this huge imagination and I never had an imagination growing up. No one ever encouraged me to have an imagination and no one ever played with me. I wish I had different experiences as a little kid but I kind of get to relive my childhood through my little brother.

I can fill voids from my childhood, like going to the children’s museum and going to the splash pad. I can play with Playdoh, build with blocks and spin in circles. I would feel a little odd doing those things by myself, as an almost 16 year old, but It isn’t “weird” to take my little brother to do or play those things.

There were things I always wanted as a kid like construction vehicle toys. I never had any Tonka trucks or anything that scooped dirt. It may sound silly but It’s been pretty cool to play with them with my little brother.

It is so amazing that Luca loves to be around me and loves to spend time with me. He wants to drum like me, wear hats like me… Luca makes me happy because he is pretty much always happy. He smiles and laughs and says ridiculous things that are hysterical. I love his hugs and that he wants to play all of the time. It makes me feel special that he looks up to me and wants to be like me. It makes me feel important and needed. Often when I am really struggling, I think about him and how I want to be here to watch him grow up and how I want to be the best brother to him that I can. I also feel like I will be a better dad one day because I have seen what it looks like to take care of a baby/child in a healthy way vs. what I experienced. I get to be like a two-year-old Jasiah with Luca, which kinda heals and replaces bad memories. The memories don’t exactly go away, thanks PTSD, but it corrects what I used to think was normal. Now I know I am equally loved and that is pretty incredible.

Mindfulness

I always dreamed of what it would be like to be a mom. I had this whole fairytale planned out in vivid detail of what life would be like. We never write any challenges into these dreams. Rainbows and magic. It is almost like I’ve had to grieve what I thought parenthood would be like and learn to embrace the story that we are writing now. It isn’t a bad story. It is full of love, grace, faith, hope, and strength.

Days can be overwhelmingly hard. It would be easy to throw my hands in the air and wallow in the unfairness of everything. Easy to be engulfed in the anxiety that fear causes. Easy to find fuel to burn all bits of confidence. Easy to talk to myself in such negative and hateful ways. Easy.

You know what is hard – not doing those things. Happiness is a choice. It is intentional. I have learned to be more mindful and aware. Mindfulness takes practice. I notice the small moments of joy between the chaos that is sometimes our reality. Okay – often our reality. I take the time to thank God for these moments. Happiness lives there. I give myself permission to pause. I smile. I laugh. I breathe. I experience what is in front of me without muddying it up with what happened this morning, a few minutes ago or worries about what might happen next.

The bond between my boys is the rainbows and magic from my dreams. It is both joyful and healing. On days deep in crisis, I focus on the love between them. Watching them together fills me with hope. If you have been around them, together, you know exactly what I am talking about. I truly believe that the depth of their connection is rare.

This same day, we were deep in crisis, but I remember this moment with more clarity and value than the rest of the day. This moment brought me joy. This moment brought me happiness and hope.

The Start of Our Journey

Moving in with My Teacher

When I first moved in, it was really scary and pretty weird. You never think you are going to go live at your teacher’s house. She was a really fun teacher, but it was still weird. Really weird.

It might sound strange because it was such an unhealthy environment, but I wanted to stay at my grandparent’s. Even though it was not good, it was all I knew and it was my home. I was used to it and it was my normal.

I cried a lot at first because I didn’t really understand what was happening. I had none of my stuff. Nothing. I had the clothes I was wearing. Isn’t that sad? That’s how foster care is, though…

But, then, I had so much fun the first night. My mom took me to the grocery store and let me pick out whatever I wanted to have for food in the house. I got to get all of my favorite things. I don’t think she said “no” to anything. We came home, and she let me have some of my best friends come over. I hadn’t had friends over to my grandparents in sooooo long because my grandparents were scared my friends would report stuff. Sad, huh? All of that made me feel like I could trust Robin and Bryan because they were trying to be helpful and make me feel calm and safe. I felt calm and safe. Robin took me to pick out sheets and a blanket for my bed. That was pretty cool. A few days later, I got some things for my room and some things that could be mine. I got clothes and stuff, too, that I got to pick out.

