The Accidental Advocate

Because I am his Mom.

2011-10-10T15:09:00.000-05:00

Disclosure: (Imagine this part in tiny little print like official words are.)

This article is not written to any particular person. If you are a mental health professional or an educator or a doctor or a social worker or anyone else serving one of my sons, do not assume I am talking about you on the internet. I would tell you to your face first. I'm pretty direct that way. However, if you are one such professional working with one of my sons or someone else's kid, I would appreciate it if you would read this. Several times. And give it serious consideration. Hopefully, I can change your perspective and shed some light on some questions that I am asked on a fairly regular basis. Thank you very much for your time and attention.

Got that out of the way.

Here we go.

I am my son's Mom. It's a role I take pretty seriously. It is my greatest privilege. It is my highest priority. It is my greatest blessing. I'm his Mom and I am going to be his Mom for the rest of my life. I am the one who will be there long after you are gone. So believe me when I tell you...

...I know that kid better than anyone else.

Except God. Since He is the one who created him.

Since my son moved into my home we haven't always had an easy time. It hasn't been all butterflies and sparkily cupcakes. But one thing is certain. I know who my son is. I can see right through all of his behavior and his trauma and his big disrespectful mouth right to his heart. And I see good there. I believe that God Himself showed that good to me so I could show it to you. I am determined to get you to see it too. And I will not waiver in my determination.

As long as you are dealing with my son (or anyone else's, since I am confident enough in my position to speak for my friends and their children too), please be respectful of what he has experienced and survived. Please be mindful of any diagnosis that might complicate things further. Be aware that my son lives with significant skill deficits compared to his peers. He might be a chronological adult, but that does not mean he can manage a task that another young man his age could handle easily.

Please keep all these statements in mind when you write to me or call me frustrated with some behavior. Don't be surprised when I remind you that my son is not "just the age when a kid thinks he knows everything". He is not "trying to use his disability to get one over on you". Please do not conclude that he is simply lazy or unmotivated (he might be--but there is more to it than that). If you and I find ourselves in this situation and you've made some of these conclusions, please do not assume that I am going to completely agree with your assessment of the situation and be on my merry way. It will never happen.

I am my son's Mom.

I am the one who has taken these calls from everyone who has ever worked with him. I am the one who found him in undesirable circumstances and promised him a better life. I am the one who sat at the dinner table one night and listened in horror as he told me all the things that happened to him because he finally felt safe enough to talk. I am the one whose heart breaks for all he endured and survived. I am the one who fought for him. I am the one who knows how far he has come.

It is my role to question and to enlighten your perspective. I expect you to be frustrated with my response. I'm used to being asked, "Why do you always make excuses for him?" when I bring up the subject of past trauma as a cause for current behavior. I expect you to say, "You are really not doing him any favors by sheltering him from accountability." when I suggest a consequence that makes sense given my son's skill deficits. I expect you to be angry. I've gotten used to all this. It doesn't change what is.

My son is not easy to work with. You have to want to be committed. But there is a reward. There is gold in that kid. Your role is to find it and bring it out. My role is to help you see it. I've got big enough shoulders to take your criticism.

"Which son are you referring to?" You ask.

Either one of them.

Forever.

Because I am their Mom.

Mental Health Care: Here's why it matters.

2011-07-19T06:11:00.006-05:00

Recently, there have been stories all around me that underscore the need for mental health treatment for kids. This story is one example. A 17 year-old boy steals his mother's car, drives several hours and murders two people in cold blood. At his trial, his mother testified about years and years of seeking help and about being denied the help she knew her son desperately needed. In one article she talked about having to put all the household knives away when her son was a toddler. As an adolescent, the boy only received about ten days of residential treatment before his private insurance ran out. Ten days. Although the Juvenile Justice system has several opportunities to order treatment for this young man, somehow he kept being returned home.

Hope is not a plan.

While it absolutely has a place in our lives, hope itself is not a plan for treatment or recovery. Mental illness is real and it requires treatment. And that treatment is expensive and difficult to obtain. Presently in Minnesota, there are about 50 Child Psychiatrists. That's it. In my experience, it is not uncommon to wait 3 months for an appointment. Yes, there are emergency appointments--but you have to know to ask for them and the fact that they exist is not common knowledge.

In the spring of 2006, my Younger Kid experienced the onset of a serious mood disorder. I knew the exact day that something was different. I can pinpoint the hour. It was just after lunch on April 19, 2006. He was playing a game of football, one of the teachers became concerned about the level of intensity in the game and put his hand on my son and my son took the teacher to the ground and injured him.

I have written about the hospitalization that followed--my first attempt to find treatment for my Younger Kid. As my son's mother, I knew that something was different. I knew he was going through something new. I knew it was serious, dangerous and absolutely real. While seeking treatment, we ran into one roadblock after another. There is not a clear treatment plan. If it were a broken bone or a serious physical injury, doctors know what to do with that. They know exactly how to heal that. But, in the case of mental illness, every brain is different. It takes several tries to find the right medication.

On top of that, we faced difficulty from the community. My husband and I knew we would need support beyond our home if we were going to see our son successfully reach 18. We contacted our county and asked to open a children's mental health case. We worked with the school to create a behavior support plan for our son. We utilized the county's crisis response line and we called the police when we needed to. Sadly, there were many times when the community response to our call for help was less than helpful. I remember calling the crisis number and being asked, "What do you want us to do? You are the parent." Yes. I am the parent of a child raging against me, violently attacking me and the rest of my family! That is a crisis. I remember one police officer walking away from me shaking his head and saying, "I sure hope you figure out what you're going to do with this kid."

But Sir, hope is not a plan. We needed help.

April 19, 2006 is the day my son started displaying symptoms of a serious mental illness. During the next 14 months, he was hospitalized 5 times. He stayed in the hospital for 20-30 days each time. He was arrested twice. He spent two 72 hour stretches in the custody of police. He spent 60 days in a group home. I don't know how many times we called the police for assistance and I don't know how many times we went to court. During those months our family was held hostage by mental illness. On May 23, 2007, after driving away while my kid chased us down the road, I called my son's doctor--Dr. Joel Oberstar--and left a desperate and tearful message. "I can't live with Younger Kid for one more day. He needs treatment. Please help us." When he called back, Dr. Oberstar said, "Bring him to the hospital. I'm going to take care of this."

Dr. Oberstar got Younger Kid into treatment. He is one of a handful of professionals who committed to our son and helped our family. Younger Kid spent almost two years in residential treatment and a total of 43 months in out of home placements before his 18th birthday. Without that help, I'm afraid to think about what might have happened.

"Don't all kids do that?"

Sometimes the community misunderstands mental illness. A parent can describe some crisis that's taken place in their home and a well meaning friend or relative says something like, "Don't all kids do that?"

And it's true. Raising kids is not easy. But it's the intensity and the duration of the behaviors that sets a kid with mental illness apart. All kids do try to separate themselves from their parents. But not all kids try to jump out of the car on the highway. All kids do feel sad and even experience depression after breaking up with their first love. But not all kids take 400 Tylenol. All kids are mouthy and disrespectful sometimes. But not all kids call their mother "stupid fucking bitch" 50 times a day for months and months. All kids have difficulty and act outrageously sometimes to get their parent's attention. But not all kids light things on fire or throw dishes through patio doors or break their dad's fingers. Our family's challenge was not the typical behavior response, but the intensity and duration of that response.

My Younger Kid lives an almost "normal" life today because of the treatment and support he received from the professionals who committed to him. When I read stories like the one at the beginning of this post, I say a prayer of thanks for my son's doctor, his social worker, his therapist and the residential treatment staff. They saved Younger Kid's life. Who knows how many other lives they may have saved.

It's an investment.

Many times over the years, while navigating the mental health system of care, I have begged and insisted "please invest in my son now." He is worth the investment. He is a good person with a good heart. He has an illness. He didn't choose it. It's not his fault. He can't simply make a better choice without the help of medication and therapy. Structure and a firm hand is not going to fix it. Neither is a sticker chart. Kids who live with mental illness need treatment. Not ten days of treatment. But, as much as it takes. And whatever it costs, I can assure you that it's less than a life in prison.

"A nation's greatness is measured by how it treats it's weakest members."

~Mahatma Ghandi

In the midst of government shutdown, budget cuts, no new taxes and financial crisis, I cannot think of something more important than mental health care. Yet, I fear that decision makers may not know the value of this type of care. If you have a story like mine, call your legislator and share it. Let the policy makers know how important mental health care is to our society.

"look for the gold"

2011-07-06T20:16:00.007-05:00

Picture two adoptive families. Both adopted older children from foster care. Both sets of parents educated themselves on the process and felt confident they could manage what they were taking on.

Family #1 adopted two boys about 7 years ago. Since moving home,

both boys have graduated from high school.
one has a job in management.
one works with the adoptive dad in the family business.
one is a gifted athlete.
one inspired a huge fundraising effort benefiting kids in foster care when he shared his story with his classmates.
both boys have received treatment and therapy and have responded reasonably well.
both boys have more good days than bad days.
both boys are sensitive with good hearts and good intentions.

Family #2 also adopted two boys about 7 years ago. Since moving home,

the boys have experienced a dozen hospitalizations between them.
one son developed a serious mood disorder.
one son almost died after a suicide attempt.
both boys have been arrested. One has plead guilty to assault 3 times.
both boys struggled mightily in school-one academically and one with his behavior.
both boys struggle with relationships and finding their place within the family and the community.
both boys have lived at home with the family and in various out of home placements including a correctional setting and residential treatment.

I shared this story of two families recently with a group of parents and asked what thoughts came to mind. I received answers like, "I sure hope I never find myself in family #2." and "What did the first family do that the second family didn't?" One parent asked me if these families were even real or did I make them up? Certainly there could not be two real families so similar with such extreme differences.

I took a deep breath and asked the following:

Would it surprise you to learn that these are not two different families but the same family?

There was silence and mouths were open.

So, I took another deep breath. My hands were shaking so I folded them tightly in my lap where no one could see. With a quiet voice I asked:

Would it surprise you to learn that these are both my family?

Then I took a few sips of my water while the group caught up with me.

I explained that I was neither bragging or complaining. I'm not looking for sympathy or accolades. I understood that I was brought to that group to tell my story as a disclaimer. A here's what could happen in the worst case type of scenario. And it's not that simple. Families are complicated. Any kid can be painted as a success story or a cautionary tale. It just depends on how you look at it.

Choose to be like one dad who said, "I look for the gold in my kid and that's what I focus on. He messes up-and I just keep looking at the gold."

There is always gold in our kids if we look hard enough to find it. Sometimes we have to want to see it. Sometimes we need to see it in order to survive all the trauma mud that the gold is buried in. In all cases, looking for the gold can get a parent through some of the tougher days.

Happy gold hunting to you today, Friend.

Not for nothing

2011-07-06T06:05:00.005-05:00

Paul Buckley is a therapist who used to work with my boys. I have written about him before-back in the early days of the blog. I always referred to him as the "Yes, just as soon as..." therapist. Paul teaches strategies for dealing with behaviors--and he is funny. That's a bonus because we weren't laughing enough in our household back then. I remember the day Paul told me we could consider it a successful day if we could go to bed and say no one was hospitalized or incarcerated. And you know that the day came when I had to call Paul and say "one is hospitalized and one is incarcerated." He told my husband and me to go to dinner.

Paul said a lot of things I won't forget. One in particular stands out. I must have been having one of those days. You know the one. The I'm overwhelmed and tired and I just can't picture a successful outcome kind of day. Those are dangerous feelings to have. As a parent, once I had those feelings it wasn't a long leap to thoughts like What am I doing this for? All my effort is wasted anyway because my kids are headed right for homelessness or incarceration or drug addiction or some combination of all three! I wanted to save a child from that type of life and look at what a great job I'm doing! What's the value of everything our family has gone through to help these boys? Is it all for nothing??

Have you been there? Are you there right now? I'm sure I said something like this to Paul the day he looked at me and said, "You're saving their lives Lynne. It's not going to be easy."

A few years later when Younger Kid was in residential treatment, I shared similar feelings with Rachel, our family's therapist. Rachel is thoughtful and caring and very smart. She is a wonderful listener. She listened to all of my overwhelmed it's all for nothing anyway talk and she said, "I don't think so."

Rachel said that my husband and I had given our boys something that no one could ever take from them. Because of us, Older Kid and Younger Kid knew what it was to be part of a loving family. They understood what commitment was and how it felt to be fought for. Rachel cautioned me not to look at the situation in an all or nothing way. "It can't be all or nothing because what you have given your boys cannot be measured."

Rachel and I had several discussions like this one over the years. It took more than one time for these truths to sink into my brain so I could believe them.

If you are a parent like me, give yourself a break today. You are not responsible for the outcome of your child's life. Your job is to give that child skills that will help him become the most successful adult he can be. And the most successful adult he can be might include drug use or homelessness or incarceration. We hope not, but we don't get to control that reality. Take in these truths--

"You're saving their lives. It's not going to be easy."

"What you've given your boys cannot be measured."

Remember that you are doing everything right. You are stronger than you realize and your commitment is inspiring. I'm proud to be your friend.

It's just a fact.

2011-05-27T06:33:00.009-05:00

Trauma.

What do you think of when you hear that word? If you are a parent like me, the word "trauma" brings up feelings ranging from sadness to frustration to anger and and back. If you are a parent like me, you've probably seen your children struggle to behave appropriately and make good choices. In our family's case, I have always been able to tie current behavior back to the trauma my kids survived in their early life. It's not a big stretch--to me. Yet too many times while sitting with professionals processing behavior and applying consequences, the subject of trauma is quickly dismissed. "It's an excuse that does not justify his behavior." or "You're not doing your son any favors by reasoning away his consequences." Do these responses sound familliar to anyone else?

I sat on a parent panel with my friend Activist Annie last week. The panel took place at a conference on Trauma. Annie and I were surprised when the conference organizers told us there were 300 professionals in the room and hundreds more watching online. "WOWza!" we said to each other, "We're gonna be famous!" So, we sat in the front of a huge room behind microphones and made our trauma points.

