Breaking thru Beautifully...

When life happens and all you want to do is cry, come join me on my little adventure...for after all, sometimes, it's just about breaking thru it all....beautifully.

This Journey of Mine

I could never have imagined the pain of motherhood. Pain associated with love, pride, loss, anger, guilt, frustration, sadness, heartbreak….

I started this blog because I needed a way to process; and I process best when I write things out. Lately, I haven’t had time to process, which is probably why I am a mess. Yes, I am a mess of a mom. And I have to think that there are so many other moms out there who feel the same way. Who knows if any of them will ever read this blog, but if some mess of a mom happens to come across this journey of mine, I hope something I’ve shared can help them.

The last post I wrote was in regards to feeling broken as I began a journey of intense therapy with our youngest daughter. Six weeks later…

This week, we took a trip and admitted her to a long term facility to get her the help that she needs. I keep reminding myself that this is the right thing to do. And in my doubt, I remind myself that He is with us on this journey and He has orchestrated this plan.

I remind myself that on the day I broke, He planted the name of this facility right in front of my face.

I remind myself that when I felt guilty and wondered how I could possibly do this, He brought a friend who truly understands all that we are going thru…all the way from Missouri to my doorstep, and gave my husband and I the encouragement to push thru to the light at the end of the tunnel…a light we can’t see yet, but are assured is there.

I remind myself that it is not my fault; it is not her fault; it just is.

I believe that parenting is the hardest thing I have ever done. Parenting a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder is even harder. It is a type of parenting that others truly can never understand unless they have lived with it themselves. The types of destructive behaviors, the struggle, the frustration, the hurt, and exhaustion often times make parents of RAD children seem awful. We know we look like terrible parents to the outside world, and after time, we discover that we cannot “fix” these broken children, and we feel so guilty.

I remember when my friend was going thru what we are now, and thinking, “Can it really be that bad? Surely not? She just needs to allow herself to love these kids thru it.”

And she did.

But it wasn’t easy. It isn’t easy. Loving them thru it sometimes feels impossible. Will they ever understand the magnitude of the love that we feel for them?

How do you fix a broken child?

You love them. You find them help. You realize that even though a mom is supposed to be able to handle it all, fix everything, sometimes you have to let go.

It took years for us to fight it out and bring them home permanently. We thought we had finally won the long battle.

I realize now, the battle has just begun. Yet today, I feel like I have no fight left in me. Just emotion; raw emotion.

I cannot escape the guilt of feeling relief, that today, I can rest assured that there will be no arguing; no sabotage, no destruction, no praying for bedtime to come so that we can start all over tomorrow.

I cannot escape the thoughts that pound in my head; Is she ok? Did she sleep well? Does she feel abandoned?

I remind myself that I have to trust that He is taking care of her. That He has placed caregivers in her path to help her cope, to help her trust, to help her love, to help her accept love; to help her heal. To trust that He will bring her home to us.

And I remind myself that the best I can do for today is to be here for my other children. I can be strong and help them thru this. Help them heal. Help them grow.

And allow myself to heal.

And hopefully, we’ll all be able to break thru all of this… and break thru beautifully.

 

Broken

There’s a song, “Bring the Rain” by Mercy Me. There was a time when I listened to it on a daily basis. It’s funny how a certain song can just be what you need to get you thru.

Today was not an easy day. First of all, it was a Physical Therapy day for me. They are never easy, but I hear it will all be better if I just hang tough.

It was day two of our radical therapy. The idea is to force an attachment. But how do you force someone to attach to you if they just aren’t that interested? Maybe she is; I honestly just don’t know. After yesterday when she realized her outside socialization had been greatly diminished, I received a letter. I’m choosing to see it as her making a positive change rather than manipulation to get what she wants. And yet, I still didn’t do all I was supposed to. I’m supposed to keep her by my side as much as possible. And I tried…but her shower took forever, and her hair took forever and there was never time for our ten minutes of coloring. Instead there was her doing everything possible to delay spending any more than the necessary amount of time with me.

Reactive Attachment Disorder. **sigh**

It’s funny how you believe you can handle anything….and then realize that perhaps, you can’t. You think you’re prepared…and find out you aren’t.

Parenthood is a lot harder than I could have ever dreamed. My son is sick. He hurts. And no one can figure out why. I think if we could just have a reason, then perhaps we could deal. Perhaps we could find some miracle drug to end his suffering once and for all. But we can’t.

Someone said to me today, “I feel broken…”

Yes.