It was helpful to have lots of hugs because it made me feel safe. My mom would actually rock me and read me stories. Now I know this is called “Attachment Parenting.” It might sound weird but it was awesome and I liked it because it made me feel like our relationship was getting bigger and stronger. I felt like I could trust my mom. Trust was hard but she made me feel safe. I never had things like this before. We also played tons of board games and that was so much fun. Lots of people gave us games. Thank you! I never really had anyone to play games with me before… adults anyway.

Things were good, but I still got really upset sometimes and missed my grandparents. I wanted to go home. In the beginning, I thought it would be temporary and I would go back to my grandparents’ house. I hoped things would get better at my grandparents’ house. I hoped that my grandma would get help. I had been abandoned by my biological mom and dad already. Was I really going to lose more people?

After a little while, I still wanted to go back home but then I also started to think about how maybe life would be better this way. Then the idea of going back to my grandparents’ house is what became scarier. My thoughts kinda went back and forth like that for a long time. At some point, before I found out I was going to be adopted, I knew that all I wanted was to be adopted. I’m going to share my adoption video. I think that will show you how happy I was when I found out that it was REALLY going to happen.

My advice to foster parents is to get your foster kids things that can be theirs and things that won’t be taken away. Let them pick out food they like and blankets and things that they like because it is scary and those things are helpful and comforting. It is also helpful to have friends over if that is possible. Play a lot because it is a good distraction and builds relationships.

https://youtu.be/EtVjhckpnEc

Becoming a Mom

I can’t share this story without acknowledging that we took in two boys and only adopted one. I hate typing that. I’m tearing up just putting these words out there. I love these boys. Both of them. So does my husband. I know the judgment. I have felt it. What about this child? I know.

I promised to be vulnerable.

I can’t share all of the details. They might shine more light onto why we had a failed placement, but they might hurt him and I am not willing to do that. Failed placements are a significant problem in the foster system. Failed adoptions, too. Foster parents quickly close their doors to more placements. It isn’t the children. It is the system.

We fostered our son’s older brother for about a year and for complicated reasons, it was tragically a failed placement. I don’t say that lightly and I’m not being dramatic. It was tragic and the system beyond failed us. They failed him. It is something that I still struggle with, but now that I am a bit removed from it, I can forgive and give grace. Every individual person had good intentions and I believe, truly, did the best they could with what they knew and within the square box, they were working in. It wasn’t any one person’s fault. Caseloads are too big. Resources are too sparse. The mental health of children is not prioritized, taken seriously or invested in. It is totally and completely dysfunctional.

My husband and I had to advocate until we just about risked losing the boys. It felt like every time we advocated for their best interest, we were irrationally scrutinized by the department. We were often told, “That service isn’t available.” Guess what? Those services were very much available. I would love for someone to explain to me why our family wasn’t worth the investment in these services. Our son’s older brother received everything that we had asked for-later. I suppose he just didn’t qualify for them yet? Everyone failed him. Intervention needs to happen sooner.

Complex trauma is… surprise… COMPLEX. It makes me want to bang my head against the wall when I think about how the 10-14 years of trauma, abuse, and neglect these boys endured was ignored. They experienced things no children should ever witness or be subjected to, but were just magically totally fine! We just sucked at parenting. Rocket science. It isn’t personal. They saw it from the lens in which they were looking; A very foggy lens. There should be a bigger investment in teaming with foster parents.

We finally, to pacify, had a parenting specialist, hired by the state, come into our home to “work” with us and basically evaluate our parenting. I am not saying that we had nothing to learn. We are still learning every single day. Children with complex trauma have big emotions and big behaviors. Their brains are wired differently. They have to be parented differently and that is a learning curve. However, the source of foster children’s behavior is not a parenting skill deficit of the foster parents. By all means, provide more education for foster parents and give them advice and research. All of this is important, but it is only one leg of the stool.