I said that trauma is a fact. It's a fact. Not an excuse. Not a reason. Not a justification. Just a fact. I told a story about my Older Kid. He got into a fight at his apartment. It was bad. My kid did nto make a good choice. And he has paid a high price. Beyond the legal consequences, this choice cost my son his apartment.

It the meeting where the building management gave my kid the boot, I had copies of the police report. I verified through external sources every single thing my kid told me. He didn't lie about anything. (generally he doesn't lie, as he isn't interested in what people think) The police interviewed 4 people involved in the fight. Only my kid mentioned that the victim was "drunk and swinging a bottle around". I don't know if the victim really had a bottle in his hand but I do know that in my Older Kid's early life, he survived significant physical trauma at the hands of drunk caregivers.

This is a fact.

It's not an excuse and it's not a reason. It's a fact. And to dismiss it does not promote healing.

I believe that acknowleging past trauma honors what a kid has survived. It honors his past experience. It does take some time and patience to sit with a young adult and explain why it is wrong to assault another person. We think that's something he should already know. But, in doing so, I have seen my Oldest Son move forward, accept all of his consequences and make better choices.

Healing and recovery is a process. And kids are not going to get it right every time. That's a fact too.

Here's something completely unrelated.

I read a lot of blogs. I love stories from people who live a completely different life from mine. I love blogs because I can catch up on them in five minutes or less and they offer a view into other lifestyles. One of my favorites is Ridiculously Extraordinary by Karol Gajda. Karol, (say Karl) makes his living online and travels around the world doing what he wants to do and writing about it. Right now, Karol is on a tour riding every roller coaster in America! How cool is that? Yesterday, he was at the Mall of America. My Girlie and I went to meet him. We brought him some road trip food and he had an extra wristband which he gave to Girlie. I'm so glad we went. It was fun to meet Karol in person after reading about his adventures.

The Roller Coaster tour is just starting. Check out the map and see if Karol is coming to your neighborhood. You can reach him via Twitter and meet him. If you do, bring him some vegan snacks. You know you're a mom when someone tells you he is driving 13000 miles alone to ride hundreds of coasters and your first thoughts are, "What if you get hungry?" If you see Karol, tell him I said "hi".

My GM

2011-05-18T05:26:00.003-05:00

Many years ago, the very first parent to parent support that I found was on the internet. I wrote on a message board for foster and adoptive parents. One of those parents turned out to be my friend Activist Annie, who has made some appearances in some of my stories on this blog. Another internet friend-a very special person I met online-was Georgia Mommy. I have always called her GM.

I have met GM in person. Our internet friends got together here in my state in 2005. In 2006, our family took a road trip to Florida. We stayed in Georgia for 3 days on the way to Florida and one night on the way home to spend time with GM and her family. My Older Kid turned 16 on that trip. He "fell in love" with one of GM's daughters. Good memories.....

GM and her husband have adopted many children from foster care. They have also claimed foster children as their own. They retired from business at what many would consider an early age, bought a farm and started raising children. "Because raising children is so stress free"~GM joked with me once.

When Older Kid first moved home with us, he really struggled. He made oppositional defiance an art form. He was in and out of our home several times-bouncing between a work camp and a group home. He openly said he didn't want to live with us. I was heart broken. I didn't know much about Reactive Attachment Disorder at that time. I didn't understand the "why" behind all the behavior. I just felt devastated. Via the internet, GM put her loving arms around me and comforted me during those times. She told me "no act of love is ever wasted." She said, "the fact he can't accept your love is a statement about him, not you." I would go to the message board and read and re-read her kind words.

Around the time my Girlie was born, GM was diagnosed with something not good--stage 4. She wasn't given a great prognosis. But, GM is a fighter and she beat it. And she has beat it more than once since then.

Yesterday, GM's husband announced on that old message board that she has just a few days left. And I went to the place where I haven't posted anything for several years and I typed my GM a goodbye. I know it is a privilege to be able to say a goodbye. I didn't get to do that when I lost my little sister. My brain understands that a goodbye is a healing thing. Closure. But, my heart.....my heart breaks for GM, for her husband, for her children and her grandchildren and for everyone who has ever been touched by her good heart and generous nature. And my heart breaks for myself.

My GM, My Sweet Friend~You are an original Drama Mama. I will carry your spirit with me. I promise to pass love and support on to other parents in the same unconditional manner that you gave it to me. I promise that people will remember you. Please don't be afraid, my Friend. Heaven is a good place. A place free of pain and illness. A place where you can have peace and watch over all your family and friends on Earth. I love you, Friend.

On Mother's Day

2011-05-08T10:58:00.004-05:00

I wasn't going to write about it this year.

I wrote about it last year. And I really don't have anything new to say...except this.

For my boys, Mother's Day is a harsh reminder of loss. And they don't talk about it. They do their best to be decent. They struggle. Younger Kid became upset this morning and started in on the wango tango. (That is this fabulous blogger's name for spewing hatred/raging/toxic language and other behaviors that accompany a traumatized child)

"It's ok." I told my kid. "On Mother's Day, I think about her too."

Who?

"Your mom."

It was like all the air coming out of a balloon.

"How can I not think about her?" I asked him. "I hope she is safe. I hope she has peace."

Yeah. Thanks, Mama.

"You're welcome, Son."

The situation is complicated. The emotions are raw and the loss is ever-present. How does a child lose one mother and then accept another one? They are remarkable boys with amazing strength. I'm thankful that I see that. I think a lot of people don't see past the wango tango.

Winner!

2011-04-22T07:48:00.002-05:00

We have a winner! In the interest of disclosure, I will share that I wrote down the names on each comment (or annonymous and a number as appropriate), put the names into a cereal bowl and my Younger Kid (who is home for Easter) drew a winner. We are very meticulous and scientific at our house.

Mama Drama Times Two is the winner of Claudia's new book "A Glimpse of God's Heart". Mama Drama, e mail me at lpbling@gmail.com with your information and I will send your book right away!

Thanks for reading and for the comments. I blog to feel better. Some of our family's "stuff" is difficult and I find that when I write it down and release it into the world, I feel better. I appreciate every single person who reads here. Have a great weekend, Friends!

I will stand by you.

2011-04-20T06:49:00.010-05:00

Last week, I had one of *those* experiences. The kind that really bring a purpose into focus. I was speaking at a residential treatment center. Just two parents showed up. (I never care about numbers. I will speak to one parent or 100. One professional or 1000. Doesn't matter to me.) Because there were just three of us and a therapist, we sat together in chairs. I used my powerpoint--because I have awesome pictures--but it was pretty relaxed. I told my support story, talked about the need for parent education and chatted about laws, rules, policies and procedures. Then I told my binder story. One mom seemed a little quiet that night. I wanted to engage her in the conversation so I asked, "Do you already keep your documents in a binder or do you have another system that works better for you?"

She just looked at me for a moment. When she spoke, her words were as certain as she could make them. She sounded determined and fierce, "I hate those documents," she said, "I am not going to do a thing with them. They say terrible things. I can't wait to throw them away!"

The therapist said nothing. The other parent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I took a breath. The mother exploded into tears. "I'm not like you." she told me, "My kid is going to get better." She was sobbing. "He is going to go to college and have a family and I'm going to be a grandmother someday." She went on to describe all the interventions she has utilized and how she has worked so hard to find treatment for her son. She was certain this treatment was the answer and everything was going to be fine.

It's hard for me to watch someone else cry. Somehow, I did not cry with that mom. I spoke to her softly. "Maybe you are not like me. But, I was just like you." I explained how I always thought whatever we were doing was the elusive answer. One more trip to court, one more hospitalization, one more med change, one stay in residential treatment and then we would be "a normal family". She nodded in unerstanding. I explained that I have learned that for my kid, there are no easy answers. No quick fixes. And I told her that the day I realized that truth was one of the toughest days of my life. I sat in a parent meeting at residential treatment and I realized that the speakers did not have the magic bullet I sought. And I cried. And I cried so much I had to leave the room. No one came after me. I cried for hours after that. I couldn't stop.

And sometime after that, I came to understand that my son's illness is for life. He will learn to manage it. We can treat it. But, I had to accept it. I had to grieve the loss of his typical, easy life. Time has proven he experiences times of stability and times of struggle. It doesn't mean he can't go to college. Maybe he will. It does mean he will need some extra support to be successful. And so will I.

The other mom dried her eyes and quietly said, "Maybe I am like you." Maybe you are.

My role is to support other parents. To be there. To listen. To understand. To say, "You're not alone and somehow, everything is going to be ok."

Take a listen to my new favorite song. "I won't let go" by Rascal Flatts. It's for that mom I met last Thursday night and for all the parents like her.

I will stand by you. I will help you through.

When you've done all you can do. And you can't cope.

I will dry your eyes. I will fight your fight.

I will hold on tight. And I won't let go.

Don't forget about the give away! Claudia Fletcher's new book-"A Glimpse of God's Heart". Leave a comment here to be entered in the drawing. I will announce a winner on Friday.

Give-Away! A Glimpse of God's Heart

2011-04-18T07:31:00.007-05:00

Claudia Fletcher is an adoptive parent who lives in my state. She is also a dedicated adoption professional who spends her days helping match up kids and parents. She is the wife of a Pastor. To say she has a busy life is a radical understatement. Besides her work, Claudia spends her time blogging, writing books and speaking to encourage other parents and train other professionals. You're impressed, aren't you?

How much more impressed are you when I tell you Claudia and her husband, Bart have 12 adopted children. TWELVE! I consider myself blessed to know Claudia in real life. She is funny, intelligent, caring and she has a beautiful heart. Claudia's new book is called, "A Glimpse of God's Heart-How Trying to Change My Kids Changed Me". I have a signed copy for one of you!

This is a wonderful book, written from Claudia's good heart. Weather your children are adopted or biological, you will enjoy Claudia's good humor and insight. This is an easy book to read-it only took me a few days and I am someone who reads for a few minutes here and there when I can.

You can download Claudia's new book here.You can also purchase A Glimpse of God's Heart at Claudia's website Third Degree Parenting. Claudia has written another book as well about how she and her husband acquired their children and how 14 strangers became one family. That book, "Out of Many-One Family" is also available at Third Degree Parenting.

So, you say you want to win? Leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. I will announce a winner this Friday, April 22, 2011.

Happy reading, Friends!!

risky business-when parents must choose control over connection

2011-04-05T06:11:00.005-05:00

A few weeks ago I wrote about choosing connection over control. I was writing about my Older Kid and how I am learning to put some distance between my heart and his choices. He is an adult. He must learn that he is responsible for his actions. I do my best to remind myself that my wisdom and experience are unwanted. With my Older Kid, I choose connection over control. I keep my focus on preserving the relationship we enjoy instead. I don't do it perfectly. Since Older Kid is presently living on my couch, he does occassionally receive *a lecture* the benefits of having an opinionated, bossy mom.

Choosing connection is harder with my Younger Kid. He is 18. An adult. But, he is vulnerable. His illness is significant. My husband and I have guardianship of our youngest son. It's a legal maneuver that allows us to help manage Younger Kid's resources, gives us access to his medical records and allows police to intervene immediately if he is ever missing. You better believe that my kid is resentful of that guardianship. He is an adult, thankyouverymuch. He believes he should be allowed to make all of his own choices. We have at least one conversation a week where I reassure my son that guardianship is only in place to protect him. It is not our intention to control him in any way.

Last Friday, I stepped onto the relationship mine field with my Younger Kid and chose control over connection when I signed him into the hospital. It's not as if I put him there with just my will. He was assessed in the ER and the doctor admitted him. Police had to assist with transportation which required them to see the instability in the kid as well. But, to my son those facts did not matter. In his mind, I was locking him up. In his mind, seeking medical treatment was a form of punishment.

Younger Kid was released yesterday. His stay was short because he quickly complied with med changes and immediately became visibly more stable. He is fine. He is no longer angry with me. He's over it. His moods swing back and forth quickly. That's how he rolls. Later this week, there will be meetings. One to ensure his placement in the group home is secure and another to make sure there is enough support at school for him to be successful. More opportunities to choose control over connection. Yay.

I have a fairly good realtionship with Younger Kid. I love him. He loves me. But, our relationship has taken some big hits (litterally) over the years. One day, I may need to assign his guardianship to a third party to preserve our relationship. I'm not doing it until I have to though. A professional guardian won't know my kid like I do.

Connection or control? Control or connection? This is the dance I do. Do you do it too? What are some times when you've had to choose control?

what crazy looks like

2011-04-02T04:56:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, I sat in the Emergency Room with my youngest son. It was "that" room at the end of the long hallway. The room with cameras and no furnishings. The room with a solid metal door instead of a simple curtain. The room where they put "crazy" when he shows up. A security guard stood about ten feet outside the door. Once in a while, he'd look up with half a smile in an attempt to appear nonchelant, as if it wasn't his job to stand there and be available "just in case".

My son sat uncomfortably on the bed, like he might jump up at any moment. One leg dangled from the side, the other was tucked underneath him. I could see traces of the little boy who came home with us 7 years ago. The thick blond, almost white hair and blue, blue eyes. His baby face long gone-replaced by the face of a handsome man. His smile was mischievious. I realized that I saw him as a mother sees a son. I saw his good heart, his vulnerabilities and his desire to be like everyone else. But, even I could see the differences that illness makes. He did not look like himself. He was a mess. Unshaven, disheveled, unstable. He wasn't happy to be at the hospital. His attitude was one of defiance. The sound of his voice conveyed his desperate desire to remain in control. "I will go back on the med that I hate," he told the doctor. "Just write me the perscription so I can get the hell outta here." The doctor was calm and kind. He sat next to Younger Kid on the bed with his clipboard. "I don't think it's that simple." He replied.

