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Showing posts with the label CPV

Saturday

Saturday started at 5am, as usual.

Husband took the early shift, also as usual. He seems to need less sleep than I do, and is also blessed with one of those brains that will switch off on demand, meaning he drops off within minutes of getting in to bed.

This particular morning we’d agreed the night before that Husband would definitely get up if it was any early one, as I’d been up early quite a lot of the week and was feeling tired to the point of not quite feeling safe to drive. Needless to say, I had then proceeded to wake up at half past four, half past six, and finally at quarter to eight – this time by the absolute racket that was coming from downstairs. Quite apart from the noise Tickle was making, Husband is normally very calm and softly-spoken, so the fact I could even hear his voice from upstairs was an indicator that something wasn’t right. The fact that his voice was saying “Tickle you are not allowed to head butt me” was an even bigger clue.

Thanks to Facebook messenger, I…

Fairy's morning

Here is a post I wrote this morning, but couldn't upload because the internet was down:

It gets worse before it gets better. I know this. But the worse is happening right now, and the better is only a hope for the future.

I want to make a better log of what is happening, and what I’m doing, so I can try to work out what works and what doesn’t. If any of my adoptive, therapeutic friends would like to make any suggestions then I would be delighted to hear them.

This morning Tickle was worried about school, as usual. It doesn’t help that his teacher left with one days notice, and they don’t seem to be actually doing any of the things we discussed that might help him cope a bit better.

At breakfast he was banging the table, and saying he wanted to hurt the cats. Each time I asked him to come in to the sitting room with me, to have a sit in the comfy chair and calm down. The first time I said I had to keep Etta safe, as he’s not allowed to hurt her; he has to come and sit with me unti…

Reflections on this week

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It's been a funny old week. (By which I mean I have journeyed through the depths of howling despair and back again.)

Less than a week ago I genuinely thought we might have to disrupt. Weirdly, today I'm feeling more positive about things than I have done in quite some time. This has been achieved, I think, by a few significant shifts in the way I'm thinking.

The first was to do with self care, though actually it's more than that. We all know that we should look after ourselves, do nice things, make sure we get a break now and then. However, this week I realised that what self care actually means is placing my own needs on equal footing with those of my children. Or maybe even above them, sometimes.

For the last 18 months our entire household has been a slave to Tickle's emotions. He has blossomed under this approach, but the rest of us have suffered.  This week we gave ourselves permission to step away from him and focus on ourselves and each other, even at the ti…

The Key

I've had a really crap few days.

My friends reading this will know that I had a big event last weekend; an event I've spent all year working on, which hundreds of people came to, and something of which I am very proud. I honestly don't know how I got through it - the build up, the preparation, the event itself. I've got a team of amazing people working with me, but I'm the big boss, so the buck stops with me.

It's my favourite weekend of the year, usually, but this year I didn't enjoy it. I mean, I did - I smiled, I laughed, I saw my friends, I felt proud of it all... but it was like I was viewing it through a lens. I didn't feel connected. I could see everyone having a great time, but I couldn't get a hold of that deep down in your stomach happiness. I just felt a bit hollow.

I've been feeling this way for a while. Not all the time, certainly, but I have noticed a definite reluctance to connect with my deep down feelings. Sometimes it's bec…

Therapeutic parenting and CPV

I've been doing some thinking this evening.

I've not had a brilliant day today; nothing out of the ordinary - not our ordinary anyway - apart from the fact that I had a big work thing this weekend (the sort that is a year in the planning) and that I think all the holding-myself-together that I've been doing for the last few months came suddenly and spectacularly apart at the seams. I finally let myself think the unthinkable in a way I'd never really done before, and not only that I went and admitted it to both Tickle's Social Worker and our Adoption Social Worker.

So this evening I'm worn out, and I've got a hell of a headache from crying for six hours, but I do feel a tiny bit relieved to at least have got it out in the open. Our Social Worker was practical and solid. She asked questions and she took a lot of notes. We formulated a bit of a plan of what we were going to do over the next few days, and she's going to come and visit again next week. Tickl…

I'm OK

I'm OK.

For those who read my last post and are worrying, I'm OK. Not brilliant, obviously, but I had a long chat to my mum, and a cry, and it was OK for me not to be the one that copes with everything for a few minutes.