This sweet lady, who I am glad I got to meet, took the time to get to know us. Long story short, she wrote a letter explaining to the department and the court system that this wasn’t a parenting issue and she gave her recommendations. She urged for a psych evaluation and mental health support. The department ignored it… the person THEY hired. They continued to blame our parenting. Easier? More cost-effective? Who knows…

Jasiah’s brother was placed elsewhere. We prayed this was temporary and that the department could provide support so that we could safely reintegrate him back into our home. We were given an ultimatum, by the state, that made no sense. For lack of a more articulate way to put it, we were basically forced to stop trying.

This is the part of our story that brings me emense guilt. I struggle to not fixate on the what if questions.

Rewind about a year…

My husband was in a mentoring program for at-risk youth and got to know Jasiah’s brother this way. Over time, I got to know him, too. As we started to sense that things weren’t going so great at home for the boys, we started to include Jasiah. At this time, Jasiah was also in my 4th-grade class.

I was going to make spaghetti, their favorite, so invited them over for dinner. I’m not sure why, but on this particular evening, I got out fancy dishes and we ate in the formal dining room, which we usually didn’t do. We sat at the table a lot longer than normal and the boys were asking a lot of hypothetical questions. They were talking a million miles a minute. Red flags were flying out of their mouths. There wasn’t a specific disclosure at this point to report but we had been in contact with the caseworker because there was an open investigation. I think we sent an email about our gut feelings. We laid in bed that night foreseeing what was going to happen next and talking about what we were going to do. We already deeply cared about these boys and we felt God’s voice telling us to open our arms. We listened.

The next day, Jasiah’s brother got a hold of Bryan and spewed specific disclosures. As Bryan drove over to their house, I called the emergency line to see what we could legally do at that moment. The boys came over and a caseworker came to our house to do an emergency walkthrough. At this point, we had them overnight. This night was spent just trying to distract the boys and get them laughing and feeling like kids. We had some of their friends over, let them play video games and we stocked up on their favorite food.

The next morning, we had the legal documentation needed to keep them until Monday. Monday morning, we were asked if we could be a temporary placement for the boys. It wasn’t long before this became a long term placement. It all felt like life running on fast-forward. At the time, we were not licensed foster parents. We were able to be a placement for the boys because we had prior relationships with them. It was more of a kinship placement even though we were not related. Eventually, we went through the licensing process and became a foster-to-adopt placement.

At first, it was a honeymoon phase. It felt like we were playing house. The boys’ emotions were a bit up and down but there weren’t any big behaviors…yet. We were going through the motions and getting used to our new normal.

PTSD

What it feels like for him:

It is annoying! It feels like I am different from everyone I know. It does not feel like I am the same as other kids and often feels like no one understands me. It´s lonely to not feel understood. It is hard to explain this to others but I am going to try.

When I am triggered, it feels like I am reliving the terrible memory. Like I might as well just be back there because that is how it feels. It is crazy real! My mind gets stuck in the past and I can´t get out. The best way I can describe it is like VR. I can see it happening all over again. I can hear it. I can smell it.

I hide, usually in my closet or some uncomfortably tight corner behind furniture or something. I am aware that this is kind of ridiculous. I do it because I try to run from the memories. It doesn´t actually help anything but I just keep doing it anyway (his facial expression here was priceless). It makes sense if you really think about it. It is a habit because in my childhood when there was abuse or screaming or whatever terrible thing was going on, I would hide and it actually helped me. It worked then. It protected me. Because the memory feels so real, my mind thinks that hiding is going to help again. I hide. Only now, it doesn´t help, because life doesn’t actually suck anymore. I forget that it doesn´t help because I ¨lose my head.¨ My therapist says, “you lose your head and you can´t rationalize.¨ You aren´t using the front part of your brain where you can think and problem solve. In short, my mind says ¨run¨ and then… I do. I run by hiding.

If I am mad, I want to hit things; not people, just things. I want to break things. Stupid things. Weak things. Often I break cardboard and tear apart plastic. It makes me feel strong or something. My brain is just like ¨break something¨ and I am like ¨okay brain¨ and I do it.