The doctor and I had a short conversation about the events of the past few days. Younger Kid was involved in a fight where someone was hurt. Since the fight, he had behaved defiantly towards his staff and he was even threatening at times. These are all signs of major instability. I shared my belief that my son was not operating in wellness but in illness. His medication was not balanced properly. He was not in his right mind at all. I shared that I knew as soon as I saw my son that we would be hospitalizing him today. "What do you mean?" The doctor asked. "He doesn't look good." I explained, "He looks sick. He doesn't look like himself." I offered documentation of past hospitalizations and behaviors to prove my point. The doctor said it wasn't necessary. Our short conversation was frequently interupted by my son's demands for a new perscription and some lunch.

My youngest son lives with a truck load of mental illness. There are six diagnosis in all and four medications. It doesn't even matter what they are. The diagnosis are just labels that provide access to services and medication. When the medication works, it balances Younger Kid's brain and he is able to function fairly well. A few months ago, Younger Kid requested a change to one of his meds because of some undesirable side effects. Since the med change, my son seemed to short tempered and less able to tollerate frustration. I know what an unstable Younger Kid looks like. I know what he is capable of. His staff does not. They have never seen him unstable. The slight changes I noticed could be easily misinterpreted as a lack of willingness to cooperate.

Yesterday, I hospitalized my youngest son for the 8th time in five years. This is his first hospitalization in 2.5 years. I realize how fortunate we are to have so much support. I'm frightened by how much effort it takes to keep my son from falling through the cracks. His illness is significant. He can be difficult to deal with even when he is operating from a place of wellness and stability. Instability makes Younger Kid almost impossible to manage. Most people walk away.

Thankfully, we have been blessed by amazing, caring, dedicated professionals to help us. People who committed to Younger Kid long ago and who remain committed today. People who keep taking him back, keep supporting him and keep believing in his goodness. People who are willing to be uncomfortable in order to teach my youngest son that he is valuable and worthy of love and belonging. People who fight for him and for our family.

I expect that Younger Kid will always have times when the illness takes over. I have been told that as he matures, these times will likely be fewer and further between. I hope so. His illness is difficult to manage and takes a toll on everyone around him. I can barely imagine what it is like for him to live in his brain during these times.

Crazy is defined as "living with a psychiatric illness". Yesterday, I saw a living definition of that word.

I am sharing this story with the hope that it will promote understanding and help eliminate the stigma that surrounds mental illness. If you think it's helpful, please share this by using the buttons below.

together

2011-03-29T21:36:00.005-05:00

Parent to parent support changed my life. That's not something new. I've written that before. But, what is amazing to me is how just the right parent comes along at just the right time. I had that experience today. I got an e mail from one of my parent friends and as I sat staring at my Blackberry, my heart was so full of gratitude I thought it would burst. My eyes filled up with tears. Thank you, God. Thank you for my friend. Thank you for always providing exactly the right parent exactly when I need them. But, I'm getting way ahead of myself. To properly tell this story, we have to go back. Way back. Almost to the beginning.

I met Leanne online. We used to write on a forum for adoptive parents. She lives in my state, so eventually there was an opportunity to meet in person. It was almost a year after our boys moved in. Older Kid had been with us and to work camp, back home and to another group home already. But, Younger Kid was doing relatively well with us at that time. My husband, Younger Kid and I participated in a walk to raise money for an organization that supports adoptive families. That's the event where Leanne and I met in real life.

Leanne and her husband didn't have any kids yet. They were looking for an older boy. About a year later, we saw Leanne and her husband again at an event where my Younger Kid spoke on a panel about what it was like to join a new family at his age. I felt really proud that day because Leanne said she was so impressed with the things my kid said.

Over the years, we have kept in touch. Leanne and her husband have teenage boys now. We have had similar challenges. We have seen our boys struggle to be able to live at home. We have sent them off to residential treatment hoping for miracles. We have been experienced verbal abuse and physical aggression and been called names most mothers have never even heard before.

I don't write a lot about my Younger Kid here. I want to but I don't know how to do it without saying too much. I still can't believe some of the things that happened in our home during Younger Kid's most difficult times of struggle. I haven't figured out how to write about those events while preserving my kid's dignity and my own heart. I guess I am not completely at peace with his situation. Leanne is someone who can relate because she has survived similar challenges.

My Younger Kid has not lived at home for nearly four years. He spent two ten month stretches in residential treatment and then moved to a specialized group home run by the same organization as his treatment facility. In the past four years, my youngest son has only lived at home for 62 days during the summer of 2008. During that time, I watched him unravel in front of me-behavior spiraling until he went back to the hospital and then back to treatment. His doctors recommended "long term treatment out of the home" stating that Younger Kid could not "tollerate the implied emotional connection that exists in the family home." Two and a half years later, my heart still breaks while relief washes over me at the exact same time. Conflicting, difficult, complicated emotions surround this situation.

Having Younger Kid live elsewhere is necessary. He is safe in his home. He is well cared for. He is able to be successful. We are able to have a good relationship with him. He visits us. We visit him. But, it is not what we dreamed of when we adopted him.

As a mother, I want what is best for my boys. I want them to have every opportunity to be successful. I want the best treatment, the most talented therapists, the smartest doctors and most accommodating treatment plan. Most days, I can focus my energy on being my Younger Kid's champion. Other days, I just want to be his mom. I want to hear the door bang as he heads for the school bus. I want to make his after school snack and chat about his day. I want to be the one he sees at the end of a tough day or a great day. I want to see him play sports. I want to be involved in all his school activities. I miss him. Sometimes, I feel jealous of the people who have the job of caring for my son. Lately, these thoughts have bothered me a lot.

And that brings us back to today's e mail. It was from my long time parent friend, Leanne. Her son is moving into the very same group home where my son lives! Four boys live there. One is mine and one is Leanne's. What are the odds of that?

Leanne and I are happy for ourselves and our families and our sons. We have traded lots of e mails this past week. We understand that it might sound strange to feel "happy" about our situation. We are happy anyway. We are happy for our kids and happy for ourselves. The kids are getting the best care available and we don't have to manage the hard days alone.

Parent to parent support changed my life. In my work, I see the effects one parent can have on another. Every parent of a child living with illness should have this kind of support. I work towards that goal-empowered by the times when I am able to use my experience to provide support to another parent and so, so grateful for days like today when another parent supports me.

Urgent!! Will you write a letter to Senator Berglin?

2011-03-28T17:27:00.003-05:00

Telling your story makes a difference!!

If you live in Minnesota, you might have heard about drastic cuts in mental health services in the current budget bill. Senator Linda Berglin has requested letters from people who have used community mental health services and their families about how community mental health services have impacted their lives. Programs facing cuts include: Community Support Programs Supportive Housing Community Mental Health Centers Subsidized Adoption Grants School Linked Mental Health Services Mental Health screenings for Children Crisis Stabilization Services Various services provided by Medical Assistance or Minnesota Care such as ACT Teams, AHRMS and even dental care! Senator Berglin needs these letters by noon tomorrow-Tuesday, March 29. Because her staff is swamped, you may send your letter to NAMI and Sue Abderholden, our Executive Director, will make sure your letter gets to the Senator on time. E mail your letter to Sue at sabderholden@nami.org or to her Policy Assistant, Matt Burdick at mburdick@nami.org Your letter should be short (less than one page) and contain the following: Dear Senator My name is... My son/daughter/brother lives with mental illness... He/she has used these services.... The services helped in the following ways...(allowed the child to remain at home, resulted in fewer hospitalizations, etc...) Without these services our family may have experienced..... Thank you for your time.

A huge thanks to all my blogging friends for dropping everything and writing a quick letter. Your story makes a difference. This is your chance to tell it!!

You are doing everything just right.

2011-03-28T06:02:00.003-05:00

Yes, you. Today, I write for you Friend. You are an excellent mother. You are doing everything right. Perhaps you chose to parent someone else's hurting child. Perhaps you were blindsided by an illness in your biological child that you do not understand and never saw coming. Either way, you are going to be ok. You kid is going to be ok too. "How do you know, Lynne?" Because, I know. I believe with my whole heart that parents of children who live with mental illness need the support of other parents like them. I am here to support you. That's how I know. Because I have been there. I am still there. My kids haven't gotten any easier. Their behaviors just change with their ages. Opportunities to make poor choices are everywhere. But, in my experience when I have support, I can manage almost anything. That was not the case before I had the support of parents like myself. Before we had support, my husband and I could easily become overwhelmed by behaviors and society's reaction to them. We felt out of control. We felt at fault. We felt evaluated, embarrassed and inadequate. Have you been there too? Now we have people. Other parents who get it. And the behaviors are still here. Society's response isn't much different. But, our parent friends have taught us some things that are invaluable. Truths to plant ourselves in when the doubt creeps in. Behaviors are symptoms of illness. The illness is not something anyone chose or caused. It is not our fault. And those truths really do set parents free. When we are free of guilt and shame then we are free to be what our children really need. We can become their champion. One of my parent friends says our kids don't have a hero. There is no Helen Keller. No Michael J. Fox. It's up to us. It's on us to teach society the truths we have learned ourselves. It's a natural human response to assign blame. We like justice. We like things "fixed". Ten years ago, if I had seen a young man like one of mine I would have made judgements about his mother. I would have said, "If I was that kid's mother, I'd......" or "Why didn't his mother teach him any discipline or work ethic?" or "What that boy needs are some consequences so severe he won't ever forget them." It's not society's fault. They don't know any better. They don't know what we know. As humans, we want to make things certain. Things we are unsure of make us afraid. We don't like being afraid. If it's all the mother's fault then she can fix it. Our kids' behaviors and choices make most people uncomfortable and unsure. As humans, we don't like uncertain. We don't like what we cannot control. So, "that kid's mother needs to step up", becomes a standard and acceptable response to behavior. But, I know better Friend. You are doing everything just right. You are an excellent mother. Your kid lives with an illness he/she did not choose. Behaviors are a symptom of that illness. You can change people's minds. You can share these truths.

"Everything will be ok in the end. If it's not ok, it's not the end."

-annonymous

"We are living proof that love remains."

2011-03-18T06:58:00.007-05:00

Six years ago today, we took our two foster sons to church. Their Social Worker came along with us. We went to the Sanctuary with the Pastor. It was decorated with balloons and flowers I had brought earlier that day. Together with our boys that afternoon, we had a commitment ceremony. We lit a cande for them and a candle for us and used those to light one larger "family candle". We had a candle for their biological parents too. We mentioned them by name and prayed for peace for their hearts, for their physical safety and ongoing good health. The Pastor talked about each of us being adopted by God. She read from the Bible.

"But Ruth replied, 'Don't urge me to leave you or to turn
back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die and there I will be burried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death seperates you and me.' When Naomi realized that Ruth was deteermined to go with her, she stopped urging her." ~Ruth
1:16-18

The Social Worker had brought some paperwork for us. Documents called "intent to adopt". My husband and I signed them that day in the Sanctuary. The Social Worker told the boys that what we signed was a legal document that would remain in their files forever and even if we never finalized the adoptions we were promising to be their parents until we die. The Pastor reiterated that what my husband and I were doing was indeed forever. We signed those documents in the Sanctuary with the same determination as Ruth had thousands of years before. Determined. Committed. Nothing but death would seperate our family.

Our Younger Kid was 12. He loved the song "Love Remains" by Collin Raye. We played it that day at our ceremony.

Kingdoms come and go but they don't last before you know the future is the past In spite of what's been lost or what's been gained we are living proof that love
remains

It gives you a nice warm feeling, doesn't it? Lucky boys, nice little family. I wish I could tell you that we lived happily ever after. But, you know better.

We freaked Older Kid out with that ceremony. He moved to a group home a few weeks later where he stayed for fifteen months. Older Kid decided for himself to come home. And about the same time, Younger Kid began his struggle with Mood Disorder. He still doesn't live at home. But, eventually he stopped crying and begging, "Send me back!" Like Naomi, our boys eventually "realized" we were determined and "stopped urging" us to leave them.

We never did finalize Older Kid's adoption. It wasn't a step he felt comfortable taking. So we celebrate today as the official day we became a family.

Now our boys are adults with new challenges. I remember that day six years ago with happiness. I sometimes long for the naivety that I had then and I always smile when I think of the paperwork that made us a family.

"In spite of what's been lost or what's been gained, we are living proof that love remains."

Connecting or Controlling

2011-02-23T07:20:00.005-06:00

Recently, I wrote about a new (and difficult) lesson I am learning about putting a healthy distance between my heart and my (legal) adult sons' choices. A few months before, I wrote about how I thought I had learned life's hardest lesson of all. All this learning is courtesy of my Older Kid. You know him. He is the defiant, fiercely independent, courageous and-at times-remarkably kind young man who I've loved since that day in McDonald's when he looked at me and said about his brother, "Don't worry about him. I can handle him." Older Kid doesn't do anything in a small way and that includes mistakes. Oh yeah. When Older Kid makes a mistake, he goes all the way. He makes enormous mistakes. And enormous mistakes have enormous consequences.

My Older Kid and I have a strong bond. I get him. I might be the only person on Earth who really "gets" Older Kid. And I love him. I love to the Moon. Recently, at a meeting Older Kid cried a little and he never cries. And I thought my whole heart would just explode. But, as much as I love Older Kid, I am also challenged by him and his choices.

Older Kid lives on the edge of what society finds acceptable. He lives on the edge of what I find acceptable. It's who he is. He is wired for survival. He doesn't like comfortable. Comfortable and safe are more frightening than risk and doing things the hard way. He makes some choices that go against my values. He makes some choices that I find morally objectionable. And I have to ask myself regularly lately, "What is more important? What's my value? Connection or control."

I choose connection.

This is new for me. This is the first time I am parenting an adult. An independent adult. I'm not going to lie to you, there are times I feel like saying, "No. As a matter of fact, you do not have my permission to go here or there and engage in this or that behavior." But, Older Kid is an adult.

So, what does connection look like? It means I choose to value my relationship with my kid over my feelings about some of his choices. In a way, it's kind of like the commitment I have talked about over the years. Older Kid and I share a connection. We are going to share that connection until one of us decides to end it. (When I die. I know. I'm not controlling by nature at all.) We can have that connection regardless of the choices either of us makes out in the world.