All day even the thought of being around Tickle was making me almost recoil, emotionally. It was like it was a trigger, for me. Fairy was chatting about him at one point, about one of the cute things he'd done, and I could actually feel myself shutting down inside.

Husband had kept T out all day, and whisked him straight upstairs when they got home. Eventually he stuck his head round the door and asked if I wanted to say goodnight. I didn't want to, but I did it anyway.

Then Tickle said "Will you stay with me mum?"

I said yes.

There was no thunderclap, no choir of angels, no glowing halo of light surrounding both of us. Nothing changed.

Just, he wanted me to stay with him, and I wanted to be there.

So, I'm OK. Not brilliant, obviously, bu…

The Walnut under the Mountain

I'm drowning.

I'm in bed, at 10.30 on a Saturday morning, because I can't bring myself to get up and face the day. Face Him.

On Thursday afternoon, Tickle head butted me, full in the face. In the nose, actually. It was incredibly painful, and would have been even worse if I hadn't read his body language and reflexively started to move backwards. I suspect a trip to A&E would have been on the cards.

Since the incident, I haven't really spoken to him. Husband and Gran between them have picked up the slack, and I've not had to do much more than say goodnight.

I'm struggling with the idea of being in the same room as him. I was thinking earlier that he doesn't even feel like my son any more, though when I came to write it down I was relieved to find it didn't feel quite right. I do still have that tiny knot, deep in my stomach that connects me to him, though at the moment it feels like a walnut buried under a mountain.

Mostly at the moment he feels …

It's been a tough week

It's been a tough week for us, my Little Man.
A week in which you've pushed your sister down the stairs
Yet stroked her back while she lay coughing.
"It's ok, sweetheart" you said,
Not three days since launching a missile at her head.

It's been a tough week for us, my Little Man,
As your hard veneer at school has cracked
In spectacular fashion;
Hitting teachers
Throwing plates
Overturning tables and chairs
Pushing, shouting, spitting.

I see you, Little Man.
And I see the Monster you struggle with inside.
I see him rushing to protect you from the danger he senses
but doesn't really understand.

I see him in your board-stiff limbs.
I see him on guard in every vein
I see him shove your sweet nature aside without a second thought,
To attack, bite, spit, and claw
When he thinks he's the only thing
Keeping you safe.

It's been a tough week for us, my Little Man.
Your Monster is close, overpowering you.
Protecting you.
He screams, drowning out the raging …

The morning after

It's the morning after. I'm writing because I still haven't quite worked out how I'm feeling. I'm feeling ill, which doesn't help; my endo has flared up and my head feels fuggy from crying so much yesterday.

Husband took Tickle out for the day yesterday, while Fairy went to Gran's and I had a rehearsal for a gig I'm doing next month. The music helped, gave me a focus, but as soon as that had finished everything was waiting for me just under the surface.

Trying to get my head around what I'm feeling is so difficult. In terms of actual, physical harm done to Fairy or myself, it's negligible. I'm sure there are many brothers who have done far worse things to their sisters and everyone has been OK. The emotional damage, on the other hand, is far more complex. Normally, when siblings are fighting, and a parent gets involved, you'd expect the fighting to stop - or at least for the angry child to find some semblance of self-control. Not with Ti…

Happy Mother's Day

Picture the scene. It's Mother's Day. I'm reading a book in bed, Husband is about to get Tickle dressed to take the kids out swimming, and just pops in to the loo. Fairy comes out of her bedroom, and starts to walk downstairs to get herself some breakfast. I hear a shout.

"Tickle! Stop it! Daaad!!"

I jump out of bed. Tickle has tried to push Fairy down the stairs, and is now thumping her on the head. I grab him, and take him upstairs to my room. I know I ought to stay with him, he's obviously in a bad place and needs me to stay close and regulate him.

But Fairy is crying on the stairs.

She has done nothing to deserve this. She was just walking down the stairs.

I go to her, sit on the stairs with her, put my arms round her and kiss her head.

Tickle appears at the top of the stairs. He's holding the bottle of water that was next to my bed, and before I can do anything he has launched it at Fairy's head.

A few days ago, I didn't have a plastic bottle…

I went on a course...

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As some of you might know, yesterday I went on a course, which was about some of the Big Stuff that we are having to deal with. Although some people reading this will know more details, I'm not comfortable with being quite so blatant about the Stuff in this post, because really, it's Tickle's Stuff, not mine. So, for the purposes of this blog post, the course was about how children are affected by significant trauma, and what parents can do to help.

