psychiatry

WORTH IT

Years ago, I judged someone for sending their daughter to boarding school.  The mother told me and I had a reaction.  I admit it.  Her daughter was 16.  

Our daughter Violet has now been gone for just under a year.  When people ask where my daughter is and I tell them, I can see the very same judgment in their eyes, even if it is in silence.  She is 11 years old.  Isn’t life interesting? 

Naivete, judgment, guilt and shame.  Who the hell was I?  Life isn’t always what it seems.  I knew that truth even in my younger years, when I walked with less dirt in my tracks.  I want to be forthcoming in hopes that maybe someone else can hold off on their judgment and spare themselves the guilt.  It is an avoidable burden. 

I feel no need to justify our choices.  In fact, I feel beyond grateful.  Like we have saved our daughter’s life.  Hope is a precious light to find when you have been lost in the miserable dark for a decade.

So what could EVER make it worth it?  How could we EVER send our child away?  SHE WAS 11.  It was so very young.  And, WAS it worth it?  

(this is a little recap for those who are new to our story)

From infancy, Violet waged a war with depression and anxiety, and was losing.  The struggle with adolescent mental health is a real one, just as real as with adults.  It permeates every aspect of your life and strangles every inch of your body and brain.  It is emotional, mental, physical.

11 months before her departure we were living in agony.  All of us.  Have you ever seen a child - a 6 year old, an 8 year old, who just could not control how awful they felt inside?  Violet was crumbling, and there seemed to be no way to pull her out.  Believe me, we tried EVERYTHING.  I truly suffered from half denial, half unhealthy optimism that something would change on its own, with maturity.  No dice. 

The feeling of powerlessness while you watch your child struggle for their own self-love is the most profound suffering I have endured. 

It just kept getting worse.  In our family of 5, the dynamics grew to be hyper dysfunctional – we are still unraveling them.  Furthermore, continuing to watch your child battle every single second for emotional stability becomes absolutely inconceivable.  Desperation struck.

It is like the man stuck in the avalanche who chews his arm off.   I would have done ANYTHING just to know she could have some help and hope.

She went to a Wilderness Therapy Program.  Leaving her there was the hardest thing I have ever done.  She was my first baby.  She was there for 3 months, and we couldn’t see or speak to her, more torture.  In those months, I met parents of teenagers who had JUST STARTED to deal with their issues and many had already been sucked into self medicating, whichever form of my ultimate fears it took: self harm, drugs, promiscuity, rebellion, suicide. 

Violet had just turned 11.  This was the first time I felt like one of the lucky ones.

She graduated.  She was confident, self sufficient, calm.  But what did this really mean for the real world and all of its triggers?

I missed her desperately, still do.  Yet, even with all that she had accomplished, she had not any real time to apply her new strengths, her new tools.  How could we throw her to the wolves without any practice?

Violet needed longer to assimilate.  She needed to be in a place where she was supported, positively reinforced, incentivized and surrounded by peers.  She needed to break the patterns of misinterpretation, self-loathing, reacting.  She needed to become emotionally intelligent.  She needed to learn self-regulation.  If she could do all of that at 11, wouldn’t THAT make it worth it?

She went to therapeutic boarding school and it was not easy.  Ups and downs, major bumps in the road.  Valleys of upset rivaled by mountains of hope.  Ridiculous work and growth for all of us.  Sacrificing proximity to your child at such a young age is gut-wrenching.  Lots of visits, goodbyes, and tears.

Breaking patterns of behavior is just as difficult as kicking drugs.  Not only are the compulsions the same, both stem from the same impetus in MOST cases – lack of self esteem.  Violet was addicted to the dysfunction.  If you are attempting such deep change, you must look at addiction in all its forms to fully comprehend the weight of the task.  Because it is so connected, here are some stats that will sicken you.

·      67% of drug addicts also suffer from depression.

·      After a short-term rehab (28-30 days), 90% of addicts will relapse.

·      61% of those addicts will relapse again within a year.

·      An addict who has been clean for 5 years decreases his relapse rate to 40%. 

