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.

“I want off…”

Unless you have lived with it, you could not possibly begin to understand. And as I type this, I know I have been told numerous times, “I understand.” But really, how could you? How could I even begin to explain what it is like to live with someone who has such a severe mental illness. How can you explain to someone that when you think, “I want off this crazy train?” you actually really mean it, but you know it won’t happen and this is your life, this is the life that is given to you and there is no way out or off…and as bad as it is for you, it doesn’t even begin to compare to the one who is suffering from the illness.

How do you find hope when there is no hope?

I have a daughter who suffers from Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) and Borderline Personality Disorder, as well as anxiety and depression and when it rears its ugly head, let’s throw in some Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD) as well.

It’s not her fault. She didn’t ask for it. She can’t help it. And there are times when she cannot control it. So it is constant work on all of her family to help her thru it.

So what does that look like? It means we monitor her meds closely. And you can’t for a moment think that she can take charge of this herself, although eventually, she’s going to have to in order to function in the adult world.

It means, when she doesn’t want to work and she is in your face screaming at you, you still have to remain calm and not react, and somehow hold her accountable anyway.

It means when she breaks into your most personal things and absolutely has no regard for anyone but herself, because that is truly all she can think about when she is triangulating and spiraling downhill quickly, then YOU have to remember that it isn’t personal, she does love you, and you have to be the bigger person.

It means when she does the same to her siblings, friends, and those who are close to you, you have to help them thru it and remind them that it isn’t personal, and although they have a right to feel the way they do, they somehow need to understand that she can’t help it. That it doesn’t make it ok, but that she is out of control.

It means that when she doesn’t get the reaction that she desperately wants, because you are trying so hard to give her what she desperately needs, she will do anything and everything to get a reaction. She will follow you around and get in your face and go from extreme highs to extreme lows until you are backed into a corner, and for her safety and everyone’s safety in the household, you have no choice but to do the one thing you know will only set her back even further.

It means that you just may have to convince yourself that you are not going crazy. So, you take her to the hospital in hopes of saving her from herself. In hopes of getting her stable enough to try and bring her home and start all over again.

You have a friend drive while you sit in the back with her to keep her safe.

You take her and listen to her beg you not to leave her there; you listen to her cry out because she wants to know if her life is always going to be like this…in and out of hospitals.

You take her and listen to her tell you that she will never be able to trust you.

You watch her “attach” to the friend who is strong enough to go with you in case she bolts and harms herself.

You sit with her for hours, and watch her go from love and fear to hate and defiance.

And then, you watch her walk thru the doors once again, the doors that continue to take her away from you. The doors which you cannot walk thru. You can’t go with her, because for this part, she has go it alone. And you pray that she knows that you would go with her if you could. That you truly never have left her side, even though she feels completely and utterly alone.

And the guilt is almost unbearable, because it’s not that you don’t care; it’s that you have played this game so much, that you are able to allow the numbness to take over temporarily, so that the others don’t see how crushed and broken you are on the inside. And then, you remind yourself, that you are strong. God gave you this beautiful, broken child because He knew you would be strong enough to do what you have to to help her. And that when you are at your weakest, He will give you the strength you need to take one more step.

I will never give up on her; even when she has given up on herself. My beautifully broken daughter.

broken-butterfly

 

 

 

 

RADically changed; Beautifully Broken (Part 2)

The past year had become crazy. I had to step away from the crazy of them and focus on my own family. My own five children. My youngest had been diagnosed with severe food allergies and it was all I could do to find anything that she could eat that wouldn’t make her sick. Between visits to the pediatrician, the Emergency Room, her allergist, etc., it felt like more than I could handle.

Then we had what I call, the literal week from hell.

In a span of one week, I spent four days in the Emergency Room, one in a delivery room, and one at the vet with a dying pet. I had had as much as I could possibly handle. The final straw was my youngest ending up in the ER for the second time that week. She had taken a serious fall into an anthill and split her head open. Badly. Tests, drugs, and 17 staples later, we were finally home.