I was pretty anxious about it beforehand; I didn't really know what to expect, and was worried that I'd find it difficult and emotional. However, I found the day as a whole to be a really positive experience, and I came away with a lot of stuff whirling around in my head which I'm going to try and sort out in to a post here. Advance warning - it might end up quite long!

We started off talking quite generally about trauma, and what the word means. Apparently it comes from the Greek word literally meaning 'wound&#…

Fear

My life is ruled by fear at the moment. It's pervasive; it affects everything.

I got bitten this morning, because of it. Because Tickle was throwing stuff around, and I grabbed his arm from behind and surprised him, and he thought I was going to hurt him. He bit me on instinct, pure self-preservation.

Afterwards he was completely freaked out. If I'd thought about it, I would have expected him to go loopy, or need restraining, but he didn't. He was really shocked at himself. He kept trying to explain what had happened, but not quite having the right words; asking to look at the bite mark on my arm, rubbing and kissing it better. He said sorry without being asked. He was on the verge of tears.

Last night Tickle was able to articulate what we've known for a long time. He's scared of going to sleep because he thinks someone will come in and hurt him. He is terrified that his birth father will come to our house; it doesn't matter how many times I tell him that he do…

Happy New Year

It's been a while since I last posted. So many half-written posts never quite left my head; I'm not quite sure why, but I felt like I needed to take a step back from things for a bit, to give myself a break from the constant worrying, analysing, wondering if we're OK.

Quite a lot has happened in the month or so since I last wrote.

Tickle's Social Worker is still being an absolute arse. We cannot have a conversation now where she doesn't point out something that someone else is supposed to have done, some answer she is waiting for me to give her to a question I don't remember being asked, some piece of work someone else was supposed to do which - of course - is the reason she hasn't done the things *she* was supposed to do. Though there doesn't seem to be a reason why Tickle's life story book is now a year overdue, or why we still haven't been reimbursed for our introductions expenses. Her complete self-interest and total lack of tact or compassi…

I'm very tired.

Sometimes people say things to me like "Oh my kids used to get up at half five, I remember it well. It's exhausting, but it's a phase and it will pass."

I know they mean well, and I know they are trying to comfort me. Sometimes they don't know the reality, sometimes they seem (to me anyway) to be trying to make us realise how normal this behaviour is. I really do understand this comes from a place of love and wanting us to feel better, but what it ends up doing is minimising our feelings. When people say to Fairy "My brother hits me, that's normal." it makes her feel like she shouldn't mind, like she has no reason to feel scared of him.

Sometimes there's no point saying anything, so I just nod and smile, while I cry a bit inside. However if you're reading this, there's a good chance you really want to understand, so for you, I'm going to be really, brutally honest.

Tickle woke up at 5.30 this morning, and shouted at us because he…

Just a brief update...

Heard back from CAMHS today who have initially offered six sessions with me and Husband to talk through what's happening at home and offer us some 'support'. Non-committal about what they are actually going to offer Tickle, even when I pointed out it's all very well asking us how we feel about him punching us in the face but ideally we'd like them to help him deal with his emotions so that he doesn't punch us in the face in the first place. They are expecting us to travel a 2.5 hour round trip for each session (we were initially told they would come to us), plus if we follow their plan it will be two months before they even meet Tickle. I have explained to them that this is not an acceptable solution in any way, shape, or form. Will see what they come back with.

Yesterday had a much more useful meeting with two new social workers who are doing their own assessment of us and are actually planning on speaking to the children as part of that. Their initial reactio…

A day in the life

Today, one of our new Social Workers (the lovely one who is carrying out our assessment of need) emailed to say she needs to include something about the emotional impact all of this is having on our family, what a typical day is like, and the reality of parenting Tickle.

Here is my reply:
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Hi Lovely Social Worker,
OK I'll do my best..! It's not always easy to talk about I think, because if we stopped to admit quite how much of an impact it is having on us it would be too overwhelming and we'd struggle to get going again! I think most of our daily life at the moment is gritting our teeth and getting on with it.
A typical day would be Tickle waking around five, when he will come in to our room and ask dad to come back to bed with him as he's scared on his own. Sometimes he wakes in the night but will usually accept being settled back to sleep, though any time after about 4.30 he's unlikely to go to sleep again. Husband will stay with him, sometimes listening to …