repair

INTERVIEW WITH VIOLET

“Hey Vi, remember when we made that interview for that Mom who was about to send her son to Wilderness?” 

The one thing I really wished while we were in the throes of the Wilderness decision was that I could have spoken to a kid who had been through it.  I wanted the reassurance the kid had survived, felt OK about it, still loved the parents.  No one could give that to me. 

I was referred to a parent who helped me through our decision making process.   She checked in on me, emailed me, called and texted me.  She didn’t know me.  She would anticipate moments and send me a little note.  Even just, “How ya doin?” completely slayed me with its thoughtfulness.  This was the most incredible reinforcement for what a ‘kind’ person really is.  I SO wanted to be that for someone else.

I got a call from a great friend who asked if I could speak to a mom who had mentioned Wilderness.  I was actually excited.  I could not WAIT to be helpful.

The mom and I spoke, we cried.  I knew JUST what she was feeling.  I could actually hear her saying the EXACT same things I had said before.  “Well, we were thinking we would send him after school is over…” I mean, verbatim!  It was so bizarre. 

The wound was so shockingly open.  I could not believe how deeply I felt what she was going through. 

Violet was home for the holidays and I tentatively asked her if she would talk to this mom.  She agreed.  Then, I decided I should just talk to her and record it.  SHE WAS AMAZING.

“It has helped me through tough times…I say to myself - you know what - this is the old me and I don’t have to do this…even though my brother and sister and my mom and dad don’t really have the same problems or the same things they needed to work on that I have?  They still have changed a lot from the program…”  (Violet)

Well, now?  I have been feeling rather stuck here.  I wussed out on asking my daughter about posting this interview for the past couple of weeks.  I was too worried she would say no.  She literally asks me IN THE INTERVIEW if I would “close my ears,” so I really wasn’t sure she would be comfy with it being published.  I have paranoia about exposing her too much.  FINALLY, I asked.

“...I keep listening to the interview, Vi.  I’ve sent it to some other moms who have reached out to me.  You did such an incredible job talking about hard things.  I really feel like it would be helpful for some people to hear.  I thought maybe I could edit some and pull things out and I just wanted to ask you if you would be ok with a few things being posted on the blog.”

Silence.  Dreading her answer…

“Well, Mom, if you think it could be helpful you can put it all on there, I don’t care.”

OMG what.  Have you really evolved this much my little darling?  Have you matured so much that your vulnerable words and feelings and expressions are safe to share?  I am floored once again by your growth.  And grateful, so so grateful.

She was 11 when we made this.  Violet has always been verbal, but never would have been able to talk about her emotions like this before.  I am blown away every time I hear it.  Most adults are not this vulnerable.

So here we are.  THE INTERVIEW.  Ignore the windshield wipers, the nervous sound in my voice.  Nothing is rehearsed.  I didn’t even think of questions before we started.  We were just talking. 

Full disclosure, this was a 20 minute conversation.  My friend helped edit some of the superfluous things out so you can make it to the end, which is when I had to “close my ears.”  ENJOY, and share if you wanna.





HOME SHE CAME

Our 11-year-old daughter had not been home for 186 days.  Never in a million years would I have believed anyone who told me she would be gone for this long.  Never.

The professionals thought she was ready.  I had waited 6.2 months to have our family back together in our own house.  So, home she came.  

“…And this presupposes the human capacity to creatively turn life’s negative aspects into something positive or constructive…human potential at its best always allows for…turning suffering into a human achievement and accomplishment; deriving from guilt the opportunity to change oneself for the better; and deriving from life’s transitoriness an incentive to take responsible action.”  Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search For Meaning.

This ordeal is replete with ups and downs.  Committed to optimism, I will try to see opportunities in the negatives.  I will acknowledge errors, change and adapt, turn guilt into an occasion for betterment.  There are beauties of life that are borne from this struggle, for each one of us.

2 Days Until Christmas

For years we have spent the days leading up to Christmas at my in-laws.  Violet wanted to go straight there and be included in the routine.  I listened to her, instead of my instincts.  The kid had not been HOME in 6.2 months, it clearly would have been better to let her reset at home first. 