So let’s put this into "Violet terms."  Substances aside, she suffered from these mental health ailments.  She basically went to a short-term rehab – Wilderness – which was not 30 days but 90.  The potential relapse has to be similar, so off she went to a boarding school. 

Now it’s Month 11, that’s right, 11. 

What felt like a torture chamber of fluctuating highs and lows took a turn.  We had our first successful visit.  This meant our whole family, together for a long weekend, without any major freak outs.   

It was a local visit near her school and we stayed at an amusement park.  It was structured fun and everyone participated.  We met every morning to remind ourselves of the family goals – Kindness, Respectfulness and First Time Listening.  All 3 of our children (11, 7, 5) started with 25 dollars and 5 would be deducted for not adhering.  They were to use the money for anything they may have wanted from park kitsch to dessert.  Got rid of all bickering over silly asks and saying no.  Pretty awesome to watch how unimportant themed dolls became when their own stipend was on the line.

I watched our daughter.  She wasn’t a different person.  She would still feel the rise of upset.  BUT, she took her space without me asking her to.  She journaled.  She breathed.  She came back to us and was genuinely ready to be functional and healthy.  She was polite, kind, engaged.  She was sweet to her siblings.  She was expressive in an appropriate way.  She didn’t triangulate my husband and me and came to each one of us with her issues.  She was easy.  She was calm.  She was confident.  She was all the good parts of her.

I left that visit feeling totally renewed.  Like I could have swallowed her school therapist whole, I loved her so much.     

Our lives were changing before my eyes.  I was getting my daughter back, our family was healing.  There were no words to express my deep belly-aching joy.

If this was sustainable, even increase-able…would she be happy someday?  Really, truly, happy? 

That would make everything worth it.  Now, you must wonder…HOW was she doing it???

 

ATTACH ME TO YOU

Make me feel safe.  Be my home. 

Hold me close.  Look at me.  Love me.

Do these things so I am not fighting off fear my whole life.  Fear of being hurt.  Fear of being alone.  Fear of surviving.

Please attach me, securely, to you.

Now the real education began.  Violet’s school held a workshop about 3 weeks after we brought her.  I could not believe we got to be with her so soon, I was freaking out.  Seeing her, being with her, I cherished it.  But, I am going to take this entry and focus on what we learned and go back to our experience with Violet later.

We saw her briefly at the school breakfast then went to our class.  Let’s start at the beginning folks!  After all of their material and then lots of personal research, here is my layman version… 

The Attachment Theory

This controversial 1930s study speaks to what real bonding and attachment are about, not just the feeding and providing.  Physical contact and comfort obviously affects child development, but still interesting…

Harry Harlow’s experiment took baby monkeys and he made two “mothers.”  One made with wire and a bottle with milk, the other with no milk but soft blanketing surrounding the wire form.  The monkeys spent 17 hours per day laying on the soft mother and only 1 hour drinking from the wire one.   Now this seems totally cruel to the monkeys and would never be allowed now, still was a huge impetus for BF Skinner and Bowlby’s research on mental health development that influenced psychology in the 50s.

Babies need to feel attached to someone who is consistent, responsive, sensitive, comforting, present.  Darwin would say it is about surviving.  Ainsworth and Bowlby would expound on it with experimental interactions; the “Strange Situation.”  (see links below)

In this case, attachment is defined as “your internal working model of social relationships.”  There are four forms of attachment in this theory – Secure, Insecure, Anxious (Avoidant and Ambivalent), and Disorganized.  Even just the word choices?  I get it.  I want the secure one. 

Easy to say and even easier to understand, here are the ways to achieve it:

·      Nurture

·      Structure

·      Engagement

·      Challenge

I’m a baby.  Hug me so I know you are mine all mine and I am yours all yours.  I will feel loved.

I know when I wake up I will have breakfast.  I know that when you sing that song and give me a bath every night it is time for bed.  I can count on it and that means I am being taken care of. 

I think you love me when you play with me.  You think I am great.  Then I think I am great too.

