Monthly Archives: April 2017

I Think the Emotion is: Hurt

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Confusion. Frustration. Pain. Anger. All emotions I feel way too often regarding my RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder) kid. Today I feel hurt…utter hurt.

Last evening, he rushed into the room and asked if he could go for ice cream with a friend of his.  He seemed surprised when my answer was “yes” and he rushed out the door full of excitement.  We had just spent a couple of hours having dinner and meeting with someone from his Independent Living group discussing how he could earn the right to move from his upstairs bedroom to our basement apartment. All natural steps for this season of transition.

He returned from his trip to the ice cream shop, tossed his empty milkshake cup into the garbage can and gave me a good night hug. He said, “Can you feel me shaking?” and I answered, “Probably too much ice cream.” As he left the room he quoted what he quotes every night as he heads up the stairs:

“Good Night. Sleep Tight. Wake up bright in the morning light to do what’s right with all your might. Good Night. Don’t let the Bedbugs bite.”

I stopped him and told him that he had to mean what he says more often.  “Make good choices; do what’s right.” He went up the stairs and got a bath.  An hour passed and I realized his phone wasn’t in the charging station like it should be.  He is not permitted to have his phone in the bathroom as he has had more than one  phone “fall” in the tub(maybe 8?). (Only RAD parents/therapists would understand this phenomenon of intentionally ruining possessions because you feel you are unworthy of actually owning them.)  Anyhow, his phone was missing.  When I asked him about it, he assured me it was in his pants pocket. It wasn’t.  Must be on the dresser. No. Maybe downstairs? No. Lies, lies, lies.  I calmly suggested that he had it in the tub with him and he said, “I had to call a couple of people because I was in a car accident.”

Yep. He was in a car accident and he returned home and didn’t mention it. Why? Only God knows for sure, but we can speculate.  His mental illness makes him want to handle things all by himself.  His neglect until the age of 22 months makes him think that his parents won’t respond appropriately to his needs. His needs weren’t met when he was a baby, so they probably won’t be met at the age of 18. He doesn’t want parents and he will spend a lifetime proving that to himself and others.

That hurts! Soon we will be attending his graduation ceremony and baccalaureate and we will be sitting next to parents who have tears in their eyes as they think about separating from their children in this phase of life. We, too, will have tears in our eyes as we doubt that there ever was any connection to separate from. We have spent 16 years trying to create a bond and though we’ve had glimpses of hope that it could happen, we’ve seen evidence of the fact that it hasn’t.  We’ve certainly tried.  And, we need to accept that the separation we will be mourning at graduation will be the separation of our dreams from our reality. Even with our best efforts, we have been unable to get our son to trust us. We have been unable to repair the damage created by his first set of parents. We have never been the one he’s called out to in a time of need….and we probably never will.

It hurts. It hurts to realize that I am not alone. There are many hurting parents raising hurting children. Children who may never accept a parent’s love. It hurts. Yet, to those of you who my son has called instead of me when he needed a parent, I thank you. I pray you haven’t judged me or thought that I didn’t want to be the recipient of the call and I continue to pray that you will give him good advice. Thank you for being someone he can trust.disegno-floreale-con-bordi-arricciati_318-45888“Blessed be God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble by the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”                                                                        —     2 Corinthians 1:3-4

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Who Are You Spending the Day With?

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My alarm rings and I hear Hannah Keeley say, “Get Your Butt Outta Bed!” I’ve been listening to her podcasts lately.  As I dress, I put on the scarf that my daughter bought me so she visits me in my mind for a bit.  As I apply my eyeliner, I think of Judy and her teaching me how to use my new eyeliner.  I hear her teaching me, “one slow steady line,” and then I hear her teasing me about being cheap when I worry about wasting some. I apply deodorant and remember the conversation about Susan’s sister-in-law who applies an antiperspirant at bedtime and not first thing in the morning, so I hear Susan’s gentle voice. I greet the family members that are physically here in my home and then I check my text messages to see a video from Nicole, a text from Lori and a missed call from Kevin. When I put my dirty laundry into the washing machine, I think of Susan who recommended this front loader and later I may read a book that Becky recommended, look up a scripture that Kim sent me and think of Kelly and Lori and our plans for our Godly Girls Club on Friday. I notice the way that Linda G. arranged my knick knacks on the table and I laugh when I remember Suzanne and our conversation at lunch yesterday.

You see, even though today I plan to be home alone, I am never alone because of the imprints others have left on my memory and in my life.  All the instruction, recommendations and lessons come to mind as I go about my day. All of the skills I have were taught to me by others and I continue to be encouraged by the “teacher” long after the lesson has been learned.  I am very appreciative of all of those who have taken the time to recommend the best lipstick, given me the easiest recipe for Mac and Cheese or taught me to “Pick up the big stuff so it looks like you cleaned.” Long before Facebook and websites were dedicated to Life hacks, friends shared their wisdom.  Thank you, friends!  I’m glad the memory of you will be with me today.  Now let’s go grab a cup of tea and relax with the book that Becky recommended.  Have a good day!

Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.
                                                          –Deuteronomy 32:2
FYI – Life hack (sometimes written Lifehack) – A real word!
life·hack
ˈlīfˌhak/

noun

informal
  1. a strategy or technique adopted in order to manage one’s time and daily activities in a more efficient way.

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The Good Friday Story

aa0e1ad2d67bf1ce0bd254d3a3601881_is-clipart-sore-feet_301-279Maybe not THE Good Friday story, but definitely in our family, the following story is referred to often.  Paul will say, “Does she know the Good Friday story?” or “You should tell him the Good Friday story.”  It is definitely a story that has survived the years and the telling.

It was a good Friday, the Friday before Easter and my kids had the day off of school. They were 13,11, 9 and Paul was 4.  We didn’t have plans for the day except for my nephew coming to install a new kitchen floor for us so the kids were all in their separate rooms, probably playing a video game of their choosing.  My friend who is a pastor’s wife called and said that our family should join her church family for their cross walk.  Annually this group of worshipers carry a wooden cross through the streets of town to represent Jesus carrying the cross to His crucifixion. Of course, I thought it was a good idea, but my older kids were reluctant to be drug away from their activities.  I nagged at them to remind them of the true reason for the season and that they should thank Jesus that they were out of school for the day.  They were donning their hats, gloves, and coats as I nagged and preached.  It’s what moms do to instill righteous guilt during the Easter season. We arrived at the church complete with somber scowls and bad attitudes. Between taking their turn carrying the cross, they would come to me and whine, “I have snow in my hood.” “My socks are wet.” “My glove has a hole in it and my fingers are cold.”  Each complaint was met with my canned answer. “Jesus suffered a lot more than this, so keep going.” Each time, they came to me with their complaint and I responded with the same answer.  Last but not least, Paul came up to me and quietly said, “Before I say anything, I want you to know something…Jesus was NOT wearing these shoes!!!”  I gasped!  You see, Paul had a physical disability and had received new orthotics the day before. He received these braces that fit inside his shoes with the instructions that he was to wear them for an hour, then take them off for two hours, then try to wear them for another hour and then take a break for two hours until his feet adjusted to wearing them.  I had totally forgotten that he had them on as I whisked him out the door.  The poor kid’s feet were swollen on the bottom and I didn’t carry the cross to the church, but I carried him to the church.  I’m not sure if scripture says what kind of shoes Jesus was wearing that day, I don’t believe any and at that moment, Paul wishes he would’ve been the same.

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