For the next three weeks, she would not sleep in her own bed. She would wake up screaming in the middle of the night that the ants were all over her and to get them off.

By now, my niece was 14 months old.

And then the unthinkable happened.

It started with a hysterical phone call. She said that they had been fighting and he was higher than he’d ever been. Of course, she denied any drug use. She said he’d pushed her out of a moving truck and had taken off with my niece.

I did the only thing I knew to do; I called the police. I told them the story. I waited.

One of our friends was a police officer. When he saw my name, he came out to speak to me and help in any way that he could.

I was terrified. All I could think about was my niece; but in the back of my head, his words echoed,

“You are going to take her with you and take care of her until I ask you to bring her back. You will not call anyone, or tell anyone anything. You will not try and take her away from me. If you do, I will take your children away from you and kill them all.”

I waited and waited.

Finally, my brother called me. He said the police had been out. That the neighbors had called because of the fighting. The police didn’t do anything.

The next day, I received another phone call. This time, from his jail cell. He was asking me to go pick her up. Said he’d been taken to jail; and that my niece was at the apartment with her alone. He asked me to make the call. So I did.

I met the police at the apartment. I can still see it clearly in my head to this day.

There was no furniture.

There were no beautiful clothes that I had passed on.

There was no food.

There was nothing.

It was dark. There was human feces scattered around on the carpet because one of them refused to use a toilet. It was filthy. Disgusting.

My niece lay asleep on the carpet next to a bottle of curdled milk. Her dirty diaper was sagging. She didn’t even have a blanket. She was filthy. Her hair a mess. Her mom a mess, sobbing that she needed help.

Every stitch of everything they owned had been sold or given away.

The police officer put my niece in an infant car seat; too small for her. I watched, stunned, as her took her away to protective services. I turned around to her mother, and said, “Ok, when is the last time you had any food?”

We went to the store and loaded up on groceries for her for the next week. Next, we went to protective services where we were questioned over and over. I would go through fingerprinting, background checks, etc. Finally, hours later, I was able to see my niece.

I was taken into a room, where she was sitting in a high chair, void of any emotion. I picked her up, walked out, and took her home with me.

How do you comfort the uncomfortable? How do you fix the broken?

How does one help end the suffering?

Fourteen years later…and I’m still trying to figure it out.

broken-butterfly

For more RADically Changed stories:

RADically Changed: Beautifully Broken

Broken

Broken.

It’s how I feel this morning.

Completely broken.

And alone.

Going thru a divorce after being with someone for 24 years is hard. You think you’ll be with them forever and then everything is ripped from your life. But you survive. You move on. You find happiness again in what remains. You stand strong in your faith and you keep on trying.

But this parenting thing. Man, it is H A R D!

And it doesn’t matter what I think, or say, or do, or even how hard I try…some days, I just F A I L.

I cried myself to sleep last night. I haven’t done that in a long, long time. And then I woke up this morning, trying to figure it all out. I think a part of me thought that if I tried hard enough, my adopted children would figure it out. They would finally accept that someone loves them. That someone is there for them. That no matter what life has thrown at them, there are people who are there for them. That they can trust. They can move forward. They can leave the past behind.

And then, their problems would all go away. I could fix what had been broken in them.

And on weeks like this, I am reminded….no, it is thrown in my face, that I haven’t even begun to fix them. I can’t fix them. It doesn’t matter how much therapy they have. How much love is given to them. How hard I try. They are B R O K E N.

They will lie and cheat and take what they want.

Because they are broken. And the fixer of all things cannot fix this. Because it isn’t about me.

My older children reminded me of this while I cried. I guess I have done something right, because they are great encouragers. 🙂

What I can do is lean on Him and remember that I cannot let it break me. When I am weak, He is strong…it doesn’t feel like that so much today.