Ask me to do more things, harder things.  Trust me to try.   You think I can.  Then I think I can.  Then I love you for believing in me.  Then I really, truly CAN.

So that’s the healthy version.  Now imagine a kid who wasn’t cared for this way? 

A baby who was neglected, a kid who was left at the hospital without a safe parent there.  A kid who has lost a parent, only known inconsistency, been abused.  Even less obvious – a kid whose parents argued or were in and out of being stable themselves, divorce.  OF COURSE, it affects your relationships – with others AND yourself, how could it not?  My self-esteem is so tied into how my parents loved me and each other, and so are the patterns of my relationships.   

I was there for Violet.  The two of us were in our own little world, which felt great to me at the time.  I played until I was holding my eyelids open with toothpicks, answered her every wail, held her when my arms were shaking from fatigue.  Still, Violet has an Insecure Attachment.  So what was it?

I was in a bad marriage.  I was sad.  Her bio-dad neglected her.  I was young, inconsistent and had very little structure.  I know Violet’s genetically predisposed frustration tolerance was low but maybe it meant she needed more of all these things?  Some people may have thought me too attentive, so I am confused.  She must not have felt safe, even though I tried my damndest.

Your initial attachment to a primary caregiver casts ripples into your interpersonal dynamics for the rest of your life.

An Insecure Attachment can lead to struggle.  Difficulty trusting relationships, feeling unsafe.  Feeling unlovable and sabotaging.  Fear of vulnerability and getting hurt.  Resorting to something controllable - anger, avoidance, ambivalence.  Fear dominates the landscape.

In another study I found, the doctor quotes, “…usually there is an opportunity to return to a more normal path of development.”  Well, PHEW, thank goodness, dear sir.

This is our job while Vi is at school.  Finding a way to be more structured, consistent, engaged, nurturing, so when she comes back it is already in place.

I began consciously instituting these tools.  Higher expectations, lists of chores for mornings and evenings with incentive programs around them.  Structured alone time with each kid during the week as built-in as the school day.  Engaging activities, time to be together and just love each other.  It isn’t just the feeling of “order;” it also provides us endless opportunities for praise and you can’t beat that. 

With the workshop completed, we spent 2 days with Violet.  We were focused on “success.”  A successful visit meant no disrespect, adhering to the goals we outlined, enjoying each other without frustration.  Tying the workshop info altogether – it was maintaining consistency, having structure, nurturing and having fun.  If we were successful, she would get another visit sooner, perhaps including her siblings.

We avoided technology.  We followed our agreements on bedtime and how many sweets and treats.  Laughed at her jokes and played games.  Listened to her with both ears and eyes.  Held hands, hugged her a lot.  Loved her.  I felt her tethered to me, but not stuck like glue.  Maybe her attachment was healing?

There were a few times when I got nervous.  Felt the old eggshells, saw her angry face creep in.  She did struggle using some of the tools.  She had relaxed a little at school and I worried that there would be a backslide.  I tried to give her a break, it was STILL very new.   

We drove her back to school.  Filled out all the paperwork full of goals and reviews.  On the whole she was successful.  I had to remind myself this was a work-in-progress. 

I hugged her and again, was sad to say goodbye.  She ran off into school smiling and didn’t even look back.

Attachment:  A bond that holds us together, lasting psychological connectedness.

I love my family.  I want our connectedness to last.  I want my kids to go off and explore their worlds and know they have a safe, loving, happy home to come back to. I want to create healthy, secure attachments.  I want Violet and my other kids to have them, and I want to give one to my husband.  And I too want to feel safe enough to be vulnerable and authentic.

Keep me safe.  Look at me.  Love me for who I am. 

Attach me to you, securely, please.

 

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attachment_theory

http://psychology.about.com/od/aindex/g/attachment.htm

http://psychology.about.com/od/loveandattraction/ss/attachmentstyle_4.htm#step-heading

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bowlby

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erikson%27s_stages_of_psychosocial_development

 

 

 

HELLO AND GOODBYE

Once upon a time there was an ancient forest full of wisdom.  There were tall tall trees that almost touched the sky and small small sounds that pulled your ear to the earth.  When you listened very closely, words like whispers came from the very soil that fed the long trunks and branches.  Down by the ground, your limbs were lost among the tangles of roots, where does one begin and one end?  Shhh, listen to the whispers.

