You were broken, abandoned
And crying all alone
We were waiting and praying
And longing to bring you home
And then we saw your face
In a moment you were wrapped up in our hearts
We took a step of faith
And now here we are

Will you let me hold you in my arms tonight
I have come so far to find you
So far to find you
Will you take my love and give up the fight
I have come so far to find you
So far to find you

From a world away, I journeyed
Just to hold your hand
You will never be alone again
I’ve come so far to find you
So far to find you

You were fighting and fearful
You were hiding your heart away
But I was trying so hard to show you
‘Cause there were no words that I could say
If you could see my heart
You would know that all I want to do
Is care for you

Here in your eyes I see
Reflections of myself
How I’m the child that’s really running
But I can hear a voice (of God) that’s whispering my name
Saying come to me, don’t run from me
I’m all you need and I am calling

From Heaven’s throne
Down to a rugged cross I came
It was My love for you that brought Me all the way
So far to find you
So far to find you

You were broken, abandoned
And crying on your own.

Written by John Mark Hall, Stephen Curtis Chapman

When I heard it I thought of Vale… of how after 8 years later he still has distrust.  I wonder, how long until he stops fighting and enjoys being safe.

Fallout: Loosing the Taste of Blackberries

Okay, I admit it.  I joined Weight Watchers.  Yes, the mother of a recovering eating disordered son joined a ‘dieting’ program.  I’m not remotely at a healthy weight and just as Vale needed to make better eating decisions so do I.  Weight Watchers encourages me to eat more healthy, so I’m not ‘restricting’ just making better choices.  And yes, Vale and I are talking about it quite a bit to make sure I’m not one huge trigger to him.  And I keep the scale, which I just recently purchased, stashed out of sight.  So far so good as I have lost 14 pounds.  Now if only Vale would find them…

And I just said all of that just to say this:  I’m buying and consuming more fruit.  Monumental right?  When I went to our local store (Maine Source ~ do you have one near by?) they had a sale on berries: blackberries, raspberries and blueberries.  That’s especially rare for this time of year so I scooped up a bunch of them because the kids and I enjoy them so much.  And if you have children you probably guessed that my kiddos were elated.  And if you have an ED child you probably guessed that I was equally elated to watch Vale scooping up the berries and eating them like candy.  Well, all of them except the blackberries.

After a bit of the other children enjoying the berries, Vale came to me and said, “You know Mom, I just can’t eat the blackberries.”  I was confused.  I did see him sampling them earlier and so I asked him if it was because he didn’t like blackberries or was there another issue.  Yeah, yeah, you know what I was thinking… restricting?  And in actuality I found the real reason far more sad.  Vale told me that at his former foster parents’ house, where his rapes occurred, there were blackberries growing all over the place.  And although enjoys the taste of blackberries, he just can’t eat them without thinking about the rape.  Another simple pleasure stolen.

My poor baby.  You go on and just eat those other berries then.

Never, ever underestimate what sexual assault, what rape will do to a person.  It snakes its way into everything.  Insidious.

 

A Mind Lost, Part 2

I just want to tell you up front that I don’t do the whole Part 1, Part 2 thing because I am trying to build tension and draw back readers.  I just get concerned that my posts are too long and the tedium will drive you to tears.  So I break it up to cut down on ennui.

I ended the last post with Vale’s disclosure.  Now, I’m not going to say that everything that’s happened with Oldest Son since Vale’s disclosure is directly related to the disclosure.  But I have to think that we’d be fools not to consider it.

Things with Oldest Son and his girl started heating up and he seemed more interested in getting physically close to her than actually thinking about her or doing right by her.  Since up to this point he was so willing to listen to his father and I and be guided by us and by the girlfriend’s parents we gently cautioned him to slow down and think and be aware of this girl’s needs and to take care of her like a gentleman.  Now him and said girl have known each other for years, so it’s not like they just met.  And said girl was also adopted from foster care so they have quite a bit in common.  I can see this girl being a life match for Oldest Son.  But after 1 month of not even formally courting he and she started talking about love and marriage, they were texting constantly, and he was breaking the standards he himself had set for this relationship.  So we sit Oldest Son down and try to put some reality into his head.  He hasn’t applied for any type of college, he isn’t doing stellar at his swing managing position at (Fast Food Joint) and we know this because my husband is his boss, so how is he going to make a future for himself and this girl?  Where is his head, what is he thinking?  We asked him to take a 2 week sabbatical from the girlfriend and just spend it thinking and praying and seeking God concerning things.  Apply for the college he was talking about, find ways to demonstrate leadership and set limits for himself in this relationship with said girl.  Do things decently and in order.  He also has a biological sister who needs some of his attention and he completely has ignored her, and we could use some help around the house because this new situation with Vale has us flummoxed and we need another adult.  He said he would.  He lied.