So, all the worries I used to have--what if he can't get a job, what if he gets arrested and ends up in jail, what if he has a bunch of children, how will he support them? etc. etc... don't matter anymore. Because I choose to have a relationship with my Older Kid regardless of his choices or his mistakes. And so I am free of all my old worries.

I feel totally smart for figuring this out. I also feel a huge sense of relief. My role as my adult Older Kid's mom is connection.

Can we talk?

2011-02-16T06:52:00.003-06:00

I want to take a little risk today and talk about something really personal. Something I have only shared with my husband and a few of my people. I'm not looking for sympathy or comments telling me to take care of myself. I'm sharing this because it's a little hard to talk about and I suspect I am not the only one.

Here's an article about mother's of children living with Autism having symptoms similar to combat solders who often live with Post Traumatic Stress, an anxiety disorder. This isn't just limited to mothers who parent children with Autism. Some of my sons' diagnosis include mood disorder NOS, reactive attachment disorder (as adults, they now have personality disorder diagnosis instead), post traumatic stress disorder and depression with features of psychosis. Mine are awesome kids despite their challenges. They have good hearts. We have become a family. They love us. We love them. But the process was not easy.

Two weeks ago, I was diagnosed with panic disorder. I had been having difficulty sleeping. I could fall asleep but I would wake up around 1:00 feeling scared. Really scared. I was compelled to get up and check my house. Does everything look secure? Does the neighborhood appear quiet and safe? I would have to get a drink of water. Then I'd try to go back to sleep, but I was unable to. I was too afraid. "Of what?" the doctor asked me. "I don't know. The end of the world maybe." It wasn't a specific fear. It was more like terror and dread. Most nights I would stay awake until it was time to get up and get ready for a new day. When I did go back to sleep I would have frightening dreams, like someone was building a bomb in the middle of my street or something equally ridiculous.

During the day, my brain felt jumpy. I was irritable and short tempered. I associated this with my lack of sleep. I felt so overwhelmed at times that I almost couldn't breathe. I often asked my family to please stop making demands. They looked confused. "What demands?" I thought I must be becoming a person who just cannot multi-task. Someone who requires a much simpler lifestyle. My brain raced all throughout the day. I was on high alert all the time. The doctor said what I described were panic attacks.

Panic attacks. Go figure. So, for the past two weeks I have been taking Celexa for anxiety. My brain thanks me. It says, "Ahhhhh". And I also take a wonderful little sleep med. I have slept all night, every night for two weeks. Amazing.

The doctor told me that I have likely had higher than normal anxiety my entire life and that anxiety has chosen to manifest itself in this form probably because of events. I find that a little strange given that almost 4 years have passed since our family's most stressful challenges. Why now? Nobody knows. It just is what it is.

Man Children

2011-02-11T07:57:00.004-06:00

I confess. It's not my original idea. I am stealing the term "man child" from this amazing blogger who I read every. single. day. and you should too because she is brilliant, gracious and hillarious. OK? Good.

What's a man child? One who is legally an adult, who liberally enjoys all the freedoms of being an adult while struggling to make adult choices and often finding himself in facing the inevitable accountability/consequences of his choices.

I have two man children. And the last ten days or so have been challenging ones for our family. Indeed, sometimes the choices and the ensuing accountability spill over onto the adults in the man child's life. Namely....me and my husband. Awesome.

I strive to keep a healthy distance between my heart and my man children's choices. But, I admit I have had a few tough days lately. My calm and objective plan serves me well about 80% of the time. The other 20% I panic. And yell. And threaten. And yesterday I even cried. At work. It was pitiful.

My plan? Calm and objective. Stay positive. Move forward one day at a time, knowing that if today is good there is a greater chance that tomorrow will also be good. This too shall pass. And, like my Grandma Lee always said, "It's a great life if I don't weaken." Grandma, please use whatever influence you have up there in Heaven to get my Older Kid a new apartment...FAST. Thankyousomuch! I love and miss you. And hugs to Grandpa!

On the positive side...the mercury is going up to 30 degrees today! I'm opening the sunroof! Have a great weekend everybody!

Finding balance

2011-02-04T07:21:00.004-06:00

Thank you for your comments yesterday. I got a lot of advice and support both here and on Facebook and I appreciate it. I want to follow up with you so you know where I'm at with this lesson. I think I did pretty well yesterday with my "calm and objective" plan.

First, I went to third parties to verify my kid's story. I went out of my way to get actual copies of reports and other documents so I could go to the meeting with all the facts. I wanted the facts because I know that if I plant myself in truth professionals cannot argue with, I do better. When I try to get professionals to "feel" something, I almost always leave defeated.

I was relieved and happy to learn that everything my kid told me was documented. He told the truth. And as I read the documents and listened to my own kid speak at the meeting, it became clear to me that his response in this "incident" was trauma based. I verified that when I mentioned that perhaps my kid was responding to something in the past and his eyes filled up with tears.

Damn trauma! Trauma has re-wired both my boys' brains and causes them to think differently than those of us who haven't experienced it. It has always been easy for me to "get it" when it comes to trauma. When one of the boys makes a choice based on their past trauma, I can usually spot that and tie the current situation to the past. Some professionals are understanding. Others call it "justification" or "reasoning" or some other term that means "excuse". I took Essie's advice and "disregarded" those opinions. I know my kid.

My kid has agreed to work on his trauma in some specialized therapy. I feel ok about most of the consequences he will receive. What he did was wrong. But, explainable. Even understandable given his past experience. Part of taking responsibility includes acknowleging the past and moving to resolve the trauma. I'm very proud of my kid for being willing to take that step. My husband and I intend to stand by our son through every bit of the process.

I also have to mention that I'm so thankful for one particular member of the team. He will be working very hard in the coming weeks to put the plan together. I appreciate his efforts and his support.

Thin line

2011-02-03T06:50:00.003-06:00

I am learning a lesson right now. God is using my kids to teach me. It's not fun. It gives me panic attacks during the night. I have to take medication to sleep. I know I am not the first parent to learn this lesson. So, this is me reaching out to my friends in the blogging universe.

Please help me understand how to put distance between my own heart and my adult sons' choices.

This is the second time in two weeks, I have faced a situation where I have had to watch one kid or the other struggle his way through the serious consequences of his own choice. I want with all my heart to step in and make it stop. I want to take the stress away. I see myself as a doer. A problem solver. I want to fix these things. And I cannot.

It makes sense that being an adult comes with both freedom and responsibility and responsibility brings accountability. A young man cannot enjoy freedom without responsibility and accountability. I get that.

It seems that a parent walks on a thin line. I want my kids to have consequences that are appropriate given their diagnosis and capabilities. When I advocate for that, I am subject to criticism. "Let him grow up." "Stop babying him." And the problem comes in when these same critical professionals will need me and my husband in order to carry out their consequence. And then they want us to run right over and support THEM. And if all the professionals are busy supporting each other, then who is supporting the kid? Or, am I wrong to care about that?

My goal for today is to stay calm and remain objective. Calm and objective. Calm and objective. Perhaps repeating it enough can make it so.

I would really appreciate your thoughts. I could use a new perspective.

On healing

2011-02-02T06:55:00.003-06:00

A few years ago our family lived from crisis to crisis. We had one kid capable of going from zero to homocidal in 15 seconds and another who regularly cut himself to ribbons while simultaniously destroying walls, doors, electronics and any other personal property that captured his 12 second attention span. I would go days without talking to anyone who wasn't a doctor, a therapist, a social worker, skills worker, behavior specialist one of the multitude of professionals we enlisted to help us. Most of our friends and family were unavailable to help us. Some chose to step back, the rest we chose not to involve. We had to stabilize our family. Desperate, terrified, angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted...we were all of that and more.

I went to see a speaker--a well known and highly regarded expert on attachment disorders. She is a fantastic speaker-entertaining and easy to listen to. But in her enthusiasm and passion, she said something that didn't sit well with me at the time. She said, "Kids heal everyday." That phrase stuck in my brain the way popcorn can stick in a tooth. It was a small thing at first, mildly irritating. The more I thought about it, the more it became a bigger deal. I wrote this response to it. I said it was my opinion that not all "kids heal everyday". Then I wrote a follow up post where I said, none of the difficulty our family experiences changes what's great about our boys. And then I felt a little bit better. Looking back on it, I wonder if she meant to say, "I see different kids heal in different ways everyday". Healing happens over time. I wanted healing to happen in my own timeframe. Right now! Thankyouverymuch. And I wanted healing to look like the family I wanted. The one I pictured and dreamed about.

These days, things are much calmer around here. My husband and I describe ourselves as survivors of RAD. We took on the trauma and the illness. The madness that entered our home through our boys became a part of us for awhile-we absorbed some of it and it changed our hearts and turned our world upsidedown. And we survived that. We are on the other side of it now. We can breathe again. And there is healing.

I want to share some of the healing I have seen recently in my Older Kid. Over the past year or so, I have heard my oldest son say more than once that he doesn't feel badly about all that has happened to him. He is grateful for it. It brought him to what he knows as his current life. And he likes his current life. He recognizes that without the hardships he endured, he wouldn't be where he is.

Therapeutically speaking, that is HUGE.

But, he took things a step further this week and what he said really touched my heart. I am working on developing a presentation for a pre adoptive training I have been asked to help with. Besides sharing some of our family's story, I have been given the topic of Reactive Attachment Disorder. Yesterday, I sent an e mail to my Older Kid about the possibility of joining me at this training. I asked if he would be willing to talk to pre adoptive parents about his eperience in our family. What's it like to join a new family at age 14? Would he be willing to share some of his point of view?

His response? "HELL YES. WHEN?"

Later in the day, I talked with Older Kid on the phone in greater detail. We talked about boundaries and questions he should answer and what would be "off limits". I said I wanted him to address his story as it relates to life in our family. And he said, "I'll tell them you and Dad never gave up on me. I'll tell them that when a kid is making their life hell it's because he is sure they are just the next assholes to ditch him. I'll tell them that my Mom and Dad saved my life."

My Mom and Dad.

I said he should come to the training.

There is healing. When our Older Kid moved home, he regularly displayed all the symptoms of anxious-avoidant attachment. He spent two years bouncing from our house, to a group home, to our house, to work camp, to our house and back to a group home where he stayed for fifteen months. It was Older Kid's choice to finally come home. It wasn't easy for him to risk his heart and be part of a family he cared about. But, he did it. And now he is willing, even eager, to share his story so other kids might benefit.

I will be the proud mama in the back of the room...biting my lip and trying not to cry.

Even on the hard days

2011-01-19T14:30:00.005-06:00

Have you seen the movie The Blind Side? You know that scene where Sandra Bullock is eating lunch with her friends and one of them says, "You're changin' that boy's life." and Sandra Bullock says, "No. He's changin' mine."?

I totally get it.

I stood outside my Girlie's pre school last week and chatted with some other moms and one of them said, "Where would your boys be without you?" And I smiled and we all went on our way and I thought to myself, "Where would I be without them?"

I'm sure I wouldn't be writing this blog. I wouldn't be doing my work. And I wouldn't have my people.

This morning at our coffee group, I shared with some of my friends that my children are what I have in common with some of my people. Without my children, I likely would never have met one of my best friendds--a woman who kills her own chickens! (You blog fans know her as Activist Annie and she likes her chicken fresh. Thank you very much.) My boys have changed my life. I almost choked up this morning when I said if I could go back and have a life back the way it was before we brought our boys home, I wouldn't do it. I would not trade even one of my precious Drama Mama friends for a day in an easier life.

Nobody chooses some of the things parents go through as they raise kids living with RAD. During our family's worst struggles, my mantra was "Free at 40". You see, my Younger Kid turned 18 in my 40th year, and I thought 18 was a magical number which would let me off the parenting hook.

Psych.

Turns out that's not the case. Younger Kid got in a fight last night that prompted a late night call from the group home. And woould you believe that the fact he busted his buddy's lip open was the good news in that conversation?

Ahem.

Kids are going to struggle making decisions. Mine like to show me what they can do. If their
behavior could talk it would say, "Fine. Tell me where to live. Make me go to school and try to get me home at a certain time! But, I'm an adult now and I'm going to smoke cigarettes because I can! I might run away because I can. I might even have a whole lotta sex or hurt myself on purpose--just because I can!"

Now, I'm going to be honest with you. The controling part of me whose pretty little picture of adoption that included football scholarships to college, youth group every Wednesday night and boys who would choose a movie night with the family over hanging out at the mall--that woman--she struggles with this stuff. But, the part of me who looks for the good--that part of me--is proud that her boys have minds of their own and are willing to pursue their own passions. (not saying some of those passions don't need to be redirected--but we have a talented team of professionals to help us, right?)

I didn't sleep well after the group home phone call. I had bad dreams. This morning, I prayed and I asked God to please give me what I need to put a healthy distance between my heart and my boys' choices. Help me guide them. Help me to be someone they will listen to and respect rather than someone who nags and lectures. Help me not to get sucked into the drama tornado where it's impossible to remain objective. Help me to stay positive. Help me to have hope.

And God's answer?

"And hope does not disappoint us because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." -Romans 5:5

That love and Spirit exists in my boys' hearts too. It's all the best parts of them. Their courage and wit. Older Kid's determination and Younger Kid's gentle nature. And that's why I love being their mom...even on the hard days.

Borrowed Hope

2011-01-14T06:31:00.000-06:00

Earlier this week, at a meeting in my county, I sat with professionals and other parents and discussed the value of parent to parent support. One of the professionals said something that has stuck with me. We were talking about a new program called Experienced Parent, which pairs an "experienced parent" as a mentor with a parent new to the mental health system of care. The professional said the experienced parent could "borrow the new parent some hope". Borrowed hope. I have been thinking about it every since.

Borrowing hope. That is perfect. What a great way to describe parent to parent support.

I remember so well the dark and desperate days when hope was pretty scarce around here. I am an optimist and a problem solver by nature. But the combination of emerging mood disorder in one son, raging Reactive Attachment Disorder in the other, a new baby, the shocking sudden loss of my youngest sister, the increased isolation I felt alsong with criticism from the community brought me to my knees by the spring of 2007.