My husband and I met her plane and squeezed the life out of her, overjoyed to have her in our eyes and arms.  We drove to the in-laws, where the other children and family were.  Within minutes of getting into the car, she was asleep.  My normal “mom alert” for emotional overload, I realized our error.  Adoration for them aside, this meant she had to immediately deal with more familial personalities than she had faced for 6 months.  I didn’t even THINK about how stressful it would be to have questions about where she had been and what it was like.  UGH.  Dumb Mommy.

We celebrated, did presents.  Watching her navigate the complete immersion gave me guilt.  She looked drained.  I took her a few times to another room to have an alone check-in.  She held it together; she did pretty well.  She only needed to make it through the night.   

Christmas Eve

We left that morning.  FINALLY, we were taking our little girl home.

She was ecstatic.  She bolted up the stairs, laid in her bed.  Soleil, Ax and Violet all giggled and played, so happy to be together again. 

Holidays for us feel magical.  They aren’t about religion.  They are traditions and family.  Our tree was so tall and beautiful.  Presents piled underneath.  Glowing lights, Bing Crosby, pine tree smells and comfort food.  No sleep the night before.  Frost outside, insides warm.  Loved it.  Easily one of my favorite times of year.

Our family friends came for a Christmas Eve pajama throw down.  Again, love for them aside, it was asking her to manage more dynamics.  Not bad, just effortful. 

My husband had ordered our family matching onesies, with nicknames he called everyone, sewn on.  As he unveiled them, Violet’s eyes lit up from the affection of the familiar name.  Her most desired love, affirmed in a single gesture.

We all ran, excited to put them on and laugh at each other. 

Violet’s pajamas were too small

She was the only one whose didn’t fit.  I panicked and tried to make light, “No big deal honey, you’re not a kid size anymore, you need women’s!  Take mine.”  She cried.  To a girl who was already self-conscious, this was traumatic.  The sweet moment, contaminated.

 The Big Deal with Little T Traumas: Trauma is just that - more than mind and body can bear without causing disruption in our lives.  Big “T”s are the obvious – accidents, death, divorce.  The Little “T”s are relative. (see link)

For Violet, it was pretty much anything that eroded her feelings of self worth – a look from someone without a smile, not being the best at something, feeling different.  All related to personal issues and tolerance levels. 

And here, the struggle began.

Violet was who she was.  She WAS going to interpret smaller incidents as overwhelming; they WERE going to feel like Little “T”s.  The only thing she could do was strengthen her skills for managing those feelings, by focusing on positives, gratefulness, and calming strategies. 

We went upstairs in private and tried to wrap our minds around the pajamas. 

She cried and tried not to get hysterical, “I’m so fat Mommy and these look terrible.  They are so tight!  And I want to wear MINE, not YOURS!  I want to have MY nickname that Daddy put.” 

“Honey, I understand how you feel.  Look at the tag babe.  These are for KIDS!  You are 11!  You are almost as tall as me, you just need a women’s small, that’s it.  I know it’s disappointing, but all we can do is come up with another solution.  Try and take a breath, put mine on, and shake it off.”

We switched, leaving her with “Ahmee the Mommy” on her chest.

She did it, soothed herself, used her tools.  Changed into mine, came down to read the Christmas Story.  By the third page, she was fast asleep on the rug.  FRIED.

Christmas Day

6 am, kids ran down and slayed the presents.  Coffee brewed, carols played, paper schrapnel covered the floor.  Hysterical laughter and smiles from ear to ear.  Lots of thank yous.  Ahhh yes, together.  My heart overflowed.

Soleil and Violet had a dance party together.  They tried on new clothes.  Soleil was beside herself with joy that her sister wanted to play with her.  We started to prep for dinner and set the table.

“I want to sit next to Violet!”

“Noooo!  I’m sitting next to her!!!” 

This kind of bickering, I would embrace.  The internal smile in Violet was worth it.

I felt so content.  Although not without its moments, I was able to have perspective and see that everyone was enjoying each other, including me. 

We all got ready for guests.  Violet “styled” Sol by helping her choose clothes.  She beamed with feeling old and cool.  Did her hair just like Violet’s.  Ax wore a suit and wanted to show Violet as soon as his getup was complete.  Sibling love in the air, the band was back together. 