We found out that during these two weeks that he was to set himself aside to pray, to study, to fill out college applications, to set a schedule, etc he was secretly texting her… in the middle of the night.  This sabbatical was in the middle of February and the things we asked him to do are still not done.  After we found out that we was sneaking around and texting this girl even after he assured us he was not, we were livid and the down hill slide began.  We were furious not only because he lied habitually and he sneaked around behind our backs but because this girl was suffering from terrible migraines from not enough sleep and he was keeping her up at night!  How freakin’ selfish is THAT!  I couldn’t believe he would be such a tool!  We started imposing limits on Oldest Son and things have been haywire ever since.

Since Oldest Son works on sheer impulse he cannot (will not?) articulate exactly what’s going on with him.  Is he triggered?  Is he scared of something?  We cannot help him, because we don’t know what the problem is.  When we ask him he either denies the problem, or says he doesn’t know.  In fact he tends to give his patented ‘feel sorry for me, I used to be a foster kid’ hang-dogged expression and that pisses me off.

So we’re now at a point where something has to give.  We’ve taken his cell phone from him entirely because of the lying.  He was sort of forced to reckon with the girlfriend and gave her a commitment to contact her twice a week (because he simply stopped since he couldn’t have a cell phone) and he doesn’t even do that.  We found a hole that was carefully cut out of the wall in his closet that contained knives and other hoard-y things.  He denies making it (which is ridiculous).  We are finding gum stuck under furniture, inside lamps…the speakers of his stereo have been taken apart so he can stash things there.  We found a screwdriver shoved up under the top bunk (Oldest Son sleeps on the lower).  We have heard reports about more knives had by Oldest Son but can’t find them yet.  What in the world is going on with this kid.  His behavior is so bizarre!!  This past week he has done two profoundly stupid things at work and has gotten himself written up.  My husband speculates that Oldest will not be able to hold on to management position if things continue this way.

The most pressing issue is that he’s roughed up two of his younger brothers.  Vale said something to him that set him off and he knocked Vale to the ground and had him pinned there.  Oldest Son seemed visibly upset, he wept profusely, when he realized what he had done, for he is easily twice Vale’s size.  And the truly sad thing is that his repentance is questioned by me (because he wept on Vale, the injured party, seeking comfort from him).  Is it an act?  Then a week later he roughed up Youngest Son and put him up against a wall because Youngest Son told us something that got Oldest Son in trouble and Oldest Son was trying to get Youngest to say he was lying.  Nice huh?  Treason in the family, for me, is close to an unpardonable sin.

The family is at odds with Oldest Son.  With the exception of Vale, none of the kids want him around.  Oddly, even though Oldest as hurt Vale directly the most, Vale is the most gracious.  Payne wants him gone, but then again Payne is hard on people.  They don’t want him in family therapy.  They don’t want him coming on outings with us.  Honestly, he has the day off and I dread having him around all day.  And I hate, hate, hate feeling like that about my son!!!

Husband and I are at a loss.  How do you discipline a 20 yr old.  He goes no where.  He hasn’t seen his girl in a month or two, because he can’t get through one single week without lying.  He has nothing to take away.  We’ve tried talking to him, but since we can’t believe anything he says and he doesn’t try to think about why he is behaving this way, you can’t help.  It’s craziness!  I’m afraid that the options are this: either get professional help, or you have to get out. This kills me!  Oldest has such incredible potential.  He has charisma and compassion that could touch thousands.  I can see this kid working at a Christian Camp and touching young lives with his story.  So often kids come to these camps and don’t feel like they can relate to the staff because a lot of the time the staff grew up on Christian homes.  But Oldest Son could relate, and make them feel heard.  He could do so much good.  Why does he continue to live as though he’s in the jungle somewhere and it’s every man for himself?  Why does he choose a life he so vehemently fought to get away from?  Any thoughts?  Please comment, we could certainly use some insight or ideas.