This movie, on repeat, plays over AND over AND over AND over again. I get to a point where I just want to die to make it stop. My mind feels like it would just be so much easier to not be here. Crisis.

My mind is complicated. PTSD is complicated.

Sometimes I like help and sometimes it makes it worse. It is random, so it is really hard for my parents or my crisis team. When I am triggered, I am stuck in the past. The past feels like reality, even though it is not. Since I am in the past, in my head, I can not talk in the real reality. I am not really able to listen to what people are saying, so I shrug or ignore everyone. It makes it impossible to tell people what I need and everyone just wants me to tell them what I need. How much I can communicate all depends how deep I am in the memory. I guess to everyone else it looks like I am pretending to sleep or frozen or just ignoring them.

When I am deep in one of these PTSD episodes, it feels like I am going crazy because I just can not be rational. It is so frustrating.

When I am being rational and living in the current moment, I know life is worth living and I really do want to be here. I try to think about my little brother. That is what helps me the most to get back to reality. I want to see him grow up and be here for him. He is amazing! Or drumming. Drumming is my outlet. When I am not triggered, I can understand all of this and think rationally and then I just want to help other people like me.

You aren’t alone.

What it feels like for me:

Secondary trauma or vicarious trauma. You are at a greater risk for this if you are a therapist, social worker, first responder, work in the medical field, or are a primary caregiver. Basically, I take on some of my child´s trauma for myself. And for me, in a real way, I have PTSD about my child´s PTSD. It is mainly his struggle with suicidal ideation that makes me feel this sense of hyper-alertness all. of. the. time. I am always watching for his signs of distress. I am his mom. I have this primal instinct to keep my children safe. For a while, the sound of a text message, which has been turned off, would make my stomach hurt and my heart race, out of fear that it would be my child in crisis. If he is slumped over on the couch because he is a teenager, who is growing, and is simply exhausted or bored, I can feel my heart beat a little faster and my mind starts jumping to conclusions. I have to pause to be mindful and remind myself that I don´t need to have this sense of paranoia that he is heading into crisis every time he looks unhappy. Mindfulness. Breathing, Prayer.

About a year ago, we had to check our sweet boy into an inpatient facility. It was the only bed available in Washington and it was two hours away from our home (more on this another time). For me, this is when my mental health was really impacted by all of this. Parenting a child who is suicidal is scary. It feels isolating. It is often not taken seriously. I feel helpless because there is nothing I can do to take the pain away for him and as his mom, that is what I want to do more than anything. I just want to erase everything that hurts him. The hardest thing I have had to do is accept that this is not something within my control. I cannot guarantee he is going to be okay. I can do my best to keep him safe, organize therapy and services, and love him unconditionally, but I cannot own it and I cannot make it go away.

In the text Transforming the Pain, Saakvitne and Pearlman (1996) list the signs and symptoms of secondary trauma in three categories. Here is the list, and to help my kiddo break the stigma of mental health, I will be transparent. I have bolded what I experience(d). (I copied this list from tendacadamy.ca)

Physical Warning Signs

  • Exhaustion
  • Insomnia
  • Headaches
  • Increased susceptibility to illness
  • Sore back and neck
  • Irritable bowel, GI distress
  • Rashes, breakouts
  • Grinding your teeth at night
  • Heart palpitations
  • Hypochondria (The opposite for me, I ignore everything until I’m a hot mess)

Behavioural Signs

  • Increased use of alcohol and drugs
  • Anger and Irritability at home and/or at work
  • Avoidance of clients/patients
  • Watching excessive amounts of TV/Netflix at night
  • Consuming high trauma media as entertainment
  • Not returning phone calls at work and/or at home
  • Avoiding colleagues and staff gatherings
  • Avoiding social events
  • Impaired ability to make decisions
  • Feeling helpless when hearing a difficult client story
  • Impostor syndrome – feeling unskilled in your job
  • Problems in personal relationships
  • Difficulty with sex and intimacy due to trauma exposure at work
  • Thinking about quitting your job (not always a bad idea by the way!)
  • Compromised care for clients/patients
  • Engaging in frequent negative gossip/venting at work
  • Impaired appetite or binge eating