The day progressed, no major issues.  We made it through some stressful dinner guests and bedtime without disruption.  Tension, but no breakdowns.

The Day After

Violet’s flight back to school was the next morning.  I could have guessed this would be a hard day.  She saw her local favorite friend, who she was always great with, a perfect distraction.  Still, she came home and looked completely ravaged.  She seemed as if she had outrun her capacity for effort.  The high of being home was wearing off. 

We started dealing with packing.  What to leave, what to bring.  I saw something lurking behind the façade of “I’m fine.”  The understandable anxiety and sadness of leaving again?  Resentment that the other kids got to stay?

I went downstairs to make dinner.  Heard some foot stomping and my stomach flip-flopped.  We had not had aggressive sounds in months.  Precursor to danger.

“What are YOU looking at?”  Violet shoulder-shoved my husband as she passed him in the hallway.  Oh no.  He tried to help her…

“Vi, what was that?  What’s going on?  Feels like you need to use your tools, you ok?”

 And just like that, the switch flipped.   

I don’t even remember what happened in these mere moments.  There were more disrespectful words and tones, it escalated quickly into yelling.  My husband came downstairs.  I got involved.

“Violet.  Take this sheet of paper and go into your room and write down your feelings.  You are NOT able to express them appropriately right now.  When you are?  You are welcome to come back and talk.  BUT NOT NOW.  Go.” 

“I NEED TO EXPRESS MYSELF!!!  You are not listening to me!!!”

“Please Violet, this sounds too out of control.  Please go into your room and take space.  You have to calm down before we can listen to you.  PLEASE.”

“BUT YOU HAVE TO LET ME EXPRESS MYSELF!!!!!  I HAVE TO!!!  You have to LISTEN TO ME!!!!”

“Violet, I cannot listen to you like this.  This is NOT our deal.  Go into your room and use your tools.  Breathe, write things down, listen to music.  Please, you MUST take space.”

Door slam, crashing sound.  Screaming.  Refusal to use tools.  I tried desperately to get the therapist on the phone.  The Little Ts accumulated and just became too much for her to manage.

I watched the undoing redo itself.  I was ensnared in the terrifying tangle of old, sticky, inescapable webs.  I wanted to run out of the house and start over.   

She had done so well for the past 3 days, I was desperate to save this deviation.  She had made it through the initial overwhelming situation, a pressure-filled holiday homecoming, the pajama trauma, the weird guests, what was happening???  No Violet nooooo.

After 25 minutes on the phone with the therapist, she was quiet.  I tentatively creeped up the stairs to spy and see if she was ok. 

Axul, who had been listening in his room, creeped over too.  I tried to wave him off.  He slid a piece of paper under her door. 

Finally, the door creeked open.  Violet came out holding the paper.  She came down and rejoined the family.  She still couldn’t relax the tortured expression on her face.  We tried to ignore it. 

I had not done a good job with MY tools.  I was too shaken from the flashback.  I truly felt at a loss.  This tapped right into MY Little Ts.  It was too familiar, too reminiscent of old spirals.  Too out of control, too unreachable, too scary. 

Compassion: the response to the suffering of others that motivates a desire to help.

We sat in silence, all 5 of us.  The weight of the tirade fresh in the air.  Finally, Axul looked over at her.

“Are you OK Violet?” 

Ice thawed.  She hugged him, still solemn, thanked him for the picture.  Soleil joined in.  Pretended to fall off the stool and giggled on the floor.  When it didn’t work the first time she did it again.  Slowly but surely, Violet’s sullen face melted into a smile. 

I sat quietly and watched these children commit to their unspoken pact to help their sister.  As the dark cloud lifted, I looked at the paper Axul had given her.  It was a little 5-year-old drawing of our family, with misspelled scrawl that said, “FEL BETR.”       

Can you teach empathy?  Can compassion be learned?  Out of this struggle, we have all found our deepest human potential.  Even though it IS suffering for me to watch my child, my children, experience this?  Even though after all the loss, work, and sacrifice - it is STILL so hard?  I get THIS.  I get to watch my 5 and 7 year old find compassion.  As the struggle dissipated into opportunity, I sighed.  So grateful.

I drove her to the airport the next day.  Held her hand the whole way there, heavy bellies in the car.