A Mind Lost, Part 1

My oldest one.  He’s 20.  I think he may have gone mad.

Just a little back ground.  We adopted our oldest when he was 16 yrs old, and he came to live with us just shy of his 15th birthday.  Everyone thought he was the most amazing kid, growing up as he did…

Okay, quick aside, he just literally left for work.  Almost late.  Again.  He had his socks in his hands and his shoes on his feet.

Me: Why are you putting dirty socks in your pocket?

Him: They’re not dirty, they’re my socks

Me: Why aren’t they on your feet?

Him: I can put them on when I get to work.

Me: Why don’t you put them on NOW?

Him: Because I have to get going!
You got to understand, he’s the opening manager for the store, a quick service restaurant.  The manager.  Who won’t even have his socks on when he get’s to work.  Yesterday when he left for work he used the toilet, didn’t flush, didn’t wash his hands, didn’t brush his teeth.  And he’s a restaurant manager. *shakes head*

Back to my story…amazing child who grew up with one crappy childhood.  Constant truancy, mom always trying to be under the radar, homeless, living with various creepy people, being shipped off with creepy people, oh and did I mention a victim of incest?  Yeah, bio-daddy is still serving in the state pen, the sick freak.  You couldn’t help be totally in love with this kid.  He was good with the other children, (although Vale did not like him when he first arrived at the house.  Oldest Son was the same age as Vale’s perp though, it’s no wonder) helpful around the house, and most of all he wanted to overcome his past and have a new life.  How could you not want to be part of that.

Oldest Son has always had his problems, what foster kid doesn’t.  What sexually abused child doesn’t?  We didn’t have him in therapy because he had been in and out of therapy for the past 6 years and was sick to death of it.  He was also very over medicated when he came, so we helped him down off all those pharmaceuticals, with the aid of our doctor of course, and tried to let him live as close to a normal childhood as possible with the few years he had left.  Some of Oldest Son’s issues were unrealistic self-reliance (thought he knew everything), hoarding and lying.  He lied a lot.  He also had huge educational deficits from the 8 ears of academic free wheeling his mother did.  So like any other good adoptive parent, we threw ourselves into this kid and gave him our all.  We home educated him via virtual charter school to ensure he got the remediation he needed, I learned all about the special education laws in our state and hand crafted an IEP for him, spent 16 hours a day on school his freshman year because he didn’t know how to write a paper to save his life, provided structure, discipline, balance and a ton of love.

We gave him two very solid years of support and focused a large amount of our attention and effort solely on him.  Then Payne broke her back and a series of events outside our control rained down on us.  I simply couldn’t devote the time I previously had on Oldest Son, but hey, that’s how things roll in a family.  Oldest Son started to slip, not taking responsibility for himself, holding himself accountable, grades were sliding (maybe incrementally shutting down?).  By the time he graduated from high school we were questioning if that was a reality for him because he was failing one of his courses.  He spent the majority of his school day just playing games.  All that lust for life and drive for the better seemed to be gone.  We saw a 19-year-old who had no drive, no ambition and no desire to grow up.  He had some nebulous plans, but nothing solid and no real game plan to achieve them.  Oldest Son is like water, seeking the path of least resistance, going with the flow, no substance.  This was probably an excellent survival skill when in foster care, but it’s no way to live.  And if you ask him why he makes these types of choices the answer is the same, “I don’t know” and you know what, I really think he doesn’t.  I don’t think he has one single thought about himself or his future, besides basic survival skills.

Fast forward a little bit.  It’s January, and Oldest Son still hasn’t made an effort to join the world of productive adults.  Oh, he works, but just enough to say he works.  It’s not like he’s striving for achievement or bettering himself.  No college applications, no effort to move ahead.. or even along.  Oldest Son starts seeing this girl.  Now this girl is lovely and we like her very much and we were happy for him.  He seemed like his old self, wanting to learn and grow and be guided by us.  Aha we think…maybe this is the key.  Maybe Oldest Son won’t motivate himself for improvement for himself, but surely he will do so for this girl!  He’ll want to be a better man for her!  And it appeared that our assumption was correct.