Thankfully, when my husband and I really could not manage one more day of our circumstances, we were blessed with just the right people to help us. A well respected psychiatrist who lent us his confidence and influence, a talented and gracious therapist who listened without judgement and my people. My parent friends who changed my life.

If you are a parent raising a child with mental illness and you're feeling a little tapped for hope these days, look us up. Get connected. Borrow some hope.

The media portrayal of mental illness

2011-01-12T07:18:00.008-06:00

Dear Media,

I am writing to introduce myself and my friends and express our frustration and disappointment in your ongoing coverage of mental illness and it's obvious connection to the shootings in Arizona.

First, an introduction. My friends and I call ourselves Drama Mamas. We are an empowered and influential group of parents. Each of us have a child or children who live with mental illness. As a group, the Drama Mamas provide support for each other and seek to support, educate and advocate for other parents in similar situations. We also provide a great deal of education to the public and professionals who work with our children. Today, we are attempting to educate you with some parent perspective. We hope you might hear the truths we are sharing and just maybe adjust your own tone and use different language to describe the person none of us understand.

Crazy. Deranged lunatic. Psychotic. Delusional. Where were his parents? Why didn't they do something? Maybe someone should sue them. What kind of people raise a murderer?

I have heard all these comments this week on my TV. Fox News, Meet the Press, The Today Show. Reporters want to know why and there is no why. It must be our human nature to look for someone to blame.

Blame doesn't help. Blame only promotes feelings of shame which can lead to further isolation.

Dr. Brene Brown, a researcher who studies human connection, defines blame as the discharge of anger and pain. In a recent video on TED, Dr. Brown talks about connection and the power of vunerability. She says that in her research she discovered that people who share their vunerabilities and live in a whole hearted manner, do so because they believe they are worthy of connection, love and belonging. "That's it." she said, "They believe they are worthy."

Today, any young man or woman living with mental illness who turns on a TV and listens to the language, fear and disgust coming from it isn't likely to feel very worthy of belonging. Rather, he or she is likely to feel ashamed of an illness he or she did not choose. It's not a very big leap to a choice not to seek treatment at all. The mental health system of care is already difficult for a young adult to navigate. Why make it more difficult by promoting stigma, rage and misunderstanding? Why not come alongside this young adult and support them instead? You have an opportunity here and an obligation (in our opinion) to use your voice to educate, encourage understanding and promote proactive strategies to help persons living with illness. Blame is poison. Blame does not promote understanding. It only promotes shame, fear and more anger.

What about the elementary age child living with mental illness? What kind of impact does language and blame have on him or her and his or her family? An article this week in Time suggests that signs of psychosis include disorganized thoughts and acting inappropriately in social situations. Show me one ten year old who has never been socially inappropriate. What chance do our kids have if typical childhood behavior is listed as a warning sign someone might indeed be capable of mass murder?

Our families have stood up to stigma. We have seen mental illness take hold of our children and our family and we have faced it head on. "Why didn't his parents do something?" Maybe they did. Don't you think any parent would do anything they could to prevent something like this?

Here's the thing Media, your work matters. The things you say matter. It matters! As the mother of two young adult sons living with mental illness, I beg you to start promoting understanding and offering strategies for finding care. When you have the opportunity to interview a member of Congress, please ask him or her what they can do to make mental health care more accessible rather than asking them how they feel. We know how they feel. We need to know what they can do to help. We need to instill a sense of worthiness in our children. Your words can go a long way to helping.

Thanks for reading. If you agree, please use the buttons below to share this with your own friends and family.

Ordinary Joy

2010-12-27T05:49:00.006-06:00

I remember how excited we were. The day was coming fast. The day we would be a family. The day Older Kid would move home with us. Younger Kid would move in a few months after and then we would all be whole and complete. My husband and I were busy preparing and all our free time was filled with painting rooms, shopping for furnishings and talking about how it would be.

My husband and I thought that the kids would move home and we would be a family. Just like that-when the social worker dropped him off, Older Kid would be at home. Part of a committed "forever" family. He would love us and we would love him and that would be more than enough. And we expected the same thing to repeat when Younger Kid would move home.

The truth is, we became a family in little moments over a long period of time. Moments I had taken for granted prior to living with Reactive Attachment Disorder. Moments of simplicity. Moments of typical family interaction. Moments of ordinary joy.

Reactive Attachment Disorder robs families like mine of so much. It's one thing to read about the symptoms or speculate with a mental health professional on how those symptoms might manifest themselves in various behaviors. It's another thing all together to witness a kid kick five holes in your wall because he cannot do what you tell him to do....even when all you're asking from the kid is to take a shower.

My family is not typical. We struggle with many activities that seem to come easily for other families. One example is a meal. It was a family meal that triggered a rage in Younger Kid so severe that he went to the hospital in the back of a police car. He has not lived at home since that day. My husband and I stopped expecting our kids to eat with us at the table. It may seem like a small thing, but that was a loss for me. Families of children living with RAD experience many similar losses every single day. It's that loss that prompted me to write about the Christmas Merry Go Round last year and put words to the difference between the Christmas we joyfully anticipated and the Christmas we often experienced.

Not this year. This year, I am thrilled to tell you that our family experienced the best Christmas ever! It only took seven years to get it right. And I sure was surprised by how many typical family moments of simple ordinary joy we experienced! Thursday night, I chatted with my Older Kid for a few hours. He hung out in the kitchen while I baked some muffins. He did the dishes! We sat in the living room for awhile and talked about regular everyday things. The next morning, he sat at the table with his laptop reading my merry go round post. I knew when he got to the part about our ride back to the prison bus because he shook his head and said, "Man, I was an assh*ole."

Younger Kid and I did some shopping on Friday that was completely without incident. Not even one unkind word! And our family ate together at our table! Four times during the weekend we enjoyed a meal together complete with laughter, chatter and teenage boys taking their own plates to the kitchen!

And our whole family went to church on Christmas Eve! We did it! And it was a candle light service! Those of you who understand RAD will really appreciate the significance of our family lighting candles in the sanctuary, holding onto them and singing Silent Night. My Younger Kid did that!! While holding onto a flame! An amazing, simple moment of typical, ordinary joy!

Younger Kid's friend has been with us this Christmas too. Yesterday, he presented me with a small gift he bought with his own money. (I feel guilty just typing the words) I told him, "That's so nice. But you shouldn't have spent your money on me." He said, "Well, without your family, I wouldn't have had any Christmas at all." My family...

Moments of ordinary joy...

Around and Around We Go

2010-12-24T07:00:00.000-06:00

I wrote this post last Christmas. But, I think it's worth a second look. We are all at home this year. Older Kid came home last night. Younger Kid and his friend (a boy from the group home who has claimed us) are here as well. I am looking forward to Christmas this year. Yes, all the same issues exist, but things seem easier this year. I hope so....

Have a Merry Christmas everybody!!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We brought our boys home when they were 14 and 11. You already know our story. (If you are new to the blog, Click How we got here and read away) This is a picture of my boys on the merry-go-round in the park in my hometown.

I grew up with this merry-go-round. Yeah, it is that old. I remember my brother pushing us so fast. Hang on, hang on, hang on, close your eyes....it will stop soon...and then he would push it again. A few months after the boys moved home, a social worker asked me what it was like living with them. We were talking about Older Kid and his behaviors and in my mind, I saw myself on that old merry-go-round. "It is like being on a merry-go-round," I told the worker, "All we can do is hang on for dear life and hope like hell that we don't die." Since then, I have referred to the merry-go-round lots of times to describe my life raising hurting children.

Last summer, I took my boys and my Girlie back to my hometown. We camped (in the rain as it turned out) and one afternoon, we went to the park. The boys went right to the merry-go-round where I took this picture. Life's ironies....

Holidays bring unique challenges to families like mine. Our children's past combined with whatever illnesses it left them with can make holidays interesting. Older Kid was at work camp during our first Christmas as a family. But, he got a pass to come home. My husband and I were excited about Christmas. "Here's an opportunity to be typical parents." we thought. Our boys told us they didn't believe in Santa. We ignored. They told us they hated Christmas. We ignored. After we opened presents on Christmas, I had to drive Older Kid to a local prison to meet a Corrections bus that would haul him back to work camp. (Yes...we actually had to meet that bus at a prison!) On the way, my Older Kid casually mentioned that he got better Christmas presents from his bio family and he thought that my husband and I could have done much more. BLINK

I remember wondering if we could ever be a family. Would Older Kid ever just accept the love and the family we were trying to give him? How in the world could we help him reconcile his past and choose to be happy in his present?

These days, we do what we can to make Christmas easier for our kids. We light a candle on Christmas that is for their parents. We don't talk about it unless one of them wants to. Only me, my husband, and the boys know what that particular candle is for. We stay at home. If someone wants to see us, they come over. So, we have a lot of people in and out--grandparents, cousins, my brother--we have a lot of food around. We don't plan much. We hang out at home. It seems easier. If someone loses it, it is better to be at home than in a crowded restaurant or even at Grandma's house. We don't have a lot of traditions besides that one. Except for the Christmas Pickle. The Christmas Pickle is an ornament that my boss at the 30 hour accounting job gave me for Christmas the year I worked for her. I hide the Christmas Pickle on Christmas Eve before dinner and whoever finds it gets to open the first present after dinner. We open all our presents on Christmas Eve. We open Santa's presents on Christmas Day. My husband and I don't care that the boys say they don't believe. We have Santa presents anyway. In recent years, Older Kid says he believes for Girlie's sake. That is sweet of him.

Christmas with our boys is a lot of emotional weight lifting. It is not like they come up to us and say, "Gosh, the holidays are making me miss my Mom and I am feeling like kicking you right now." They just make the poor choice, act up, display defiant behaviors. It is up to my husband and I to figure out the why. That is our job. We are the parents.

Life for my boys in their bio family wasn't all bad. It was bad all right. But, they love their mother. They were little boys and their life was all they knew. They had a Grandpa who gave them nice Christmases. They feel pain at Christmas for the loss of the family they had. It doesn't have anything to do with my husband and I. It is not about us. It is about the unfairness of life and the pain that was inflicted by a well-meaning child protection system that took two little boys from an abusive and neglectful situation and a Judge who ruled it was in the best interest of the little boys to have new parents. The system was right. And that is a lot for a teen to live with. So, we try to have decent holidays.

If you know a family like mine, with parents who have chosen to raise other people's broken children--bring them a pie this week, or a special candle, or a Christmas Pickle. And say a prayer that that family's merry-go-round slows down just enough for a happy Christmas and for kids to recognize that it is ok to enjoy a holiday. It is ok move forward and be happy with a new family who loves them. It is safe to accept the love that their family is trying to give them. Say a prayer for those parents to have strength and courage and to never, ever give up their dream of being a more typical family.

Thanks for reading. Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

A cautionary tale or a matter of perspective?

2010-12-21T22:05:00.002-06:00

This time of year my mailbox is full of Christmas letters. Do you get them in your mailbox too? They go something like, "We are so proud of our son who is a senior at the University majoring in Aeronautical Engineering. Our oldest daughter is finishing up her residency in Orthopedics. Our baby has always been the artsy one. She studies ballet at the Fancy School." Sometimes when I read these things I question some people's definition of success. I also can't help but wonder if the mothers who write letters like this view my family as a cautionary tale. I can feel badly about it too--for about 20 seconds.

I am the proud mother of two children adopted from foster care. Yes, they were "older children". Yes, they struggle to regulate their emotions. They are often socially inappropriate. They live with mental illness. They love macaroni and cheese and those nasty packaged noodles. They came from generational poverty. They survived horrific abuse at the hands of the very people who should have protected them.

My sons often act in their own best interests. They do it to protect themselves since they cannot ever choose to trust an adult to protect them. How could they trust me or my husband? How? It turns out that the "how" is not ours to answer. Our job was commitment. God's job was results.

So, here's what I'd say in a Christmas letter that I cannot write. My Younger Kid has lived away from home for 3.5 years because the severity of his attachment disorder demands that. Over the years, he has pushed us to limits we didn't know we had but we will never give up on him. And every afternoon for the last 8 days, I have received a sweet little text message from my youngest son. "Luv u Mom". I don't think there is a better Christmas present than that.

My Older Kid achieved independence this year. He has his own apartment and his portion of the rent is paid. He gets by doing what he has always done. He survives. He is good at that. He is the most determined, most courageous person walking on this Earth. Sometimes he uses those qualities for good and sometimes he turns them onto himself. But, always he is who he is and he does not make apologies for it. And that is admirable-something a mother can be proud of. And I am so proud.

Without my boys, challenges and all, I wouldn't be who I am. I owe parts of myself to them. The part of me who is still traumatized and the part of me who loves them and wants to be their champion.

Is our family a cautionary tale? I guess it's a matter of perspective.

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Older Kid weighs in on the blog

2010-12-17T22:35:00.003-06:00

The day I posted my happy binder story, I got a phone call from my Older Kid. He read the blog. And he posted a link to it on his Facebook page. He said, "I feel sorta proud that all my destructive behavior is helping other families now." Isn't he funny in the sweetest kind of way?

Older Kid says this is the first time he has read the blog. He said he likes it. He told me to go ahead and use his name and his picture if want to. I am not inclined to do that right now, but I like having his support. And I thought you might like it too.

My Happy Little Binder Story

2010-12-16T06:33:00.003-06:00

Today, I get to tell an amazing story. A happy story. And I am excited to do it. This is a true story that happened in my life--becasue of my boys. Ok. Ok. I'll just get to it already.

Before we brought our boys home, I was a career girl. I loved it. I had achieved a significant measure of success in my career. I was used to walking into meetings with powerful and influential people and getting everything I wanted. I was used to hearing, "Yes." So, when my Younger Kid had some big problems at school, I expected to go to school, sit down with the powerful and influential people, use my reason and skills of persuasion and get my Yes. Yes? No. Not so much. In fact, when it came to my boys, I almost never got my Yes. And it wasn't just at school. When we sought help from our County's Children's Mental Health Division of Social Services, our son qualified for the help, but I still struggled with my relationships with the professionals. The same problem I had with teachers and principals carried right over to social workers and their supervisors.