There was a little girl.  She crawled on the ground with a heart too heavy to lift.  She knew not how she got there or quite where to go.  Her eyes lifted to the sky.  So so bright and so so far from her place among the knotted, gnarled roots.   

The roots hugged her fragile frame as the whispers grew louder.  She stretched to the branches, dragging her swollen heart along. 

She pulled.  She tried.  She fell.   

Her own limbs were not strong enough to help her find her way.  The roots raised her to reach a new branch.  The whispers pushed her heart along like a wind at her back.  She tried again.

The weight of her burdensome heart lifted with every height higher she climbed.  Stronger she grew, encircled by the old old trees and the rings of time within them. 

One branch, another, she rose to the treetops.  Hope appeared on branches as leaves, flowers bloomed like songs. 

She reached her little arms as high as they could go.  The sun on her face, her heart was now her ally.

The tall tall trees had a bigger voice now.  The girl was full of wisdom and whispers.  She looked down at her breast, where her giant heart lay.  The sun shone down, casting a vivid purple hue.  Plump with hope and courage, the purple heart beamed, weightless.  She sprouted like the wise tree to shine on that day.  Stronger than the violet ray.

 

Violet looked at the breakfast menu as if golden coins were about to spill from it.  After 84 days of oats, peanut butter and lentils, who could blame her?  AND, who has gone to an “all-you-can-eat” southern diner and NOT felt that way?  (joke)

We tried to be aware of not introducing too many harsh things to her system, heeding warnings from Wilderness.  Lots of potential fallout as you re-renter the wild west of the real world. 

84 days of no noise.  No music, no cars, no chatter from passersby.  No phones, no TV.  Can you really imagine 3 months in the deafening silence of the mountains and then how LOUD the world must seem after? 

We were in an adorable mini-city rampant with hippies and hobos.  We took Vi for a little walk and even the sidewalk was too much for her.  She squeezed my hand with a death grip, paranoid about each street person’s glance. 

Lunchtime.  The hostess walked us to the table and I could feel Violet’s hair stand up on her arms.  Cackles from table talkers, clanking of dishes, scoots of chairs - all WAY too much for her.  We hightailed it back in the other direction, leaving the din behind.

Alone in peace at the hotel pool, we drank in the moments with her.  Hello Violet.  Hello little brave girl, so full of pride, who has accomplished so much. 

There was a transition agreement we had all signed, removing any chance for negotiations and potential rub.  We agreed to shop for school, do special bonding activities, eat sushi.  Call her siblings, only check our phones twice per day.  Respect each other, just be together.  AMAZING.

I relished every passing moment.  Her voice, her smile, her smirk.  Her sarcastic humor.  Her sassy, playful, confident attitude.  I just loved her.  I felt like someone had given me my daughter back. 

I had spent years wondering how to find my daughter again.  I would see teensy glimpses of her incredible personality, and then they would vanish, leaving me to wonder if I had created them or they were real?  Now I could see only her positives.  So much so, that it was even harder to know we were leaving.  Three days was not enough time for me to have to say goodbye again. 

Have you ever forced yourself through something knowing if you could just do it, it would be so much better in the end? 

“What is best for your child?  What will help the new behaviors and tools REALLY sink in, to become the new habits?”

While we debated next steps, (home or boarding school) the professionals kept likening the cycle to drug addiction.  As harsh as it sounded, it was the best way to comprehend it.  Let’s make it plain - how long does it take to really quit smoking?  Are you able to still resist when faced with all of the old triggers/temptations?