And then Vale disclosed.

Always there…

After disclosing to the Captain he really only had one question, “why now?” meaning, since the assault happened at least 6 years ago, why is the fallout happening now.  I gave him my typical answer of how the cutting began, but I really started thinking about that question.  And I am beginning to believe the true answer, the more correct one, is that Vale’s been trying to tell us for years, we just couldn’t hear him.

~Initially, the county’s records state that Vale was well behaved at his foster home, yet after about a year his behavior disintegrated and he was eventually removed from the home for being defiant.  He was telling us then.

~The county’s records state, literally, that Vale’s behavior was “like an animal” when he would come to visitation.  He was telling us then.

~When he came to live here, he was so out of control that meal time was like a circus.  He couldn’t sit still, he bullied my homegrown children and was a real handful.  He was telling us then.

~ Within one month’s time, Vale’s behavior changed so much that his social worker asked us ‘what did you do to him’ because he was calm and more in control in family visitation.  Red flags should have gone off right there because he was trying to tell us then.

~ Vale was always destructive: would puncture aluminum cans just to hear the pop, tried to build a bomb in our garage, would stop up the urinals in school just to make them overflow.  Caught playing with fire in his uncle’s bathroom.  He was telling us then.

~ We discovered some really odd behavior in Vale over the years which made us wonder if we were raising a predator.  Why in the world didn’t we see it, because he was desperately trying to tell us then!

So.  Finally, after trying to tell us for 6+ years and in desperation, he wrote it loud and clear for everyone to hear on his arms.  No mistaking it now is there?  Even then we didn’t get, it took awhile, and he became so discouraged he stopped eating.  

So Captain, my answer was wrong, but so was your question.  In the end, the question shouldn’t be, ‘why did he start acting out now’, the real question is why weren’t we listening earlier?

Easter

Oh yes, Easter was an interesting day.  To say it was vastly non typical for us.. yeah, well it was.  Due to the fact that we’re Polish, not to mention our belief in Jesus Christ and His resurrection from the dead, Easter tends to be a big holiday for us.  I make two different types of bread and assemble this special Easter basket that the contents are used for our breakfast.  Ordinarily I love it, because you don’t have all the hustle and bustle and pressure of huge expectations like you may have at Christmas time.  And the breakfast basket truly keeps your focus on the true meanings of the holiday and what we’re really celebrating… sorry bunny, but it ain’t you.

This year the entire family is just so tired that we postponed all that traditional stuff for a bit.  We just weren’t up for the whole thing.  We still went to church and celebrated the risen Saviour, just without all the typical tapings that we associate with it.  Thought that would make Easter more low key and enjoyable.  Yea, not so much.

We decided that since we weren’t doing our traditional thing, that we would go to Sunrise Service at the church, go out to breakfast with the church family and go to regular Sunday School and Morning Service afterward.  Any of you who have been following this blog can probably spot the errors of my ways already.  Honestly, I have NO idea what I was thinking, and why I didn’t pick up on what a challenging if not altogether bad idea this was.  I, in essence, combined 3 of Vales bigger stressors: eating in public, church and peers.  I didn’t even think about it until we were walking into the restaurant.

Inadvertently we were seated at the head table, which made Vale feel even more conspicuous, even though in reality he was not.  There were about 40 of us there and each spot had a serrated steak knife.  As soon as I saw them I started to panic, and it was like Vale could read my mind when he said, “How will you keep count of all of these?”  I perceived that as a threat.  The meal was not going to go well.

Vale did eat a modest amount of food, but his anxiety was so high you could almost smell it on him.  He was silent, easily irritated, his eyes darting back and forth and his back was shaped like a comma.  At one point our pastor’s wife asked him how he enjoyed his breakfast (innocuous question, right?).  He responded with a wide eyed stare.  I just couldn’t talk him down from the anxiety, and I’m sure some of that was due to my own level of anxiety.  I knew he was so uncomfortable and how in the WORLD was I going to keep track of all of those #*$@ knives!!!