But I will continue to try. I will not give up on them. And I cannot give up on myself.

To every parent out there who feels like giving up; there is someone out there who feels the same. I truly believe that parenting is the hardest thing we are called to do. But if we are called to be parents of these beautiful children, then parent we must.

This is me, breaking thru beautifully, one step at a time.

 

Hope

As the months have gone by, everything has changed. You can fight change, or you can embrace it.

Control; you can try to control everything, or realize so much of life is out of our control; and then embrace that, too.

How does one react to the circumstances surrounding us? We can fight everything and everyone, or we can work together.

When my youngest daughter was home, everything was a fight. EVERYTHING! We fought over brushing her hair. We fought over doing her homework. We fought over brushing her teeth, taking a shower, leaving things alone if they don’t belong to her. We fought over our relationship, her imaginary relationship with her biological mom; We fought over her need to fight over everything.

I see things differently now. My eyes have been opened. And thru this process of long-term treatment, I’ve learned a few things.

It’s ok to ask for help.

I had to realize that her RAD issues are way bigger than I can handle. Way bigger than I can help her with. I can’t “fix” her, but together, we can seek out others who can help us along the way.

It’s ok to not back down.

When there are issues that need to be faced, it’s ok not to back down. They have to be discussed. They need to be brought out and talked about. It’s hard, but we can not possibly work thru things if we ignore them and let them fester. We can not move past our fears if we do not talk about them and learn how to deal with them; together.

It’s ok to back down.

When some issues are so hard and mentally and physically exhausting, you just can’t deal with it; it’s ok to back down. Bring it back to the table later. Let it go for a few until you are rational and emotionally strong enough to deal with it. Not everything has to be dealt with all at once. There is always more time.

It’s ok to be human.

My children need to know that I am human. That I make mistakes. That I can cry with the best of them and say that life sucks and that we can get thru this life of ours together. When they see the human side of their parents, they learn themselves that it is ok to not have it all together all the time. That’s how we learn. That’s how we grow. That’s how we move forward.

Hope.

We must have hope. Because hope allows us to look forward to the impossible. With hope, we just might be able to break thru it all; beautifully.

Hope-1

 

 

Out of Hiding….

My last post was about wanting to hide. I’d say I’ve managed that pretty well. But I’m realizing eventually, we all have to come out of hiding…and face the giants.

I like my bubble. It’s a nice bubble. It’s safe…and as long as I stay in the bubble the pain can bounce back right off the bubble. But…it’s time to pop the bubble.

The last time I posted, it had just been confirmed that my youngest daughter was sexually assaulted before she came to live with us permanently. In addition, my oldest daughter’s life was falling apart. It was tough. Two days later, my marriage of 23 years fell apart. Just…shriveled up.

The summer seems to be such a blur. I’ve spent most of it speaking to the authorities, counseling with my daughter, going thru a divorce and just trying to hold it together with my other kids; all the while, simply shaking my head in bewilderment as I mumble, “I don’t know why.”

I’ve spent the past few months trying to figure out who I am. Who am I?

I’m no closer to figuring that one out.

I’ve spent the past few months trying to figure out how to help my kids. How can I help them when I barely know how to help myself?

I’ve spent the past few months crying more than I’ve cried in a lifetime. And holding my kids while they cry. And talking, yelling, crying some more, then laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all.

When I started this blog, I thought it’d be all about trying to break thru beautifully with a child who has RAD. I’m discovering it’s more about trying to break thru the challenges that life brings us.

It’s about holding us together when everything else around us is shattered…broken.

It’s about standing strong in the midst of it all, even when your legs feel like jelly and you’re shaking inside.

It’s about discovery. Discovering new relationships with my children as we face each other with raw, abandoned emotion and the ability to love and laugh despite being broken.

Because after all, it’s still about breaking thru; breaking thru it together; beautifully.

 

 

 

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