I have had friends and family members struggle with addiction.  I have ALWAYS thought the idea of any short term rehab was asinine.  You’re telling me someone who has spent YEARS altering their reality is going to embrace a completely different way of living in just 3-12 weeks?  PLEASE PEOPLE.  That’s ridiculous.  And someone should seriously be reimbursing these families who have spent their savings on such a totally improbable fix.  (sidebar)  

My daughter had spent 11 years of her life stuck in these behaviors.  She was addicted to the cycle.  She broke it at Wilderness, but how could she ever be expected to keep it up in the real world with no real practice?  AND be resilient enough to bounce back when it failed?  To not give up?  To try again?

We KNEW that this boarding school was the right choice.  Doesn’t make it any easier to let her go again.  There is a primal thing inside of parents like - I wanted to hug my cub close and keep her with me to save her and protect her.  But I just couldn’t.  The only way I could best help her was to let her go.

I cherished 3 days.  Felt renewed just like she did.  Then we drove her to school. 

When will I see her again, when will I see her again, when will I see her again.  Had to keep reminding myself to stop thinking of the future, to just take each little baby step and live in the moment. 

We pulled up to the beautiful old house, basecamp of school.  Waterfalls, lake, nature.  She was greeted with the warmest “VIOLET!!!”  The sweetest girls ran out, excited to show her around, make her comfy.  We made her bed, helped her unpack her new clothes.  I squeezed her hand a million times.  She met her “Big Sister” who swept her away to make new friends and see all the cool things they would do.    

I can’t tell how I feel about getting better at goodbyes.  I have had to become a goodbye girl. 

Hold your breath.  Push pause on emotions.  Stand up straight.  Smile, hug, turn and walk away.  Think of all the positives.

Hello Hope.  Goodbye Violet.

 

 

 

HEAL AND RECHARGE

There are so many elements of Wilderness that are unexpected, but here is a super positive one.

Violet was admitted on June 20th.  I got home the same afternoon to my two other children, Soleil – 6, and Axul – 4.  I had been so consumed with getting Violet to Wilderness, I don’t even know if I had been giving them attention.  Their sister was such a squeaky wheel and man, she got A LOT of grease.  These are very low maintenance kids and really didn’t demand that much.  Doesn’t mean they didn’t need it; there is a big difference between asking and needing.

“What can a family do while a child is at Wilderness?  First, recharge your batteries – you will need them!  …  This time can be difficult for other members of your family as well.  Oftentimes siblings are very confused – happy their brother or sister is getting help, but also missing him/her.  Take some time to reconnect and give them the time and the attention they deserve.”  - A manual from the program.

Here is where I felt guilt.  TONS of crazy guilt for allowing myself to relax and liking it.  I felt like I was betraying my adoration for my daughter.  But they kept telling me to chill out.  Relax.  Let yourself heal. 

I WAS SHOCKED.  Still am.  Totally stunned by how much of my life had been affected by Violet’s issues.  I can’t even think of how gravely I can present this in words, but EVERYTHING in my life, our lives, had been governed by the anxiety around it.  When you are living it, the downward gradation is so slow, it creeps.  It gets worse and worse, happens more and more frequently.  Then you have a good day and you pretend the bad ones didn’t exist.  Then it gets terrible again and you “can’t believe you are living like this.”  Then you feel resentment, then you feel guilt, then you feel bad for your other kids, then you want to save the first kid, then you can’t stand your husband, then you pity everyone, then more guilt.  It’s crazy making. 

So, now imagine all of that just disappearing.  Just gone. 

I remember feeling a knot in my stomach, a deep inner-diaphragm-under-my-ribcage-knot of tension.  I looked at my phone and it was 2:45 pm.  The time, on any other weekday, that I would begin receiving the slew of texts, messages, screaming fits from Violet as she was on her bus on the way home.  The time when she reappeared into my world after school, facing a babysitter ill-equipped to handle her, complaining about her terrible day.  And the knot happened to me probably every day for 2 months after she left.   Isn’t it crazy how physically our bodies respond?   

We explained very openly where Violet had gone to the other kids.  “We all know Violet was unhappy and needed some help.  She went to a camp where they are going to help her feel better about herself and she won’t be home for a while.”  They seemed to get it.  I know now, that Soleil in particular, experienced major loss.