I did not feel equal to the professionals involved in my sons' lives. In my career, I could walk into a conference room for a meeting and I knew I was considered an equal by everyone in the room. When I spoke, people listened to me. And even if we did not agree, there was mutual respect. I had credibility and influence at the table. After reflecting on things, I felt that as a parent, I did not have the credibility and influence I needed to be effective. So, I started watching the people who did get a Yes. What did they have that I did not have?

It's going to sound silly....

But my Social Worker had a binder. A big binder. Stuffed full of impressive looking papers. She brought the binder to every single meeting. When she put that thing on the table, it was like a signal to all the other professionals. If that binder could have spoken it would have said, "She's ready to start the meeting now. Pay attention everybody."

So, I got myself a binder. I bought the same size and color as my Social Worker. And I went to the box under my computer desk that held all of the paper associated with Younger Kid. I sorted the paper into piles. School. Legal. County. Medical. etc... I put a picture of my Younger Kid in the clear pocket on the front of the binder and I started bringing it to meetings. I sat at the table with my new secret weapon inside my tote bag by my feet and when I saw my Social Worker reach for her binder, I reached for mine as well. Two binders on the table. Let's have a meeting!

And you know what happened? People started treating me differently. Yes. They. Did. Someone at the table would say something like, "You know, I don't think I have a copy of Younger Kid's latest IEP." Oh really, I have one right here in my binder. Would you like to make a copy of mine?

The binder helped me to look organized, prepared and "with it". The binder brought me some credibility and influence. The binder made me a more effective advocate.

NAMI Minnesota has given me the opportunity to share the binder with other parents. We have developed a class around that binder, called Advocacy on Purpose. It's a real privilage to share my story with other parents and help those parents gain credibility and influence and become more effective advocates for their children. Helping other parents means that my struggle was meant for something good.

Here is the amazing. Are you ready? The Supervisor of Children's Mental Health in my County asked NAMI for enough binders to distribute to every parent they work with! Every parent gets a binder from their Social Worker. In addition, I get to tell my binder story today to all of the Children's Mental Health Social Workers in my County.

I met with my friend the Social Worker yesterday. (She is not my social worker anymore. My Younger Kid is an adult now and has a different worker) And we talked about the binder. We are both amazed by the role we played in what is about to happen in our County. We both feel quite humble about it. It's not us. It's the story that is important. It is the empowerment of parents and the improvement in relationships that is so exciting. And we agreed that we were both awed by the ways such difficult circumstances are turned into victories.

It's a big day for parents! And I cannot wait to see what happens next!

Dear Pre-Adoptive Parents,

2010-12-09T01:53:00.005-06:00

I remember being in your shoes so well! I remember going to pre-adoptive training and a parent, like myself, came to speak to our group. I remember what she looked like and I remember that her story was sad. A cautionary tale that I believed was meant to scare us away from the adoptive process. After listening to her presentation, my husband and I looked at each other and said, "It's too bad-what's happened to her family. But, that's not going to happen to our kids." You see, our minds were made up. We were moving forward. No. Matter. What.

The facilitators of our training spoke at length about Reactive Attachment Disorder and Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. My husband and I looked at each other, shrugged and said, "That sounds pretty bad. Let's just choose kids who don't have those disorders." Indeed. We were naive too.

I have wanted to speak at pre-adoptive training for years and years. This is the first agency that has allowed me the opportunity. I can only guess that if an adoption professional knows my kids, they may think I will scare all of you away. Lots of people may see my family as a cautionary tale. Those people would benefit from taking a closer look. It's a matter of perspective.

I am not here to share my war stories. If you are like I was, you won't listen anyway so telling the dark side of adopting older children is a waste of all our time. I hope, when you look back on this day you might say that I was honest and offered encouragement and hope. That doesn't mean I'm going to say, "Rah, rah, rah. Kids heal everyday!" You will hear plenty of that along your journey too. And, in my opinion, it is also a waste of time.

Our kids come from all sorts of past situations. Many involve neglect, physical abuse and trauma and the loss of a biological family. I still have moments where I am staggered by the magnitude of loss and trauma that my boys endured. Given what they have survived, they are remarkable. Incredible. Resiliant. When I sat where you are sitting, my objective was to provide a family for children without a family. If you had asked me what would be the most valuable thing I could give my boys, I would have said unconditional love. Hands down. I was wrong.

If I told you there are two personal resources you will need an endless supply of to be successful-would you be interested? Love is not one of them. Sure, love is important but love is not enough. The two resources you will need most are commitment and hope.

Our kids have been wired not to trust adults. So, they test us. And test us. And test us some more. Each kid tests according to his or her own needs for as long as it takes. I remember being surprised at how my Older Kid would push us and push us. We would offer up a consequence and he would purposely behave in ways to ensure we had no choice but to consequence him! What I realized was that he did not care about our consequence. What could we do to him that was worse than anything he had already survived? Nothing. He wanted to see if we were good for our word. Older Kid was also sure we would send him away. He told us as much. We said we would not send him away. He said, "Yes, you will." Then he proceeded to behave in ways that gave us no choice. Older Kid was in and out of our home for the first two years he was with us. Bouncing randomly between our home and various group homes. He could not handle love. It was too risky. I remember vividly the day my husband and I took Older Kid to lunch and my husband leaned across the table and said, "Look Kid. Even if you don't want us to adopt you. Even if you don't live at home. No matter what your name is. No matter what you call us, Lynne and I are gonna dog you forever." Of course we loved the kid. But, at the time, it was more appropriate not to show it. Commitment was more important. That was the day that our Older Kid started coming around. And about 8 months later-just over two years after the first time he moved in- he moved home for good.

Each kid is different and we have had to display commitment in different ways. When Younger Kid developeed Bipolar disorder at the age of 14, we did all we could do to keep him at home. We enlisted the help of social services, intensive behavior therapists and other mental health professionals. I left my job to stay home full time and coordinate his care. The combination of mental illness, family dynamics and Younger Kid's own past trauma made residential treatment necessary. Our commitment to Younger Kid remains. We promised him a family. He gets one. Even if he cannot live at home right now.

"When the whole world says, 'Give up'. Hope whispers, 'Try again.' Without hope, nothing our family has achieved would have been possible.

You have to parent our kids differently. They don't respond to "because I said so"'. They may not care so much for rules. They might not call you Mom. (Indeed, they might call you names you haven't been called before.) They appreciate toughness, yet they will demand to be treated with respect. They watch you. They see every single thing you do and every single thing you don't do. And they make judgements based on what they see.

I am excited for you. This is going to be the best thing you will ever do. And the hardest. "Nothing worth having is easy." My father in law always says that. It's true. My best advice is to always look for the good in your kid. Extend grace even when you feel you cannot. Defend them. Be their champion. Show your love by displaying unwavering commitment. When times are hard, hold onto hope. Never give up. Find yourself some support now. Join a NAMI parent resource group. You will need friends with firsthand knowlege of what you are experiencing. Parent to parent support changed my life. Don't wait until you are in crisis to seek support.

It's not the way we imagined, but we are a family. I cannot imagine life without my boys.

Wonder

2010-12-04T08:06:00.003-06:00

As I write this I am watching my husband out the window. We had about 7 inches of snow last night and he is using his new snowblower for the first time. We have two driveways on our property and this is our third winter in this home, so a snowblower is a necessary and very welcome addition! We had the machine delivered two weeks ago. My husband's eyes dances as he unpacked the crate. Wonder....

Minnesota offers plenty of winter wonder. I cannot believe I am about to write something praising winter! It is cold! It is icy. It is too windy and driving conditions are often difficult. But, there is some magic in winter in our home. The old and large windows are drafty but the view after a fresh snowfall is impressive. There's a park across the street and in a few short hours the fresh snow on the sidewalks will be imprinted with bootprints as dozens of children bundled in colorful winter gear will drag their sleds down the block to the big hill.

A quick walk around the neighborhood provides views of all kinds of wonderous winter fun. Cross-country skiiers dot the park, people running on freshly plowed pavement (step lively), the sound of snowblowers can be heard throughout the community. Inside houses, cookies are baking, presents are being wrapped and a cozy fire crackles in the fireplace.

Looking for wonder? Look to Minnesota during the holidays.

One Word

2010-12-01T07:02:00.003-06:00

One word.

That's today's assignment at a project I am working on called Reverb10. Reverb10 is an effort to blog every day during the month of December. Participants receive a prompt each day-a topic.

Today's prompt is "one word". What one word encapsulates the year 2010? And if I could fast forward one year, what word would I like to use for 2011?

Progress! That is the word I choose for 2010. I have been speaking publically for a little over two years to parents, social workers, mental health professionals and basicallly anyone who will listen about the value of parent to parent support. Meanwhile, the parent to parent support NAMI has been able to provide in my county continues to grow, to expand and more and more. And parents lives are changed for the better by those efforts.

It is an amazing thing to watch. Parents feel supported, become educated, become their own best advocates. Relationships between parents and professionals become more focused, walls come down, they see each other as human and begin to work together toward the best interests of each individual child and family.

I have witnessed all that and more in 2010. It is exciting to reflect on our experiences and plan for new opportunities to expand parent to parent support in 2011. I hope that one year from now, the word I will use to describe 2011 will be "expansion". Expansion of the program NAMI has in Dakota County to other counties. I believe this model of support needs to be available in all 87 counties in Minnesota. I believe this is the year parent to parent support expands.

The work NAMI is doing in Dakota County is important and effective. Education, support and advocacy for parents equates to empowerment and success.

Trust. Faith. Hope.

2010-11-25T07:39:00.004-06:00

Colleen's son stayed in the hospital for a long time. Three days in the ICU and almost a week in the medical unit before being transfered to the psychiatric unit. His body really took took a hit. An "assault" was the word the doctors used. During that time, Colleen knew there was a major life lesson in all that had happened, but she might never hae been able to put it into words without the help of someone unexpected from the past.

Colleen had just finished speaking to the hospital's psychiatrist on the phone. It was a good conversation. That's how she was trying to look at it. Some positive things were said. The doctor acknowledged Colleen and her husband as being a significant difference between her son and most kids in similar situations. "I don't think I've given this diagnosis to a young man your son's age who tells me he loves his parents," the doctor had said. "His relationship with you and your husband is something in your son's corner." But, the doctor also said, "Kids tend to grow into their illness. If your son lives to be 30, he will probably be ok." If he lives to be 30.

Colleen was almost dizzy after talking with the doctor. It takes time to process information like what he had given her. But, God. Just in that moment, He sent someone from Colleen's past. She checked her e mail and there was a message from a high school classmate. Not someone she knew well or had any contact with since graduation. The woman said she had heard Colleen had adopted an older child. She and her husband had also adopted an older child. An 8 year old from China. They also had a second adopted child as well as three biological children. The woman sent a link to a blog that was a record of her adoption journey. Over the next few weeks, Colleen read and re-read the entire story. She was impressed by her friend's faith. Especially one entry where her friend described feeling overwhelmed. And she wrote that sometimes God does give us more than we can manage. He does it so we will know how much we need Him.

Most of the time, our lives are not that difficult. Sure, we have challenges. We are busy, we are stressed. There is always money to manage, kids to drive around and dinner to plan. But, most of the time, we don't really have to use our faith. There are not too many situations in this life where we have nowhere to go except to God. Colleen had two of them in 12 hours. (Sometimes she needs to be hit over the head to really "get" something.) There are times in this life when God gives us more than we can manage so we will know how much we need Him. So, we will learn to trust Him. That is life's hardest lesson.

Trust. Faith. Hope.

Depression is a serious illness. Indeed it can be fatal. Suicide is the 3rd leading cause of death among teens. That's not because teens are selfish people who need to "learn to deal with life". That's because some teens live with an illness that has the potential to be fatal. We need to recognize that. A person who attempts suicide is not simply seeking attention, being stupid or acting selfish. They are battling an invisible mental illness and in that moment the illness is winning.

Colleen works to have a good relationship with her son-a close realtionship. She checks in with him to make sure he seems ok. Colleen focuses her energy on today. She knows that if today is good then there is a greater chance tomorrow will be good. That is her plan for doing the best she can to help her son see 30. Focus on today. Everyday. One day at a time.

"Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now,

and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.

God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up

when the time comes."

Matthew 6:34 (Message Version)

Life's Hardest Lesson (part three)

2010-11-23T22:57:00.003-06:00

Colleen's son had a lot of faith. Does that surprise you? It surprised her when he started going to a church in the neighborhood. He read the Bible regularly and spoke about his faith often. He went to church several times per week and even volunteered to clean there occasionally. Colleen thought about her son's faith as she sat alone in the dark after speaking to the doctor. Recently, the text message ex girlfriend seemed to pull him away from his church. Maybe that was some of the problem. Colleen felt badly that she hadn't encouraged her son's faith in recent weeks. Perhaps if she had...who knows.

Morning came without any calls from the hospital. According to an ICU nurse, it looked like Colleen's son would definitely survive. The nurse spoke of the possibility of organ damage. Colleen was surprised at her own response. "I don't care," she said. "He can get a new liver. We can hire people to help with whatever medical needs he has. He is alive! He survived!" She knew it was inappropriate to be so giddy, but Colleen didn't care. Her son had survived and the rest did not matter. She was going to see him later that day.

Colleen stopped at her office that morning. Her boss wanted to know why she was there and she mumbled something about work being important to her. In hindsight, Colleen says she went to work to feel normal. There was nothing normal about the previous 18 hours. She only stayed at work for a short time before heading to the hospital. The Youth Pastor from her son's church met her at the hospital and together they went upstairs to the ICU.

Colleen's son was awake. He stopped short of saying he was happy to be alive. He looked terrible. Hooked up to all kinds of machines-he had the biggest IV needle in his arm that Colleen had ever seen.