The meal ended and we did go back to church, but nothing with the rest of the day went smoothly.  Vale was so upset he became defiant and ‘forgot’ his sport coat at home, among other things.  Because of the knife comment, and his high level of anxiety, I felt that we needed to ensure that Vale didn’t grab a knife which meant a search which is never pleasant, for any of us (I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!!). After Morning Service 7 of the 8 of us just went to bed without eating any lunch.  Evening Service was just not going to happen, so we ordered in some pizza and chilled with a movie. I think.  You know what…I don’t even fully remember.

Hopefully our postponed day of Easter traditions-a-gogo will go better.

Irregardless, Christ still rose and is still our Savior.  Thank God nothing we did will ever change that fact.

Family Art Therapy

Yesterday at family art therapy, the therapist asked us to draw an abstract about our family.  Each of us grabbed some crayons or markers and went to work.  It turned out, for the most part, 5 of the 6 family members there drew somewhat the same thing; symbolic representations of each family member.  I actually inserted my version of it below.  It’s my thoughts on each family member colored in their favorite color.  I wanted to show that although we’re all different, we’re still connected, like a jigsaw puzzle.

The top row:  My husband (encompassing), 2nd daughter (flowers, sweetness), 3rd son (lego block), Vale (buildings/architecture

Bottom row: Me (wounded heart), oldest son (nebulous like water), youngest son (wheels/always in motion), Payne (a book)

Yeah, I’m not much of an artist.

However, Vale’s younger brother seemed to tell more of the truth with his.  He drew his oldest brother off to the side, torn away from the family, hand out resisting us.  That’s how the oldest son is right now.  In the lower portion you can see me having 7 arms out, supporting the entire family, while my husband is depicted by a brain (upper left corner).  Near the bottom is Vale, being pulled down by two demons: Self Mutilation - he’s the fat one with the pitchfork and Eating Disorder - which is the skinny one.  Vale is shown struggling against them, pulling himself out of a pit.  The artist is the second block from the left on the top row (again Lego, and the word School is in fire, cuz he doesn’t like school).  Artist and his two sisters are holding up CTY for Center for Talented Youth, a program they all belong to.

Anyway, of all our drawings, I like this one the best.  It really demonstrates what’s going on in this child’s heart and mind.  It’s sad to see him depict the oldest brother torn away, but I am relieved to see that he drew Vale rising out of the pit.

What are your thoughts?

Fallout: Sleep (or the lack thereof) pt. 2

Why write a second post on the lack of sleep?  There is a different level for the lack of sleep I experience.  I’m not trying to say that mine is worse or better than any other member of the family, but if I could compare the lack of sleep to Dante’s vision of Hell, my lack is spiraled down lower in the descending rings.  To say it’s only my quality of sleep that is impacted would be a gross understatement.

I’m tired.  I need sleep so badly.  But I just don’t want to sleep.  I know when I go to bed I will fight with falling asleep, fight with staying asleep and fight while I am asleep.  And then there’s the fight I face when I wake up.  The other night I popped an Ambien and died in my bed.  After waking approximately 5 hours later I woke feeling refreshed, thinking that I had a good and full night sleep at last.  I couldn’t believe it that I thought I had succeeded with only 5 hours.  That’s where my sleep pattern has disintegrated to.  

Most days I long for sleep so badly by 1:00 in the afternoon, and not know how in the world I’m going to make it through supper time.  But what choice do you have when you’re the mom?  Take a nap?  I wish.  Who would make supper, ensure the children finish their schooling, manage the anxiety that would be within Vale as I rested and keep him safe?  That lot falls completely to me.

And of course, the last enemy of my sleep is fear ~ fear that plays out in one of two ways; either by keeping me awake or by bringing vivid nightmares.  My sleep is so light that every movement within the house wakes me with a start…’is that Vale wondering through the house?  Is he going down stairs?  Is he in the bathroom?’  That can happen several times a night.  And the nightmares?  Wes Craven could only wish he could get that creative.  Every single unmentioned worry, every seed of dug deep dread would take root and flower in my sleep.  Every sense would be involved in imagining; I could hear the rope pulled taught.  Feel the cold rain on my face.  Smell the acrid dankness in his clothing, the copper in his blood.  Taste acid in my mouth.  The horror entrenches itself so solidly, mere waking doesn’t disgorge it.

I need to sleep.  But I just. CAN’T.

Fallout: Sleep (or the lack thereof) pt.1

One of our most pressing problems is the lack of sleep.  We are one of the most tired families I know.  Sleep is a major problem around here.  No one is getting enough of it.