I was observing them for the first few days and it was just fascinating.  The second day or two, Soleil was antagonizing her brother (which was very rare), and she screamed about something nonsensical and I realized she was re-creating the same tension she had become so used to.  It was now her normal. 

“Girlfriend.  You don’t have to do that ok?  We don’t want to have screaming or feelings like that.  We should just try to relax and be ourselves.  That is what we are trying to fix, so let’s not MAKE it happen, ok?”   

HEAL.  RECHARGE.  These words kept running through my mind.  I could actually sit on our couch and not worry about hearing someone scream.  I spent minutes, maybe even an hour reading without one disruption, everyone playing quietly, happily entertaining themselves.   Went to dinner without having to manage constant entertainment.  Had conversations without crying or interrupting or disrespect.  We laughed together freely.  No one took anyone too seriously. 

I got a glimpse into what family life could be like; what we wanted ours to be.  Loving, peaceful, fun.  I was getting an opportunity to rewrite the wrongs.   And they weren’t Violet’s wrongs, they were all of ours.  

I tried to get over the guilt, got over the stomach knot, and just collapsed into the recharge.  And even though it’s hard to admit it - it was sublimely salubrious.   (awesome word)

 

WILDERNESS - THE HARDEST TIME EVER

“If we choose to place Violet in a Wilderness Program, I can have her placed by next week.”

“Next week???  What???  Noooo, no way.  I am talking like - let her finish out the school year.  Then, we have summer plans like weddings and things that she is IN!  I mean, I have to have her there, these are things that have been planned and she is looking forward to them.  I couldn’t take those away from her.  I will just present it to her like a therapeutic summer camp and she can go after we are back from LA in like 4-6 weeks.” 

“I have had this same conversation and I know it is a lot to think about.  If you really think your daughter needs something like this, you will find you don’t want to wait.  Weddings, vacations, none of those will matter as much as getting your daughter some help.” 

“I can’t think about that sorry, not happening.  I don’t want to NOT have her with us.”

I cried.  Rivers, lakes, oceans of tears that swallowed up the car we were driving home in and floated us back to our apartment.  My husband just held my hand and let me swim in it, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could fix.   

Back to the nest and the anxiety set into my diaphragm - the familiar 3 pm accomplice - as Violet’s bus pulled up.  She entered the house with an angry look on her face, threw her bag down, stomped into her room, slammed the door.  Eye rolls from the babysitter who had picked up the other kids, more stomach-turning anxiety.  Door knock, I walked in to attempt the “5 min alone” we were trying as per the NYU Child Study strategies. 

She turned away from the computer – another screen of distraction – arms crossed, asked me what I want.  “I want to have our 5 minutes honey.  How was your day, you ok?” 

“Terrible.  Everybody hates me.  Miss Ashley hates me, Miss Laura hates me, they all think I’m dumb and you guys hate me too.  I hate that school.”

“I hear you feel that way, but we love you, so maybe you’re not interpreting things the way people mean them babe.  Can we try to focus on something positive?  Like, how about, what you would like to do this weekend?”

“I don’t know.  I know you won’t answer me about summer camp.  I ask you EVERY SINGLE DAY AND YOU DON’T ANSWER ME!  LILLY AND EVERYONE GETS TO GO AND I DON’T AND I HATE YOU FOR DOING THAT TO ME!!!”  Tears from her, while I try to hold mine in as I watch my daughter unravel into her anxiety.

“Vi, I told you, we can talk about that in therapy when we have someone who can help us through all of these emotions you have around it.  It is not a conversation we are going to have now.  Can we please spend our 5 minutes talking about something positive?  What about your music lesson, have you written any more of your song?”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT MY SONG!!!  I HATE YOU GET OUT!!!!  YOU’RE THE WORST MOTHER EVER AND YOU HATE ME SO I HATE YOU!  I am going to leave this stupid house.  I am going to hurt you the way you’re hurting me!  YOU’RE A BITCH AND I HATE YOU!!!”  (screaming)

“You are not allowed to talk to me like that Violet.  Take a deep breath and count to 10.  You must calm down, you will scare everyone.  Do you want a hug?  Here, hug me and squeeze me as hard as you can and get all those feelings out.  Everything is ok.”