There was a chair in the corner of the room and Colleen sat there and watched as the Youth Pastor talked so kindly with her son. The Pastor was just a few years older than her son. He was a smart person who displayed compassion and concern. Colleen appreciated that. She cried as the pastor prayed using Jeremiah 29:11. "Know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future." Hope and a future. Thank you, God.

When the pastor left, a really nice nurse came in. She was young with short, stylish hair and sassy glasses. She removed the enormous IV needle. "Those paramedics are cowboys." she said. "They just love to use the biggest needle possible." The nurse explained to Colleen that they were giving her son drugs to counteract the Tylenol, which is processed through the liver. If the drugs worked, his liver would take less of an "assault". She explained that they did regular blood tests for Tylenol levels and they would keep Colleen updated. The nurse explained that every body is different. Some livers can handle an assault and some cannot. She used the same words as the doctor-"fatal dose".

Colleen hadn't slept much since the text message that started it all. She hoped to be able to sleep when she returned home that evening. But, sleep eluded her. She opened a Bible and turned through a few pages. Her eyes landed on Psalm 91.

Because he loves me, says the Lord, I will rescue him;

I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.

He will call upon me and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble,

I will deliver him and honor him.

With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.

Colleen felt grateful and validated. God saved her son. Indeed he did have a hope and a future.

Colleen's son doesn't remember anything from being in the park on Monday afternoon to getting out of bed on Thursday. But, he survived with very little liver damage after all. He still lives with Major Depressive Disorder. He still lives....

Colleen says she learned "life's hardest lesson" that day in her car, that night alone in the dark, and the following morning at the hospital. She is going to share that lesson with us tomorrow along with some valuable insight into "why" she believes her son did what he did. And tomorrow is Thanksgiving....how appropriate.

Life's Hardest Lesson (part two)

2010-11-23T06:24:00.008-06:00

Colleen saw the ambulance in the south parking lot of the park. Just beyond the park, a police car was parked in front of her house. An officer was standing in her driveway. Colleen assumed he was the same officer she had been talking with.

Colleen's adventure with her son began several years earlier. He joined their family as a teenager. It had taken a lot of work, displays of commitment and spackle and paint to repair the property damage but this kid was hers now. Somehow, a street-wise wanna be gangster and a suburban career woman had become mother and son. They experienced more than their share of raised eyebrows. The kid had his own way of managing the pain and trauma he once experienced. Colleen always defended him. She was constantly surprised by the lack of actual thought that went into some people's comments. "He is a residential kid." or "You won't change him. Kids like him don't change." Kids like him. Who says things like that? Plenty of people and they do it without really thinking. That was Colleen's opinion. She watched the police officer stand in her driveway. He was waiting for her. Mentally, she was bracing herself for what he would say.

Colleen argued with herself as she drove past the ambulance. She knew her son was inside. What kind of mother drives right past the ambulance? The kind who knows she has to work with the system. The kind who has been trained by life's experiences to put her own emotions on hold and deal with the current crisis. She turned onto her street. The officer stepped aside so Colleen could park in her driveway.

Colleen and the Police Officer exchanged introductions in the driveway. He told Colleen that he had been trained in mental health issues. He knew what he was doing. Colleen thanked him for his assistance and said she was grateful for his expertise in this area. Then the Officer said, "I don't think your kid took what he said he took. There is no way he took as many pills as he says."

"Well, my kid does a lot of things wrong." Colleen said, "But lying is not usually one of them. He does not lie. He doesn't care what any of us think so he has no reason to lie."

"I have answered a lot of suicide attempts." The Officer said, "If your son took what he says he took, he would be puking all over the place."

Colleen knew the Officer was wrong about this. "He has a very high tolerance for medication." She said with certainty, "He always has to take high dosages of every medication that is prescribed. This is documented. His Psychiatrist could confirm this for you and the Paramedics. I could call him." Colleen was dialing as she spoke. She left a message for the Doctor. "He will call back." She told the Officer, "We will need him to call ahead to the hospital too."

Then the Officer said, "It will be up to the paramedics if your son goes to the hospital. We need to see what he took."

Colleen stepped inside her son's room with the Officer. She took a breath. It was messier than usual and the window was open. As she closed the window, she glanced down at the empty Malibu bottle on the floor. "He told me he drank this."

"Well, that's the other thing," the Officer said, "I gave him a Breathalyzer and he blew it clean. There is no alcohol in his system."

"He does not lie." Colleen said. An empty Tylenol bottle was on the bed with an empty Advil bottle and some packaging from cold medicine. "Here are the empty bottles." She handed them to the Officer. "He needs to go to X hospital. That is where his psychiatrist has admitting privileges. That is where he has gone in the past."

The Police Officer stated again that it would be up to the paramedics. He used his radio to read off the labels of the bottles to let the paramedics know what he had found. As he was leaving, the Officer said it was his opinion that Colleen's son was playing games. He's just trying to get someones attention.

Colleen rolled her eyes on the inside. Thoughtless. Outwardly, she thanked the Officer and repeated her desire for the paramedics to choose X Hospital. The Officer said the paramedics would call her with their decision.

Colleen went upstairs, spoke to her husband on the phone and watched through the guest room window. The ambulance stayed parked right where it was. Why aren't they taking him to the hospital? She asked herself, "It's been two hours since the text message. Two hours since he took all that medication. Doesn't he need to get to the hospital?"

Another long hour passed before the ambulance moved. Colleen received a call that the paramedics were indeed taking her son to Hospital X. They had spoken to the Doctor and notified the ER they were on the way. The hospital was a half hour away. Colleen asked the paramedics about the time frame and she was assured by the medics that they felt this was the best course of action. It would be 3.5 hours between the time her son took the pills until he would be seen at the hospital. That seemed like a long time to Colleen. The paramedics told her that her son would be seen in the ER and then transfer him to the Psychiatric Unit. She could call the hospital in a couple of hours for an update.

Colleen felt some relief. She couldn't believe this had happened but things seemed to be under control now. She talked to her husband about the days events, but no one else. She didn't want to talk about it. Who would understand anyway? And it was exhausting. Colleen tried to sort out the events in her mind. In the past, she knew when her son was spiraling. This time, she hadn't seen the crisis coming. She wondered what triggered this.

Two hours later, Colleen called the hospital. The nurse at the ER said her son had been seen and admitted. That was fast! Maybe the fastest hospital admission in history! Colleen asked if she could speak to someone on the unit. The ER nurse said she would transfer her. Colleen waited on the line for the nurse to pick up. She was surprised when the phone was picked up and she heard on the other end, "ICU".

ICU! Intensive Care Unit. Why is he in the Intensive Care Unit? Colleen's mind was spinning again as she asked these questions. The nurse replied it was standard procedure for all overdose patients to come to the ICU. Colleen asked if he was ok. The nurse replied, "For now." What does that mean? When she asked for more details about his condition, Colleen was reminded that her son was an adult and there was no release on file. "He will sign one. Have him sign one." The nurse agreed to ask for a release. She told Colleen to call back in 45 minutes.

Forty five minutes is a long time to wait. Colleen was the only one awake. Her husband and child had gone to sleep. She sat alone in the dark, playing online and texting her boss and one friend. Her boss offered to meet her and wait with her. Although she declined the offer, it made Colleen thankful to have such supportive people in her world. When 45 minutes had passed, Colleen called the hospital and asked to speak to the ICU.

A doctor picked up the phone. A doctor. Not a nurse. And he sounded serious. "Colleen, are you aware of the events that happened today?" Yes. "Are you aware of what has happened since your son arrived at the hospital?" The doctor sounded so grave. Oh my God, Colleen thought, he is going to tell me my kid is dead. Her mind was racing again. The doctor was talking about the events of the evening. Her son did not arrive at the hospital in time to have his stomach pumped. His body would have to deal with the medication he took. They would give him medacine to counteract the Tylenol. There were no guarantees. Colleen asked the doctor if her son was going to live. "I won't confirm it tonight," he said sternly. "We will know more in the morning.....liver damage...liver transplant....." Colleen could no longer process all the words. "The police officer didn't believe my kid. He didn't believe my kid took what he said. He said my kid was just seeking attention," she told the doctor. The doctor sounded disgusted when he replied, "Whatever. I've ordered bloodtests to confirm it but your son took a fatal dose." Fatal dose. Liver transplant. Organ damage. I won't confirm if he will live. The doctor said Colleen's son didn't want to talk to anyone that night. "I think we should respect that." he said, "Your son knows you love him. He told me that. We can call you if something happens.. Colleen thanked the doctor and hung up.

Sitting alone in the dark, there was nothing for Colleen to do but pray.....

Life's Hardest Lesson (part one)

2010-11-22T20:26:00.003-06:00

Driving was something Colleen was used to. She drove regularly for her work as she had an important client in another city. Routinely, Colleen visited her client and drove there and back in the same day. It was on one of these days when she experienced some of her most frightening moments as a parent. She has decided to share her story with us with the hope that what she experienced might provide some insight and understanding.

It was cold outside that day. Colleen and her family had just returned from a beach vacation the day before. Colleen allowed herself to daydream as she drove. She dreamed of moving to the beach city she had visited. She could almost feel the warm sunshine and sand between her toes. Her daydream was interrupted by the beep on her blackberry that indicated the arrival of a text message. It was from her young adult son's ex-girlfriend. "He sent this and I thought you should know," the message read, "I'll love you till I die and that won't be much longer."

Sigh. Colleen wasn't sure what to think. She had spoken to her son earlier that day. He seemed fine. He was making weekend plans. This was not the first time he had sent this girl such a message and it also would not have been the first time the girl twisted words and played games. Colleen knew for sure that whatever was going on, it was not good. She was still an hour from home when she dialed her son's number.

"Yeah" he answered.

What are you doing?

"Nothing."

How are you?

"I'm fine now."

Are you thinking about hurting yourself?

"No."

If you're not thinking about hurting yourself then why are you sending text messages saying "I'll love you till I die and that won't be much longer."?

"I'm not thinking about hurting myself anymore..."

Oh thank God, Colleen thought to herself. She noticed her hands were shaking.

But her son went on, "I'm not thinking about it anymore because I have already done it."

What has he done? What has he done? What has he done? Please God. I am still an hour from home. Thoughts swirled through Colleen's mind and she tried to sound calm as she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I took a lot of pills," her son said. He said it matter-of-factly as if he was telling her what he ate for lunch.

What did you take? Colleen asked. It was hard to breathe. It was so hot in the car.

"I went through the house and took everything I could find. I took it all. Tylenol. Advil. Children's Tylenol. Cold Medacine. I also drank your Malibu."

Is this real? Really? Is this happening? Thoughts raced as traffic slowed. Colleen felt like she was in a movie. She could see herself driving and she could picture her kid on the other end of the phone. She tried to control her shaky voice as she asked, "Where are you? Are you at home?"

"Nope. And I won't tell you where I am. I am going to die today. And you can't stop me."

Tears. Please God, give me the right words. Please get us through this. Please. Colleen asked her son, "So, are you someplace or just out walking around?"

There was a few seconds of hesitation before her son said, "I'm out walking around. I guess I will walk until I have to sit down and then I'll die."

She knew she had to get help. She was stuck in downtown traffic now. It would be at least 45 minutes before she made it home. "Buddy, if I hang up for a minute do you promise to answer your phone when I call back?"

"Yeah, I'll answer it."

"Do you promise to answer? If you're dying and I can't be there for you right now, I want to be able to talk to you. Do you promise?"

"Yeah. I promise I'll answer the phone and talk to you."

Colleen hung up and dialed 911. She was on a mobile phone so she didn't know who she was connected to. She asked to be connected to the 911 dispatcher in her city. When she was connected to her city, Colleen told the dispatcher she was managing a mental health crisis. "My son has a history of mental illness and self injurious behavior," she said. "He tells me he has taken alot of pills. He is not at home and he won't say where he is. He is out walking around. I need you to find him. I am on my way home from another city but I am 45 minutes away." The dispatcher promised to have an officer call her back within moments.

When an officer called back, Colleen repeated the information she gave the dispatcher. "He has a cell phone," she said "Can you track his signal?" The officer said they could track his signal as long as his phone was on. Colleen said she would call her son and keep him talking. The officer said he would start looking around the family's home. "He is very street smart." Colleen told the officer about her son, "He won't make it easy for you to find him." The officer promised to start looking and he would call back in 10 minutes.

Colleen called her son and tried to keep him talking. He sounded like he was shivering. He would not give up his location. Colleen told him that she had help on the way. He said they wouldn't find him but he understood why she wanted him to be found. Throughout the conversation, Colleen tried to sound calm and casual. She thought it seemed rediculous but necessary. Who is calm in this situation? Who in the world gets themselves into this situation in the first place? Still, she knew that to keep her son talking she had to be calm. She told her son if help should find him, they would probably take him to the hospital and if that happened maybe he would not die today. Maybe today was not his day to die.

Several times throughout the conversation, Colleen's son told her this was his decision and not her fault. He said he appreciated all that Colleen and her husband had done for him. They were the only people he could trust. Colleen knew this was a gift. But, what could she say in response? She kept repeating what she knew for sure. "We love you, Kid. Help will find you and get you to the hospital. We will get you the best medical treatment available." She looked around her at the other cars. Some people were also talking on the phone. What were they talking about? What would anyone think if they knew the nightmare that was playing out in her car? Colleen's son said that he couldn't walk anymore and he was laying down in the snow. "What's around you?" Colleen asked in desperation. Her son said tall trees, snow, a set of bleachers....

He was in the park! Colleen clicked over to the officer and said, "He is in the park! He said there are bleachers!" The officer said he had every officer in the city and one from another city inside the park. They would find him.

Colleen stayed on the phone with her son. Periodically she clicked over to the Police Officer who provided whatever updates he had. Tracking someone with a cell phone signal takes about 30 seconds on TV. In Colleen's real life drama, it took just under an hour. Just as Colleen was pulling onto the exit off the highway, the Officer told her, "We found him."

Relief swept over Colleen. "Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Colleen thought the worst was over. But, it was only just beginning...

Suicide touches most lives.