Emotional/Psychological Signs

  • Emotional exhaustion
  • Negative self-image
  • Depression
  • Increased anxiety
  • Difficulty sleeping
  • Impaired appetite or binge eating
  • Feelings of hopelessness
  • Guilt
  • Reduced ability to feel sympathy and empathy towards clients or family/friends
  • Cynicism at work
  • Anger at work
  • Resentment of demands being put on you at work and/or at home
  • Dread of working with certain clients/patients/certain case files
  • Diminished sense of enjoyment/career(i.e., low compassion satisfaction)
  • Depersonalization – spacing out during work or the drive home
  • Disruption of world view/heightened anxiety or irrational fears
  • Intrusive imagery (You can read an excellent description of this in Eric Gentry’s Crucible of Transformation article).
  • Hypersensitivity to emotionally charged stimuli
  • Insensitivity to emotional material/numbing
  • Difficulty separating personal and professional lives
  • Failure to nurture and develop non-work related aspects of life
  • Suicidal thoughts

Now what…

I will admit my naivety in the beginning. My thought process at the time of fostering was: He needs a healthy environment. He needs consistency. He needs love and nurture and connection… And everything will be fine.

Try again mama. Yes, all of this is important and critical in the healing process, but love is just not enough.

Therapy. Lots of it. EMDR seems to be the best fit for my son. Time is a big component and the HARDEST part. His therapist says that right now, in a way, we are “buying time.” Time to heal, mature, process…. We have a crisis team, a crisis plan that is revised regularly, and a growing village of amazing people. We play, what I call, “the medication game”, which I hate (maybe another post). Plan B parenting (Ross Greene) has been the most successful. We cannot parent him how we were parented. Trauma has wired his brain differently. I have heard, “you are doing everything” and have been praised by therapists and various people in our lives numerous times. While you want to hear that you are doing the “right” things and the praise should feel good, you also kinda hope you are doing something wrong. So that YOU can fix it. There is nothing for me to fix. There is no magic wand, but I will keep looking for it. We are constantly reading and researching. Above everything else, A ton of prayers and leaning on our faith.

I have become a much stronger person through all this, I have grown stronger in my faith and I have learned to savor the moments that are easy to take for granted. I am really grateful for this. You can find joy even in the hardest day.

As we work on breaking free from complex trauma, our family has learned to focus on the joy. That part is a gift.

Beginning here…

I have thought about starting a blog for a while. A space to breath and articulate my thoughts. However, much of what I want to write about is not my story, alone, to share. Our oldest moved into our home, the year he was in my fourth grade class, around spring break. At the end of his fifth grade school year, we were able to finalize his adoption. He is a freshman in High School now. Parenting him is full of joy, but it is also full of all of the challenges that come with ten years of trauma. This tends to find a way into my writing. My heart is so connected to his. I can´t publish things so personal to him. I pushed the pause button on this idea. 

Over the last year, my son has been voicing a desire to reach out to others, to share his story, to help, to end the stigma of mental health… and has been asking for ways to do this. He recently raised over $500 for a nonprofit in our state, trying to make a difference for foster youth and their foster families. This child of mine, he is compassionate and inspiring. He loves Jesus. He is a world changer. He wants his story to help someone. He wants to turn his pain into something good. 

So, here we are, my son and I, TOGETHER, after a particularly challenging day, deciding that maybe this blog is where we begin. 

He will help write or approve of anything posted to this blog. Therefore, if questions are not answered, it is because he isn´t ready to. He will lead the way. We aren´t sure what will come of this, but it will be our little spot on the internet, sharing our thoughts, experiences, joy, struggles and triumphs, as we break free from complex trauma. 

It is not you against this child. It is YOU AND THIS CHILD against this child´s history. It is not a personal attack on you — Dr. Karyn Purvis