For the Boys ~ From this Mom

Had to draw one tonight with Vale.  Supper came and, god forbid, we actually put some food on his plate.  He had made a deal with this psychiatrist that he would eat 3 meals and a snack.  This was his third meal, and I reminded him of that fact.  Couple this with the fact that he wanted to continue building his Lego city and I told him he needed to clean up and we started to get build up of anger in him.

After supper and with more insisting that he put his Lego pieces away, Vale started to become increasingly agitated with me.  He stopped speaking to me politely or respectfully.  He started shutting down.  I could see in his face that he wanted to cut and/or throw up so badly.  He would show me, he would cut and then I’d feel bad.  Well that was not going to happen.

I threw down the gauntlet.  He was throwing a temper tantrum, I told him under with no uncertain terms that if he made the choice to cut or vomit because he was angry with me that I would not comfort him.  I would not cry with him.  I would not deal with his cuts, or if they were bad enough I would take him to the hospital and leave him there.  I understand the release he receives from cutting.  I understand the urge.. the addiction.  However, it can not become a power play to ensure he gets what he wants in the home.  The fear of it exacerbating him and making his issues the absolutely center of the home mandates our firm stand.

Before he went to bed, I reassured him of how much we loved him, how I wanted him to sleep well, how I wanted to hug and kiss him good night.  But he was in control of what happened in the next few moments and we gave him some time to figure out how he wanted to play it out.  He decided to hug and kiss his father goodnight and ignore me and go to bed.

Okay, between all of you and me.  I am scared of what he’s going to do.  How much will he damage himself to assert himself.  I can’t even begin to guess.  It was be so incredibly easy to cave in and cater to him in order for him to not self harm.  But as his mother, I know that this would be a slippery slope, and the end of it would be grave.  I pray that we only have this ‘fight’ once, I prove my point, and he will know where we all stand.

We’ll see… we’ll see.

I wanted to write an entirely separate post on Vale’s eating disorder, even thought it truly fits in with everything else.  I guess I want to write about it separately, because there is so little out there about boys who have eating disorders.  I can’t find a term that defines the eating disorder that Vale seems to have.  I hate using the term have.. like it’s cooties or something.  Vale’s mind and heart are shattered… he chooses not to eat because he doesn’t feel like he deserves to.  That’s just not something you ‘have’.

A couple of months ago, we noticed that Vale was eating less.  Honestly we didn’t think anything of it.  Children’s appetites naturally ebb and flow.  We thought that perhaps Vale was at the bottom of a growth spurt and was simply eating less.  It is winter, he wasn’t as active.  But most importantly, we had no clue about his state of mind or his cutting.  When things came to light we started looking at his eating in a whole new way.

You can’t say that Vale is bulimic, because he don’t binge.  He doesn’t fit the classic definition of anorexia because he doesn’t have a negative body image.  He doesn’t think he’s fat.  He doesn’t want to loose weight, get more ‘buff’ or slim down.  He doesn’t think he’s too thin either.  He stopped eating because he felt he wasn’t worthy of it.  Now, it’s just too uncomfortable to put food in his stomach.  When he feels full he doesn’t like the feeling and he has tried for a while to throw up.  I really credit the grace of God that he hadn’t been able to do it.  However, he learned that if he puts his toothbrush down his throat, he can stimulate the gag reflex and thus vomit.  He revealed this to us last night.  I am so devestated.

Please don’t get me wrong, when you see your son’s arms criss crossed with angry frowns drawn by the edge of scissors or kitchen knife, it’s horrible anguish.  But to know the life threatening severity of restriction and purging… the possibility of having to bury your child becomes ever so real, so vivid.  To know he feels so much triumph in being able to vomit the food you so carefully ensure he puts down his throat… knowing you can’t lock up his gag reflex, you can’t watch him 24/7.  Really, you’re absolutely powerless.  Even now, as I type this post I’m sitting in the living room quietly, not daring to turn on the television, because if I listen I can hear the hinges on my upstairs bathroom.  But this is no way to live.. starving, is no way to die.

… and yet so little energy to do it with.  We had a lovely time with friends yesterday, a pretty positive day all around.  Until the evening that is.  One the way home from church, I explained to the children that I was exceedingly tired and I asked them to get their things together, get something to eat and go to bed peaceably so that I could go to bed at a decent hour.  Vale’s disposition was off all evening.  He was distant, limp and cold.  I knew something was up and asked him several times if something was wrong, if he needed to talk or if he had something he shouldn’t have.  He just looked at me blankly and murmured virtually nothing.  Bedtime had come.  As my husband and I were having our evening snack, Vale comes down with his bland face, eyes darting about, acting anxious.  He handed over a knife.  He picked it up at the church and smuggled it out.  When he showed me his arms.. oh my, what a disaster.  He started cutting on his stomach as well.  That was new.