“MOMMY HELP ME.  HELP ME!!!!!  My problems are too big.  They have gotten too big and I can’t control them anymore, I NEED YOU TO HELP ME!!!!!  HELLLLP MEEE!!!  …FORGET IT.  GET OUT!!!!!  I HATE YOU!!!!”

Pushed me out of her room and I let the door close. 

I turned to my other kids who sat staring with the babysitter.  I turned, walked to my room where I sat on my bed and just cried into my hands.  Fresh new tears, when I thought my well was dry.  My poor baby.   My heart shattered into a thousand pieces and I just cried. 

Next day school called and told me Violet “needs help now.”  She had spent 2 hours that day in another room screaming and crying with the principal and head clinician trying to calm her down to go back to class, and it was just too much for the staff.  They didn’t want her to finish out the year there because of more negative associations and they cared about her.

The world felt like it was caving in on me – forcing me to choose Wilderness, forcing me to send my daughter away.  My outside brain would say it was best.  My insides thought - I am the only one she really needs and how can I take THAT from her when she is already in such a state of disrepair? 

This has been the hardest time of my life thus far.  The mulling over the decision, the contemplation of what it means in the scheme of our silly summer plans, our new house, our family.  The missing…THE LOSS.

“What will this mean, if we try to place her next week?”

“It means you call the programs, choose one, we work on getting all the paperwork done, you make flights and take her.”

So we did.  This was June 12th.  We planned with the consultant to admit her on June 20th.  We had 6 days until we would tell her, the 18th. 

I spoke to the director of the one we chose.  I spoke to parents ad nauseum.  I sobbed with every single phone call, every single questionnaire, every single address form.  I was living in a weighted cloud of dread that I couldn’t even see through to function in my every day life.  I stopped working.  I could only deal with getting her there. 

My husband, GENIUS, convinced me to tell Violet what was happening while at her therapist the night before we were leaving.  THANK GOD.  She expectedly freaked out, all the things you could have thought of.  She went from dire sobbing to screaming, to throwing things, to soft sadness.  She hated us, she wanted to say goodbye to her friends, she begged and pleaded.  She didn’t understand why we were punishing her, she didn’t know what she could do to make it go away, she was furious, devastated, exhausted. 

We had the other kids stay at my parents’ house so it was just us at home with her.  I packed her bag while she was asleep, crying the whole time.  My alarm went off at 5 am and we got up and went to the airport. 

I spent one night with her at a hotel - it was sad and nice.  She was able to be with me and be present even though we were both scared.  I was trying to be strong but holy smokes – I am a TERRIBLE faker.  Inside I was losing it.  I had to be resolute, there was zero room for any other choice but where we were going.  She asked a lot of questions, and I wasn’t able to answer them.

“I know this is what is happening but I still hate you for doing it.”

“It’s ok to hate me now Vi.  It’s normal.  We will be much happier later, this is hard for all of us.”

I watched her as she slept.  Took her picture.  Hugged her and just let my eyes burn her little sleepy face into my memory, it would be my last one for so long.

The morning of the 20th came, we were planning on spending the morning together.  When we woke up I could see she was anxious.  I asked her if she just wanted to have breakfast and go. 

“I think that would be better Mommy, waiting is just making me more nervous.  Let’s just go.”

We ate and got into the car and went. 

We pulled into the “campsite.”  I signed the contract, left a painfully sized check.  Gave them a bag with only her underwear and bras, a picture of our family that the therapist would hold for her.  Gave her a hug and said goodbye.  Walked through molasses down the dirt road to the car.

I got back into the rental car and drove 2.5 hours to the airport to go home.  The North Carolina intermittent thunderstorms mirrored my angst.  I never knew you could drive and hysterically sob at the same time without crashing.  I just left my little 11 year-old daughter.  That was the hardest thing I have ever done. 

 

As soon as the plane took off, I had my first feeling that things were about to get better.  And they did.