And I’m a fixer. I like to fix things. And yet I can’t…so I’ll just keep trying, one day at a time, and hopefully, I’ll figure out to break thru…beautifully.

Here’s the song I listen to these days…

How?

How? It’s the beginning of a question.

How can I?

How could you?

How can you?

Then there is why.

Why must we?

Why must you?

Why do you?

Suffering. How? Why?

These are the questions I ask myself this week. I shared with someone earlier that the one thing that I cannot handle is watching my children suffer. And when my family gets hit, it is so hard to rebound.

And yet, my son is suffering. And there is nothing-I-can-do-about-it.

We have seen every specialist. We have tried every medication. For an entire year, he suffered from extreme, excruciating pain. I’ve never seen anything like it.

For a whole year, we finally had him almost back to normal.

And then, this past week, he’s back where he was.

Why? Why must he suffer?

How? How can you allow this to happen?

Reactive Attachment Disorder. Otherwise known as RAD. It happens when a child has been so neglected that they cannot form a bond with anyone. And they target the one who is the closest to them. We have a daughter with RAD. And unless you have lived it, you cannot possibly understand what it is like for them…for the person that they target, and for the family that suffers thru it. The stress is unbearable at times.

Why? Why was this allowed to happen?

These are the things that run thru my head this week. We are about to start something radical; hoping it will change.

I will be journaling and trying to get thru it. Hopefully, it may help someone else. Maybe it will help me as I process.

In the meantime, I will continue to pray, and try not to be too upset with Him. I know that He understands suffering; I just don’t understand why it has to be my son; my daughter; my family.

Lord, help us to break thru…and do it beautifully.

Mold Me

His works
But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8

Just when I think that perhaps, just perhaps, I am finally about to lift out of this fog, a new storm rumbles in.

May I just say…”I-AM-SO-TIRED-OF-THE-STRUGGLE.”

I’m tired of my son suffering from a mysterious physical ailment that no team of specialists can seem to figure out.

I’m tired of the struggle of raising a daughter who is a product of the failure of our state system when it comes to protecting it’s children.

I sat and talked for hours with a friend-who-is-more-than-a-sister today. And we both came to one agreement…parenting adult children is harder than parenting babies.

What? 😯

Say it isn’t so!

We’ve both agreed we get less sleep now than when they were babies. Why? Because if we aren’t crying, we are praying for them…or we are crying and praying for them at the same time.

The burden that is placed on the heart of a parent of an adult child is like nothing I have ever experienced. They are adults. They will make their own mistakes. They will fail. They will suffer. They will have to learn things the hard way.

Just like we did when we were their age.

Which is why it is so much harder for us.

Because we have been there. Because we know where it leads and how painful it is. Because we can no longer put a bandaid on it and kiss it and make it feel better. Because we cannot put them in their crib or playpen and stop them from harm. Because we can no longer supervise their play-dates.

And the list goes on and on.

My daughter asked me recently, “What has He done for me?”

It has struck me to the core…that she can even ask such a question. Did I not raise her right? Have I not taught her who she can depend on? That He alone can fill the emptiness if she would just let Him?

And then…my Father reminded me of something.

He is in charge, not me. He has it all under control, not me. He is who I should be focusing on…not me.

And then, He placed this verse in my head.

 “But now, O Lord, you are our Father;

we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8″

Mold me, Lord. Let me be the beautiful works of Your hand.

And let me break thru beautifully…

 

Now that I’m here…

It’s been two weeks since I started this blog. No one has read it. (I haven’t shared it with anyone…)

So, I guess you could say I’m writing to myself.

Life has continued, and so far no more mental breakdown!

Instead, I’ve spent a lot of time working…and thinking…and trying to figure out some things.

Will my job be the end of me?

Will my children ever get their acts together?

Am I asking too much? Too much of them? Of myself?

Last night I lay in my bed, sicker than a dog, just praying for sleep. And of course, my brain went on and on and I started thinking about my daughter and the wedding, and my sons and their issues and my adopted daughter and will she ever accept me.

And then, I just shouted out loud in my head, “God…you really suck right now.”

And of course, I then felt really guilty and expected to be struck down with lightening right then and there.

When that didn’t immediately happen, I found myself asking Him if it was ok that I felt that way. He didn’t really answer me, but I figure He understands me and what is going thru my head, so I’ll just keep on plugging on, one day at a time.

And trying to break thru these ponders of mine…one day at a time…beautifully.

 

 

 

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