His anxiety was elevated because we had the meeting at the CAC (please see a previous post) the next morning and he was horribly concerned about it.  What worried him most was that there would be a camera and microphone in the forensic interviewing room.  He hated the thought of the video camera.  Also he felt that the last time he was interviewed he got two details confused and he would ‘mess things up’ and no one would believe him.  No matter how much soothing, affection, tears etc I tried to showered on him would bring him back to me, he stayed in that distant vacant place he went.  

As dreadful as his arms looked, the vacancy was more intimidating, more heart wrenching.

Why is it that Vale is the one who taught himself how throw up, yet it’s me who feels like the one decending into Hell?

Link: Broken Snares Unlimited

I happen to personally know Bruce Hughes and his son Patrick.  I hope to order his book soon.

„,is dealing with the fact that company is coming tomorrow.  I have to deal with people coming into my house, and I have to cook them food.  I know, what’s the big deal right?  People do this everyday.  But for some reason, one I can’t quite ascertain, this is a monumentally daunting task for me.  I’m turning quite agoraphobic these days, and that can’t be healthy for anyone.

I want to cancel in the worst way.  I think about it every few minutes.  But I know that once the preparations are made and the visitors are actually here, I will enjoy the company.  Also it’s best for the family to engage in more ‘normal’ activities.  I also have the bonus of the fact that this family understands what we’re going through and are supportive, especially my fellow mom Karen.  And we are celebrating my oldest’s birthday…. so it’s all good and when I end this blog entry I will force myself to think on those positive things.

I have to do some food shopping.  Ordinarily I wouldn’t bring Vale, because that is *not* his thing.  But in light of what happened yesterday, do I bring him?  I’ll definitely lock up the tool boxes while I’m gone.  Maybe that will be good enough?  It’s a thin line (razor thin? cutting pun?)  between doing what you can to keep him safe and allowing him his very necessary autonomy.  Tough call.

…define our house these days.  All sharp implements are locked in one of two tool boxes.  

They are black plastic little numbers with two small parts storage places in the lid, which we do not use, a tray inside to hold smaller objects, which we’ve learned not to use, and a large cavity to store your tools.. or cutting implements.  So how did Vale get a hold of the scissors yesterday?  Well he’s learned that he can unlatch the box and cram his hand in there, which is why we no longer keep anything in the tray.  But yesterday, he wormed his hand in, lifted the tray and tried to find something on the bottom.  He said it was really painful to do, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the scissors.

These are the official keys, and you often hear shouts throughout the house, ‘who has the keys?!’  We have installed lockable doorknobs on bedroom doors so that the other children can have what they want in their room, and not worry about if everything that Vale could possibly hurt himself is stashed away.  Too much pressure to be that vigilant.  So if someone needs to get into their bedroom, they’ve got to figure out who had the keys last and procure them.

The last place we locked up is the basement, because that’s just cutter’s heaven.  Trying to make sure that Vale didn’t go down there was just too hard.  His favorite cutting implement is a box cutter.  And although we do have a lock on the tool box, it’s just too easy for him to find something.

Vale feels terrible about the house being so locked down.  He feels that he’s screwed everything up and forced the family to live like this.  Odd, because no one else in the house feels that way.  This child was raped when he was so young, bravely carried that secret for 6 years until it starting tearing out of of him.  Yep, it’s a pain in the keister sometimes to have to constantly be looking for the keys, but the cost in the long run is too high a price for us to pay.  So yeah, inconveniencing me a little in order for my boy to stay alive and safe?  Bring it on.

I admit it.  Some days I just don’t deal well.  I don’t know exactly what happens to make me less able to cope than others; the mood Vale is in (or how quickly he vacillates between moods), the amount of phone calls I’ve made or received, trying to manage more than one crisis at a time, etc.  Today I believe the impetus was the school trying to schedule even more meetings.  

I requested a 504 plan for Vale, to build in some protection for him when it came to school.  A 504 is similar to an IEP (a legal contract between you and the school for academic support of your special needs child) but is for health reasons as opposed to any type of learning disability.  If your child broke their leg and needed to use the elevator then perhaps you would have a 504 drafted to make sure that he/she is taken care of in school.  Because the initial doctor to see Vale thought that he would need to be in a day treatment program, for Vale focus is a major issue due to the onslaught of flashbacks he’s enduring, and the many appointments we’re attending, I wanted a 504 to enable Vale to have extension on assignments etc.  With everything going on, I didn’t want 7th grade to also be a burden.