“Will I be able to come home again Mommy?”

Chestpains.  Nausea.  Violet.  My darling little first born babe. 

“Sweet girl, all of this work is so we can be together.  That is ALL I want.  I am dying for you to be home.  I miss you so much every second.  We just need to figure out how to make it healthy for everyone.”  And we will.

She had used her tools.  She struggled, she recovered.  She succeeded and faltered.  She made progress.  We all had more work to do.  

I mentally wrapped all of our Little Ts in a holiday bow and packed them away.  The New Year would bring new visits.  New opportunities for discovering our best selves.  For creatively turning negatives into something constructive.  Soleil and Axul had it down.  I wanted to do it too. 

 

 

http://www.amazon.com/Mans-Search-Meaning-Viktor-Frankl/dp/080701429X

http://fountainhillcenter.org/articles/big-t-vs-little-t-trauma-second-article-series-trauma-today/

http://blogs.psychcentral.com/after-trauma/2014/02/the-big-deal-with-little-t-traumas/

 

 

 

 

PARTNERS FOR LIFE

“Relationships with siblings are ineradicably fixed in our psyches.”  (Belinda Sharp)

Oh siblings.  The implied permanence of the sibling relationship makes the connection so damn serious.  You just can’t escape them no matter how you try.  No matter how much hurt, how much love, you are still just…connected.  How can you not be? 

By the time children are 11, they spend 33% of their free time with their siblings--more time than they spend with friends, parents, teachers or even by themselves. (Penn State University study, 1996) 

33%???  That’s crazy!  We must learn so much about relationship management from our siblings.  Nurture, competition, rivalry, emulating, sharing, manipulating, pushing boundaries, acquiescing, pecking order, conflict resolution, who you are when faced with crises – it’s endless.  The sibling exchange has also been called the “rehearsal for adulthood.” It truly must be one of the most pivotal relationships of our lives. 

I knew it was grossly important for my kids to reunite with their sister, have resolution around her absence and what that meant for them.  I wasn’t quite sure how we would DO at it, but it was time to try. 

Violet went to Wilderness in June, graduated in September and transitioned into a therapeutic boarding school.  Now it was Thanksgiving break.  Our other two children hadn’t seen their sister in nearly 5 months; they were dying for her.  It was time to get the band back together.  I was completely petrified.

INTERJECTION:  Wilderness and the 3 local visits with Violet at school were FULL of hope for me.  They were all very “successful” – no disrespect or uncontrollable outbursts.  I was extremely optimistic that things would be better from here on out.  I feared struggle but did not anticipate it.  I have learned that this is an insane rollercoaster of thrilling growth and depressing regression.  A hard ride to endure, yet thus is life when change is the mission.

The younger kids, Soleil (6) and Axul (5), seemed so very excited to see Violet.  However, all the kids are SO different from each other.  Ax was very vocal and overt, and Sol was extremely internal.   She didn’t want to discuss Violet, didn’t want to draw pictures for her.  As the visit came closer, she seemed quiet.  I could FEEL her concern.  She loved her, they both did.  But there was a rift between the two girls. 

Among the children, Soleil had gotten the brunt of Violet’s acting out.  They both wanted attention from Daddy most of all.  Violet had been Daddy’s only girl for a year and a half (stepdad who has never NOT acted as the real dad) and Soleil arrived, dethroning her.  They looked different and they acted differently. 

Violet woke up scowling, needing silence for about 20 minutes while she shook the night terrors off.  Soleil was the kid who woke up singing, skipping into the kitchen for breakfast.  You can imagine how annoying the singing would be.  Well, I can, and I am the morning girl too.

When Violet was in a good mental space, Soleil worshipped her.  Copied her dance moves, wore her clothes, liked what she liked, tried to be old like her.  When she was in an insecure spot, Soleil’s confidence grated on her.  Soleil had her feelings hurt a lot, and developed some walls to protect herself.  None too great that you couldn’t see her die-hard desire for Violet’s love peeking over the top of them.  Painful.

We got to the school and all reunited.  Nervous stomach.  Axul was all over Violet asking questions, jumping around, following her like a little puppy.  Soleil was hugging Violet, but standoffish.  Violet noticed.

