Circling the wagons

I get asked the same question all the time, “I could never do what you do, how do you do it?”. I always answer the same “I don’t do it”. There is no way anyone can help a child of trauma heal alone. I am only human, I can’t offer everything my children need and so I have to find those that will add to my abilities as their mother. I learned from day one if you aren’t here to add to the healing of my children then you are not welcome in our camp. I had to circle the wagons. I put my children in the middle and then placed the right people around them as a circle of healing. The rest of the world was cut out. No one was safe from that cutting block, I didn’t care who they were, if they weren’t able to add to the safety and healing then they were placed on the outside of the circle.  I had to put my own mother on the other side of that circle and it was a hard and lonely choice to make.

I started at the top, I am a woman of faith so of course I could not do this without prayer and trust that God would be there guiding me every step of the way. I strongly believe that He has done just that. I have been blessed to have a husband that trusts me and has been the support that I needed, and not because he has always agreed with me. There have been many times he has had to look at me and remind me of my place in the circle. I am a better person with him standing by my side. I have lost friendships but have gained so many more. The friends I have lost had not been bad friends, just friends who could no longer relate to my world nor could they handle my world. The friends I have gained I cherish, they see me in all my broken glory and hold my arms up when I need it and hold me when I can no longer hold back the emotions. I have had old friendships strengthened and at times my husband and friends have had to circle around me inside our camp, my children seeing that has had its own healing factors. I had to teach my church family boundaries that are uncommon to the fabric of their being and it has created a safe place for other adoptive families to go to. I researched and found a therapist who would be a good fit for our family after being with one that only encouraged the behaviors of our children. I was open and honest with our caseworkers. There were days that I would answer the door in my PJ’s and just say “Today I do not like her and I am not going to hide that from you, how I look is how I feel and it is a direct result of her raging for the last three days straight!” I thank God that I had caseworkers who truly cared about me and were there to make sure my kids made it in our home. Not everyone on this journey has had that same support. Lastly, I have had to teach my children’s teachers how to be what they need, and those teachers hold a special place in my heart.

As summer is here and another school year has wrapped up I am brought back to just how big of a role those teachers have played in the healing of my little ones. I can remember feeling so nervous that first year our daughter was going to start school. We had been able to spend the whole summer working nonstop to help find healing. Her nor I left the house for most of it. She couldn’t handle the public eye, or the pressure that came with that eye. We had a routine down and the rages began to slow and became less intense, now we had to let the public schools have her. I was freaking out to say the least. Seriously, I can’t stress the control freak in me enough. I remember going into the first school meeting, with our case worker Ms. D, sick to my stomach. They weren’t going to understand, they were going to judge me, they were going to ignore me, and I just knew they were going to undo all the healing that had already taken place. I sat at a round table and looked at all the faces that I had known for the last five years. They all knew me as a mother to my son, a volunteer, and a room mom. Now they would all meet a new me. A mom that has a trauma child, a mom that has been beat on all summer, a mom that has already started the fight for healing, and a mom ready to fight even them. My case worker and I introduced my daughter through papers that day. We passed around the diagnosis as well as what would be the best atmosphere for that diagnosis. We gave examples of what they would come against in the year to come, how easy it would be for them to be manipulated by this beautiful little girl, and how hard it would be for them to understand what kind of boundaries she would need to succeed. We were met with the responses we knew we would get. They didn’t quite get it. I walked out of that meeting more nervous than when I went in. I can remember asking if I could please just home school her and  Ms. D looked at me and reassured me it would be ok because she had my back and would support me when I had to remind them what our girl needed. It was only three weeks in when I got the first phone call from her teacher.

“I think I met the real Syd today.” she told me. I sat and listened to her story of my daughter standing up in the middle of the lunch room and throwing her lunch box across the room because she didn’t want what I had given her and the monitor wouldn’t let her up to throw it away. I asked how long it lasted and how loud it had gotten. She said they were able to calm her quickly and sat her in the office for a few minutes to make sure she was safe for everyone. She had been happy the rest of the day and was able to admit it was a bad choice. I gave a little giggle and replied “oh, that isn’t the REAL Syd, but you are getting a glimpse. She is testing the waters of how easy it will be to control those in charge.” That day was the day that the best teacher I have ever had the blessing of being teamed up with started to get it. She would spend the rest of the year being tested by my girl and she passed with flying colors! I can’t tell you the number of times I would have to be called to be asked if she could be physically moved out of the classroom, how many books were ripped to shreds by her, how many threats she made to kill someone or herself, or how many pink slips my son had to deliver to me on her behalf. What I can tell you is how many A’s my daughter got on her report card this year, how many times I was complimented on what a great girl I have, how many real friendships she has been able to make at her new school, and how many moments I have closed my eyes and thanked the woman who worked her butt off to make it happen. I can share with you the day my daughter walked out of her parent teacher meetings and cried because it was the first time in her life that her teachers all told her she was a joy to have in class. I can tell you about the car ride home and how she recognized the first teacher that cared enough to be able to make that meeting possible. The teacher that she told she would kill, that teacher that didn’t shrink to the challenge, that teacher that shed tears because she cared so much, that teacher that spent a day off to drive across the state to watch her adoption finalized, that teacher who fought for her to get the education she needed. I will forever be grateful to that teacher.

No, I don’t do this alone. I have a village helping me. The village has had members come and go, it has been a place of healing and strengthening. My mother is now there with us and we have all learned how to help these kids of ours heal together. We have had to create mini circles around our son at times. We have had to fight for others in their camps. The battle has stormed on outside our circle, and we have had breaches in the wagons. We have met many families that have not had the same results as we have, there have been many hurt mothers who weren’t protected in their circles. There are way too many people who still say they could never do what we do and there are still so many little ones out there who need the wagons circled around them, and so I write………..