Vale’s original doctor put on the 504 document that he wanted Vale tested for PDD, which honestly, blows my mind.  There are a number of reasons for that, but where are we getting autism with this child?  Perhaps they just want to rule anything organic out.  Anyway, because of the request to have Vale evaluated for PDD, the school is calling and wanting meeting after meeting to make sure they keep all their legal ducks in a row.  I appreciate their position, and that they are trying to be so proactive, but I need one more thing to deal with like I need the proverbial hole in the head.  So by 3:00 today, I had had it, and was in desperate need for a nap.  That proved to be a big mistake.

I laid down for about an hour and a half, and woke to find Vale sitting on the floor outside my bedroom.  I knew this was not a good sign and asked him what was the matter.  Without looking at me he handed me a pair of scissors and I knew what had happened.  Part of me wants to be angry with Vale because I can’t even take a nap without him hurting himself.  How am I going to get any type of self care?The strain of having to be so vigilant can really be overwhelming, not just for me, but to Vale’s father and siblings.  For instance, one of his sisters left her razor in the shower by accident.  Vale found it and gave it to her, but she was devastated that she put him in that dangerous predicament.  Vale didn’t use the razor, but that didn’t ease his sister’s mind.  And for that reason, my husband and I don’t feel like we can go out together, because if something would happen, Vale’s siblings would have to carry a terrible weight.  So there is no respite from this, no break.  Who would you ask to watch a child like this.  I doubt handling a possible suicide is not part of any babysitter’s manual.

However, I remember that Vale gave me the scissors, and that is the idea that I have to hang on to.  He could have stashed them in his room.  He could have pretended like nothing ever happened and put on his ‘I’m perfectly fine face’ when I woke from my nap.  He could have cut for a couple of days without my knowing, but he chose to give up the scissors right away.  How could I be angry with him?  Yes the situation strains everyone in the home.  The situation is difficult, tiring, worrisome.  But Vale isn’t the situation.  He didn’t cause it and most importantly he’s doing what he can to overcome it.  That’s worth a few naps, don’t you think?

Yesterday, Vale had his first appointment with his art therapist.  We’ve heard a lot of good things about the therapy organization we are now using, so it gives me hope.  We looked for an art therapist for Vale, because of his natural tendencies to draw and also due to his inability to verbalize himself sometimes.  When Vale becomes anxious he literally can not speak, the words seem to get stuck in his throat.  It is our hope that through art therapy he can finally bring to the surface the abuse and move past it to healing.  I know, understand and accept that Vale won’t ever get truly over the abuse he suffered, but it doesn’t have to define him.  I have used the analogy with him that the abuse is this heavy box that is pressing him down now.  One day that heavy box will be used by him to stand on, to rise him up.  I’ll keep you posted on the art therapy, so that any other parents who may be reading this blog could see if it is a viable option for their son (or daughter for that matter).

I’ll be posting some more foundational post as pages to this blog.  I posted one already about the purpose of this blog.  I’d like to post a page about Vale, one about me and one on how all this came to light.  I will be posting them as pages, so these more key items of this journey won’t get lost in an archive.  

Question: RE your post on Vale: If you are struggling with having him tell his story over and over, maybe you could approach it from the perspective of writing? It might be safer if he has that distance. I know that’s helped me in the past.

I really like your posts so far. Thank you for talking about this issue. <3

Chungyenhttp://morereasonsyoushouldntfuckkids.tumblr.com/

Answer:

Hello,

Thanks for taking the time to read my blog and reply.  I’m really humbled that anyone is taking interest in this story.  I’m going to try to write about why I have started a blog, and actually one of the reasons is to bring this into the open.  It seems more culturally acceptable for girls to express their feelings etc, but it’s taboo or not manly for a boy or man.  Boys are self mutilators.  Boys have ED.  Boys are molested.  Boys need help.

I agree with you, writing is an incredible outlet, which is the other reason why I am blogging.  It’s cathartic for me.  We (his dad and I) do encourage Vale to express himself through writing and through art.  He has a journal where he writes poetry which is quite beautiful  (which I hope he lets me post one day) and he draws.  He also takes pictures and reflects his feelings through the edits.  In fact, you may be interested to know that Vale has started a tumblr blog as well, where he has posted some of his photography.  You might be interested in visiting that.  You can find the link for his blog on my page.

Thanks again for writing to me with your advice and support.  I appreciate it.

~Vale’s Mom

 

Question: You’re beautiful and unique <3- Hope that made you smile :)

xoxo - your life is more precious than you think.

Answer: I think your comment was meant for Vale, and I’ll make sure I share it with him. =)  Thank you for taking the time to write!

~Mom