Sleep is affected by trauma, at least in our experience, in many ways.  Anxiety is running rampant around this place.  The anxiety is played out in a number of different ways, but mostly in distractability; either by not being able to be distracted by the trauma or by using various means to distract oneself.  So we have kids that are highly focused on Vale and his needs and can’t sleep because they are worried about him and we have kids who are trying to deal with things by becoming obsessed with other things.  Vale’s youngest sister is totally into Les Miserable right now.  She read the book, is trying to memorize the music, it’s a constant companion to her.  But all this obsessing distresses her sleep.  

Couple this with nightmares which seem to be like a virus throughout the house.  They bring the stress of the day into our dreams.  It makes the strain almost inescapable.  Some of the children have reoccurring and vivid dreams that they can’t shake in the daytime.  Thus, even though the children are very tired and need to sleep, they don’t want to, because they know what awaits them.

Now anyone who’s ever experienced lack of sleep or been around people who aren’t sleeping well, you know what follows; contentiousness, augmentative behavior, short tempered, lack of patience, tears, etc.  So we have moments of really petty fighting which wears everyone down.  People don’t have the wherewithal to resist bickering and people don’t have the wherewithal to not bicker back.

As a mother, I don’t know what to do about this problem.  I can put the family to bed early, try to make sure they sleep in as much as they can.  Try to provide comfort and reassurance during the day, hugs and kisses when they need them throughout the night.  But I can’t reach in and turn off their minds.  I can’t remove the problem.  Some days I can almost hear the creaking of the walls as stress bears a load more than they were build to sustain.  All I can do is pray, stay steadfast in the knowledge that God will provide the strength for each day, and do my best to reinforce those walls when I see the plaster crack.  But, I’m really tired too.

Fallout: The whole family

As I begin this series on fallout, I think the very first thing I would like to point out is that it affects *everyone*.  I find that it is one of the biggest misconceptions people on the outside have is that this trauma is just impacting Vale and his parents.  That is so ridiculous!  How could we possibly keep such a thing contained to just a few people when we live together?  It escapes me how narrow some people’s understanding is.

Before I go any further, allow me to sketch in a little more about our family.  We are a family of 8: 2 parental figures and 6 kids:



  • 43 yr old Mom (me!) stay at home, homeschools
  • 43 yr old Dad, works full time (and then some) managing a restaurant
  • 20 yr old male (adopted ~ out of high school)
  • 14 yr old female (Payne) 
  • 14 yr old male (Vale ~ he’s 6 months younger than Payne) (adopted)
  • 13 yr old male
  • 11 yr old female
  • 10 yr old male (adopted)

When a child discloses that he or she was sexually abused, had an eating disorder, is struggling with self mutilation, or in our case all three, there is no way to to restrict that revelation to just 2 or 3 people.  As you will see in my next few posts on fallout, the pain your child is going through is going to touch every area of your life.  How can you say, “No we aren’t going to use that swimming pass you got for your Christmas present right now, but I’m not going to explain why” (true to life scenario in our family ~ swimming would mean Vale would have to expose his arms, something he is only just starting to do).

Routines change, schedules change, attentions shift, strain is visible on our parental faces.  How in the world could this not trickle down on every member?  We are together almost all the time.  We are one of those odd families that eats dinner together 6 nights out of 7.  We like being together, and being a family means we share: joys and heartaches, successes and failures, traumas and triumphs.  Or more importantly, should it not trickle down to every member?  What would be be sparing the younger ones of?  Difficulty?  Pain?  Fear?  Isn’t the human existence riddled with these?  Yes we do shelter the youngest members from the worst of it and try to make all information age appropriate, but shutting them out would cause more distress in my opinion.  They’re not stupid, they can see things happening in the house.  Even with the most clandestine of trauma management, the most whispered of conversation, there is a strained vibration in the house, and not one child would miss that.

I guess every family needs to figure out what’s best for them and how to share information around with other members, but I think that you’ll find that trying to keep things a secret will be more time consuming and energy sapping than you could imagine. Fallout is going to happen. Some days it’s not a big deal, some days it will send you sprawling. Everyone is going to have to stick together.

