Monday, April 09, 2012

A Long Easter Afternoon


When safety issues and violent behaviors make it impossible for a kid(s) to continue living in the home within a family environment, it's equally as emotionally difficult to do what needs to be done. I'm just a mom, not a therapeutic resource beyond the minimal needs of normal trauma if one can use such a contradictory term.

The criticisms, unwarranted and sometimes downright malicious, are absolutely staggering. Folks who are talking bad certainly aren't the ones who lived so frightened and injured for so long.

I felt very validated yesterday as I sat with three people who'd transported two of my kids to another facility where I'd brought two others in the original sibling group for a visit.

"I just don't know how you ever felt safe enough to go to sleep back then," one told me, she who wouldn't transport one without a helper along for the ride. She who gets to go home at night when her shift is done, right now there are two adults tending to one of mine at all times, shift changes and two more come to relieve the previous shift. There are no other children there at the moment.

Oh Honey I know.

Not only am I now vastly relieved, but my own inner guilt even for trying so long, thus forcing my other children to live under what was nearly a terrorist regime, weighs heavily upon me.

"When we leave here," the woman told me, "Y'all fly right out of her mind."

Yeah, I get that. The attachment is superficial, if at all. We're kind of merely pawns in her head games. We did have a nice afternoon though.

"Her behaviors will get her sent to YDC," the woman prophesied. This does grieve me.

Society does not understand that some folks are driven internally by their mental diagnoses, if society does understand, there's still nowhere for them to go. Our jails have an abnormally high percentage of mentally ill residents.

I categorically do not want this to befall this pretty young lady, but she's not responding that well to therapeutic intervention. They'd had an episode the previous night, describing it to me and how they'd tried to calm her down. She'd threatened to murder one of the women.

I feel bad for all the times my family would slam shut as we dealt with this, the only good outcome would be if no one got injured by her. She'd do the same at school, church, and on the soccer field. I'd stand there helpless and embarrassed. If I disengaged she'd hurt someone to force me to react. My heart is pounding now with the adrenaline just in remembering these times.

All three women totally validated my Sophie's choice based on the behaviors they've seen over the last several months. One that I really liked is leaving her position to work on the grounds of a psychiatric hospital, leaving behind being constantly cussed out and racially discriminated against by my 17 year old who fears nothing and no one.

Easter Sunday and I'd left my other kids with Grandma to go visit kids who don't much care if I'm there or not. Arriving home seven hours later my other kids swarmed my truck, hugging me as if I'd been gone for a week, but their own inner alarms clang when they know I am with those who've assaulted us before.

Grandma'd cooked a late supper and we sat to eat, a calm nice evening here at the beginning of our Spring Break which'll be a staycation as we're not gong anywhere. If anything, we're reveling in simply a lighter schedule and some free time for the kids.

We had gotten to church though, the early service, recharging my spiritual batteries. Marcela and her husband, Curtis, bringing Marissa for the services are pictured here courtesy of Tony's photography.

Gina'd sent me this photo she'd found of me holding Jack who'll soon be 12 years old. That's Tony, now 16, with his arm around my leg, clinging. I spent sooooo many years with a baby on my hip and toddlers glued to me. These are the teenagers I now live with, kids who had time to bond, who've learned to trust me in spite of the outside forces that've jarred them so often as I caterwaul to anyone who'll listen, "We just wanna be normal"

Tony didn't leave my side last night until bedtime, rattled that I'd been gone all afternoon, always justly afraid that something could happen to me. I'm all he has.