We drove to a house we rented in the beauteous blue mountains.  There wasn’t a TV.  There was a roaring fireplace where we did puzzles, art projects, read.  We hiked together, played hide-and-seek, cooked.  Played jump rope outside.  Chased and laughed and screamed. 

First day?  Great.  Easy, calm, sweet, lovely.  The second and third day became difficult.  Hide-and-seek would be so hysterical that it would get edgy.  The screams too loud, the touching too rough.  I could feel the eggshells creeping back in and my attention getting sucked up by Violet’s mood maintenance.

Thanksgiving dinner came and there were just too many old triggers with everyone together.  Violet had tools and strategies written out, goals in place.  Didn’t matter.  Her emotional strength could not rise above the familiar frustrations of the 3 child dynamic.  I started getting worried. 

The impending doom culminated in a full-scale-screaming blow out.  I panicked and called in reinforcements (school therapist) who said to bring her back to school if she couldn’t calm down.  Uggggh, nooooooo.  How could it STILL be this hard?

The kids did not want to see her struggle, they didn’t want to see US struggle with her.  There hadn’t been screaming in our house for 5 months and it was scary.  My husband and I argued.  Felt like we dipped right back into the same old place. 

We had a family meeting to reset.  We all decided to try and make everyone feel heard and ready to proceed together for the next day.  We made promises, agreements, structure.  We were going to try to have fun, and that was it. 

After bedtime, in the quiet moments with my husband, I cried.  I was SO disappointed.  I wanted everyone to just love each other and have fun being together.  WHY COULDN’T WE DO THAT?  I felt like a bad person when there was arguing and yelling.  I didn’t want the kids or my husband to resent me or Violet for re-introducing the drama.  It was just not what I thought it would be.  That was a bitter pill to swallow.

Soleil did not seem to be latching back onto Violet.  It was probably a defense mechanism, a protection, but I wanted to fix it.  I knew it wasn’t right for me to force the issue, so I had to back off.  I had to let her be who she was.

“Mommy why doesn’t Soleil seem happy to see me?”

“Babe, I see what you’re talking about.  You know what?  Everyone is different.  I think we just have to let her warm back up on her own time.  The good news is, when she does?  You can trust it is genuine because she clearly isn’t gonna fake it.”

The sibling relationship.  SO SACRED.  These are the people who knew you when you were formulating your first words and thoughts.  Your first giggles and interests.  Your first terrible dance moves and mistakes.  Your first understanding of love and family.  The idea that my kids weren’t connected was killing me.  I have always adored my brother.  I have so many amazing memories with him.  I didn’t want any precious love or time to be lost. 

From the time they are born, our brothers and sisters are our collaborators and co-conspirators, our role models and cautionary tales.  They are our scolds, protectors, goads, tormentors, playmates, counselors, sources of envy, objects of pride.  They teach us how to resolve conflicts and how not to; how to conduct friendships and when to walk away from them.  Sisters teach brothers about the mysteries of girls; brothers teach sisters about the puzzle of boys.  Our spouses arrive comparatively late in our lives; our parents eventually leave us.  Our siblings may be the only people we'll ever know who truly qualify as partners for life.  (Jeffrey Kluger, TIME)

As we were leaving the house and driving Violet back to school, the kids giggled in the back, harboring a secret.  They finally told me that every night of our days together, Soleil had snuck out of her bed to sleep with Violet. 

“Are you mad at us Mommy?  Please don’t be mad!”

I sat silently trying not to cry.  Was I mad?  My heart throbbed in my chest.  Nope, this wasn’t mad.  This was quiet peace and understanding.  She did love her.  She did forgive and miss her.  She just wanted to tell her herself, in the silence of sleepytime, without anyone looking.

One day my husband and I will be gone.  Our children will have their own families who know and love them.  But no one will ever know their youth the way they will know each others’.  No one will have as many funny stories and insights into how they were formed to be who they are.  Seems like it’s a part of my job to take care of it, no?  Let our legacy be siblings who love each other.  I promise to try my hardest. 

Reuniting, forgiveness, repair. 

Oh Siblings.  Partners for life. 

 

 

https://www.psychologies.co.uk/family/the-importance-of-siblings.html

http://content.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1209949,00.html