A favorite

No.. it’s not a post about fallout, like I said I was going to write.. still going to do this.  But I thought I would post something slightly different.

Vale and his “twin” Payne are close.  The twin is in quotes because they aren’t really twins.  Vale was adopted, Payne is homegrown.  They are a little less than 6 months apart.  But they do look a like, and they are very similar in personality.  Payne has been exceptionally supportive of Vale.  

So yesterday, after going on a very long walk with Payne, Vale asks me, “Is it wrong to have a favorite sibling?”   I laughed.  I assured him it was not, as long as his favor doesn’t exclude everyone else.  In fact Vale may find that Payne is his favorite sibling to share troubles and secrets with, but if he wants to go to the ballgame, Payne ain’t the gal for him.  Vale has 5 siblings, he may find that all of his siblings are a favorite for something.

What I think is so neat about Vale and Payne is that both of them have personalities lend themselves to being more closed, more stoic.  These are both children of trauma.  No, Payne wasn’t raped, but she has a lot of physical problems.  She went through two years where she was forced to her knees by a pain syndrome called Reflex Neurovascular Dystrophy.  It took a long time to diagnose, and it was brutal to treat.  She will always have it has a partner in her life.  So, although it is not the same, Payne understands what it means to suffer.  And her quiet, steadfast sometimes intrusive devotion to Vale makes this journey a little easier. 

You know what’s ironic?  I think Payne is helping Vale to heal… but I think he’s helping her to heal too.

What about the fallout

I want to write a series of posts on fallout.  To my surprise, so few people understand what lies in the aftermath of sexual abuse.  I guess they see it as one and done or something.  ”Boo hoo, have a little cry then back to life has normal” and I can’t think of an idea that is further from the truth.  It still hits me for a loop when we encounter something that is seemingly so innocuous, but due to fall out it becomes a problem.  Going to a restaurant, simple phrases people toss out, being at Chuck E Cheese for crying out loud!  These have all become somewhat of a situation due to the consequences of a traumatic event.

As always, I have other survivors and especially parents of survivors out there in mind when I write my blog entries.  No two circumstances are exactly alike, I realize that.  So there will never be anyone else who visits this blog and experiences all the same things as we do.  But when they read a post about something that seems so random yet impacts so hard perhaps they will feel like, “yeah!  Something like that happened to us too!”  Because outside of trauma real uh… normal.. um, .. regular… *darn*…non traumatized people (?) couldn’t relate.  We have our own weird little sub culture, I guess.  But we aren’t alone, are we.

The way you lie..

On the first page of our story (placement)
The future seemed so bright  (adoption)
Then this thing turned out so evil  (disclosure)
I don’t know why i’m still surprised
Even angels have their wicked schemes
(And things have gone) to new extremes
Vale, you’ll always be my hero
Even though you’ve lost your mind

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that’s alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that’s alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

For our sons…

I have a son.  I have 4 actually, but this blog centers around just one.  He is beautiful.  He is 14.  He’s artistic and funny.  He’s athletic and intelligent.  He’s an overcomer and strong.  He was formerly in foster care.  He is adopted.  He is also a cutter.  He is trying to starve himself.  He is depressed and suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.  He is a victim of sexual abuse.  He is in crisis.

About 4 weeks ago, much of this broke.  I didn’t know about the cutting.  I saw him being less hungry, but I thought it was just a natural ebb and flow of eating that children had.  I had no idea he had lost so much weight.  The realization hits like sucker punch to the solar plexus.  Don’t think I still have my air back.  I dealt with it initially by breaking some plates, however over time, another way of coping had to come because we can’t afford new plates every week.

So I did some web searches for blogs of moms of sons in this dilemma, and I found nothing.  What I did find is some outdated statistics and erroneous information such as the notion that these issues are only girl issues.  I found that boys are notoriously underreported when it comes to eating disorders or self harming.  I learned that boys who are sexually brutalized are actually shamed into silence. Well we just can’t have this now can we.  Hence this blog.



No, I won’t share my son’s name, or his image.  There is still far too much stigma in the world for that much honesty.  I’m not going to have him thrown on a proverbial sword in order to break out of some of these taboos.  Maybe one day, when he’s older and has gone from victim to survivor he’ll write a blog of his own.  But until then, we’ll call him Vale.