Finding words for the pain

Saturday night was ... interesting.

One of my children was communicating, but without words. Their bedrooms are their space, and they can do what they want in there. So, they were throwing shoes and slamming things into the walls. We carried on with life for awhile.

They opened their door to set off the door alarm.

I hate that she lives with such fear. Hate it.

So, we politely let her know she could hang out on the porch until she could safely and respectfully rejoin the house. Then that became a stand off. She wanted a sleeping bag to stay out there. We finally insisted she come in when a terrible lightning storm started rolling through. The next morning we discovered the front bushes had been smashed to smithereens.

I love new days. I love a fresh start. I love sleep and what it can do for your body and perspective.

Grabbed my coffee. Walked into my child's room. Said good morning. Plopped myself on a milk crate (which is normally used to hold shoes, but all the shoes had been catapulted 24 hours previously). "Wow. You have got some big feelings going on. Let's break it down."

There was still LOTS of resistance. I hope many of you out there can be helped by this. My child has been able to verbalize much more, and has taught me something through these moments. You see, even when they know they love us, know we love them, know they can and do have some trust for us, know they're tired of the fight and really don't care anymore ... well, they still keep it up because ... well ... if they do the right thing then we are happy. We win.

Their brains are so trained in self-preservation. Even when healing starts to occur, and they ARE attaching, their default still tells them to take care of themselves first. They must "win." Life is a contest, and losing could be deadly.

We had a conversation we have had before. We will have it again. Probably a lot.

I'll be writing more on Bruce Perry's new book in the future (The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog), and yes, I will be driving you crazy talking about it. For now let me leave you with a quote:

"I also cannot emphasize enough how important routine and repetition are to recovery. The brain changes in response to patterned, repetitive experiences: the more you repeat something, the more ingrained it becomes. This means that, because it takes time to accumulate repetitions, recovery takes time and patience is called for as these repetitions continue. The longer the period of trauma, or the more extreme the trauma, the greater the number of repetitions required to regain balance."

Does it drive me insane when we have to rewind and replay these conversations and truths over and over and over again? Abso-friggin-lutely. If I had a nickel for every time I bang my head against the wall ...

Yet, I'll keep doing it. I'll pace myself. I'll share the load with my husband and family. I will model kindness and gentleness. I'll wake up every morning and pour myself another cup of coffee and I'll rewind and replay the same truth over and over and over again.

And I will buy extra band-aids for all the head banging.