2010-11-20T07:55:00.003-06:00

It was almost two years ago. It was a Sunday afternoon and when I remember it, I always cry. It was just a phone call from Bear at Eagle View-where my Younger Kid was staying at the time. Bear's voice was shaky. Something happened. He had to tell me about a trajedy. "Younger Kid is ok." he said, "He has really been amazing actually." Then Bear went on to tell me that one of the boys had completed suicide. He hung himself in the bathroom. He was 15.

It was a short phone call. I was already planning on going to Eagle View the following day. I hung up the phone and cried. Why? Why? Why does a 15 year old boy make such an impulsive choice. A choice that ultimately ended his life and forever changed the lives of his family and friends. I cried for his parents, I cried for my Younger Kid. I thought about how I always said that my kid and his friends have their lives at stake. They live with illness that could take their lives. Sometimes, professionals would scoff at that comment as if I was being too dramatic. I always knew that it could happen. I always hoped it would not touch my boys.

When I arrived at Eagle View the next day, Rachel the therapist met me at the door. That had never happened before. She was upset. There was a serious and sober quiet at Eagle View that day. Rachel told me what happened. She described the staff's efforts to save the boy, who ultimately died at the hospital. She talked about how the staff was taking care of the boys who lived with him, including my Younger Kid. And then she talked about his parents.

They rushed to the hospital and then they came to Eagle View. In the middle of what must have been some of the worst moments of their lives, they were concerned for the other boys. My boy. And they wen tto Eagle View to talk with the boys and I think they ate a meal together. My kid told me that he went to his friend's Dad and said, "I'm sorry that you lost your son." Younger Kid said the Dad hugged him and said, "I'm sorry you lost your friend." They cried together. My son saw how much his friend's parents loved him. I never met those parents but I will be grateful to them forever for what they did for my kid and the rest of the boys that day.

I'm going to be telling a story over the next week or so. It's a true story about life's hardest lesson and the difficult truth that depression can kill a person. I'm going to talk about it honestly. I had a discussion with a man recently who toold me about someone close to him who had attempted suicide. "I told him it was stupid and not to do it again." the man said, "I told him he was selfish." Understandable feelings. Why would someone make such a choice?

It might be a hard story to tell. It might be a hard story to read. But, I think we need to talk about it. I hope you will read and comment about your thoughts.

Changing Lives

2010-11-07T06:34:00.006-06:00

If I am anything, I am a parent who has received support from NAMI MInnesota. And that support changed my life.

Raising children who live with mental illness isolated me as a parent. I remember the days when my Younger Kid was engaging in ever increasing risky behaviors, getting suspended from school, and spiraling so fast my husband and I could barely hang on to him. During that time, I lost jobs and lost friends all the while trying to keep a brave face and learn to live in a world that included regular visits to the ER, hospitalizations and out of home placements, crisis plans and social services.

I have been talking for years about how the parents I met at NAMI's Parent Resource Groups changed my life. The parents I met there are my people. My people. They get me and I get them. We are parents. We are advocates. And as we ride the mental illness roller coaster with our kids, we have one another for support, for understanding, for ideas. Time and again, I see this cycle repeat itself as more parents continue to join us.

Yesterday was the day of the annual NAMI Conference. Before the Keynote, I ran into one of my people in the hallway and we decided to try to save a table for ourselves and any other parents from our group who might be coming. We picked a spot and I started setting up "stuff" so other parents would recognize the table as ours. I saved a seat with my pink Drama Mama scarf, another with a lia sophia catalog (we are nothing without our bling) and I went through my bag looking for more items recognizable to my people. I laughed so hard as I looked up and saw my parent friend place a hand written sign in the middle of the table. "Reserved-Drama Mamas". Duh. I don't know why I didn't think of a simple sign. We are a group of parents from all walks of life. We have different experiences, strengths and perspectives. It is what we have in common-our children-that bonds us together.

I sat with my people at a very crowded table during the conference. And I felt proud to be among them. Several times during the day my eyes filled up with tears of gratitude and amazement as I looked around that table at my people and around the room at my co-workers and the leadership of an incredible organization.

I am a parent who has received support and education from NAMI Minnesota. I am grateful beyond words for every life that is changed by parent to parent support. One parent who is new to our group hugged me tightly yesterday as she was leaving. With tears in her eyes she said, "I get it now. We all save each other."

"Yep." I said. "See you Wednesday."

The statistic that changed my life

2010-10-29T06:51:00.007-05:00

Is there something you care about that is so big you know all your efforts could never even put a dent in it? Does it overwhelm you spend too much time thinking about it? Can it keep you up at night?

Seven years ago, when my husband and I were going through pre-adoptive training, we learned a statistic that overwhelmed and saddened us. And it called us to action. After hearing this statistic, we pursued the adoption of older, teenage boys. The statistic was this:

Almost 80% of children who turn 18 and "age out" of foster care become homeless or incarcerated within one year.

These are kids who do not have adults available to them-for many reasons-and are left on their own without resources or support at an age when many typical kids cannot be on their own. Our state has some legislation that allows these kids to remain in care until they are 21, which is great. I don't know if every state does.

Our youngest son turned 18 this year and we thought seriously about adopting again, but we don't qualify because one of our sons plead guilty to assault in juvenile court. We could go through a process called "reconsideration", but we declined to do so. And I wondered how we would help more kids if we could not adopt them. What can we do about the thousands of kids with no support?

Well, my son has a friend....

That in itself is an amazing statement! This particular son does not make friends easily and this boy is a true friend to my son. They have been through hard things together. My son's friend is a leader among kids and he helps my son talk out his thoughts and make good choices. The friend is a boy who does not have many adults available to him. My son brought him home last weekend for a visit.

What an awesome kid! I'm sure he is tough--I'm sure he has made unfortunate choices and I'll bet somewhere there is a file several inches thick documenting all of his challenges. I don't care about those things.

I overheard part of a conversation between my son and his friend. It went like this:

My son, "Man, just because I shoplifted one time, she cut all my pockets out of all my pants!"

(That is true-I did cut out all his pockets. Kids who use their pockets to steal other people's property do not get to have pockets. That's the charm of me.)

Friend says, "You were lucky, Man. My mom has never cared about what I do."

Sad, isn't it? My heart was breaking for this kid. He was being so honest. I went around the corner into the kitchen where the boys were talking. I went up to my son's friend and said with all the authority I could manage, "Buddy, if you take something that doesn't belong to you, I will cut out all your pockets too!"

The kid grinned a mile wide.

I think my sons and their friends have good hearts. Sure, they have challenges too. But they want to do well. They want to make good choices. And they want an adult to care about them. I think a lot of people miss the good that's in kids like mine. I feel blessed that God allows me to see it.

I cannot help but believe that whatever investment of time we make in kids will pay off in big ways. Will you befriend a kid if you have the chance?

Silly Doofus!

2010-10-12T20:12:00.001-05:00

Girlie and Older Kid adore each other. There is no other way to say it. And every since the pickle incident, Girlie calls Older Kid a Doofus. Doofus is Older Kid's new name. And she gets mad if anyone else calls him Doofus. Older Kid is her Doofus.

Last weekend our family took a little road trip to Grandma's house. Older Kid came along and during the drive, my husband was telling him the story of how we blew a tire on our Suburban the week before.

Older Kid asked, "So, we're driving on a donut right now?"

Before my husband could respond and say that we already had the tire fixed, Girlie piped up. "That's just silly!" She sounded annoyed, rolled her eyes a little, looked at Older Kid and said, "You are such a Doofus!"

Hillarious...

The Mother of all Life Lessons

2010-10-11T09:39:00.004-05:00

"We moms should never build the stability of our identity on the fragility of our kid’s choices."

-Lysa TerKeurst

I remember the first time one of my kids was charged with a crime. It felt like I was the one who was charged. And when the call came from the Principal to come to school to 'discuss this most recent behavior", it felt like I had done the wrong. And I remember the day when one of the boys' therapists looked at me and said, "You are doing everything right. You are doing a good job." I didn't know if I should laugh at her or hug her. So, I just said, "Thanks". I am sure that the therapist did not mean for her words to be some defining parenting moment for me, but they were. I have never forgotten them. So began my realization that being a mom doesn't make me responsible for my boys' choices.

Lysa TerKeurst is the President of Proverbs 31 Ministries. She writes a blog that I read everyday. Today, Lysa writes aobut this topic-The Mother Load. She says, "Motherhood is tough you know? It really is. However, it’s also our only opportunity to reach into the generations to come and make a difference. So, an imperfect but wonderful difference I will make."

One of my boys taught me an invaluable lesson earlier this year. I used to worry all the time, especially about this particular son. How will he support himself and his family? What if he doesn't finish school? Where will he work? What if he falls in with the wrong kids? What if he starts using drugs or drinking? I was worried every day about his future, and my kid taught me to focus my energy on the present instead.

He was in the hospital. Intensive Care. He was there as a result of one of his choices. The doctor said he could not guarantee the kid would survive the night and if he did survive, he would have major organ damage. Alone in the dark and faced with such a devestating prognosis, I had no one to turn to but God. Sometimes God does give us more than we can handle so we have no one to go to but Him. Then he can reward us.

I looked at a Bible. I opened it up and started reading it. Psalm 91. "Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation."

It was a message right from God. He wanted me to know that He was going to look after my kid. My faith grew a ton during the days my son was so gravely ill. And I learned that the most important place to put my energy is right now. In this moment. Because if today is a good day then tomorrow will likely be a good day and if tomorrow isn't a good day, then at least I will have the memories I made today.

I no longer worry about the "what if's". I am thankful for every day that I get to be that particular son's Mom. He is a blessing to me. I love him very much.

Happy Birthday to my Younger Kid

2010-10-04T06:53:00.003-05:00

The sun is nature, warmth and light,

giving life, and hope and might.

And though it may be far away,

will touch the child with every ray.

The heart is nuture, love and grace,

lives for each smile upon your face.

Teaches what you need to know,

makes you laugh and helps you grow.

For one a wish that runs so deep,

her child a home to safely keep.

Another's wish so true and bold,

a child to love and teach and hold.

The star-the wish of the two.

Heaven makes them both come true.

In all ways merciful and mild

Their star-their cherrished wish-the child.

-Cherished Wish by Sherra Buckley

I sat on the floor of the walk in closet and wrote these words over and over again. I doodled across the paper. I wept. Life wasn't working out according to my plan. The plan laid out in this pretty little poem.

"a home to safely keep". My pen doodled around the words-drawing circles and clouds around that phrase. "Safely". Really? Madness ruled our home. Younger Kid was hospitalized for the 5th time in 12 months. His treatment team was looking for an opening in residential treatment. Life was not as I imagined. Not at all. I remember thinking somehow we just have to hang on until he turns 18.

That's today. My Younger Kid is legally an adult.

It has been amazing to witness the changes in my Younger Kid over the years. He has not been able to move back home, but he is very much a part of this family. I have seen my son's demeaner transform to one of mostly calm and insightful. He has a job working with younger children. He has made and kept one good friend. He is on track to graduate from high school in the spring.

I'm going to see my Younger Kid today. Wish him a happy birthday, bring presents and have lunch with him and his friends. It's not the life we planned, but it is a life that works. Regardless of our living arrangements, I am so proud to be Younger Kid's mom! I love him with all my heart! Happy Birthday!!

The thing that makes my family different

2010-10-03T19:47:00.001-05:00

Commitment can be defined by a ham and egg breakfast. The chicken was involved, but the pig was committed! ~Unknown (and my friend Diane)

I love that quote! Makes me smile every time. My friend Diane found me that quote after we had a conversation about the commitment it takes to keep our family going.

I spend a lot of time advocating for the idea that adoptive families are like everyone else. For the most part, we are the same. We love our children. We plan for them. We have dreams for their futures. We collect school projects and pictures. And we have disagreements with our children too. We struggle with the balance of discipline. Let’s face it. Raising kids–any kids–is hard. Throw in a half a dozen mental illnesses and see what happens.
That’s the difference I’m talking about. Not the illness itself, but the ongoing assault on the parent’s commitment that the illness brings. Add to that other factors like the age of the child at the time he joined the family. The trauma he may have suffered in his early life and it’s impact on his psyche. And a system of care that tends to blame parents.

Blame is poison.

Time and again, in my own family and in other families what happens to parents when they feel blamed. It hurts. I can give an example. Shortly after our family asked for help with Younger Kid, a comment was made by one of the professionals. ”Maybe we need to screen pre-adoptive parents better.” Ouch! Years later-that still stings. And it is nothing. Nothing compared to what so many parents experience. Blame hurts. The hurt leads to parents feeling defeated. ”What’s the use?” ”I have already failed my family.” ”Maybe they should screen pre-adoptive parents better.” And that defeat can lead to a parent giving up.
If you are a professional working with our families, please don’t allow this to happen! Please do everything in your power to help adoptive parents honor the commitment they have made to their children. In doing so, you are helping the child too. The power is yours and you can do with it as you choose, but I beg you to consider the following.

1. No amount of pre-adoptive training and screening can adequately prepare a parent for what they are going to experience. So much of raising our kids happens in heated moments. As humans, we all raise children the way we were raised, at least at the beginning of our parenting adventure. 16 hours of pre adoptive training is not going to change that. Especially when you consider that as pre-adoptive parents, we believe it’s going to be different with our kids. My parents raised my siblings and I in very traditional ways. I have a dad–an awesome dad–who used to say to us kids, “You can do what I say because you love and respect me or just cause you’re afraid. It doesn’t matter to me. But, you will do what I say.” My Dad was a great dad–for me. But, how do you think that line went over with my Older Kid, the King of Oppositional Defiant Disorder? Not so much. As parents we have to learn to parent our adopted children differently. And that learning is a process that starts with accepting that our kids are different. It’s not going to happen overnight or even in a month. And certainly not with a few hours of training. Please be patient with parents as they learn that they need to change their parenting. Please support parents and educate them without judgement or blame. Affirm that they are doing exactly the right things.

2. Kids living with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) have to learn about commitment. And the only way they can learn is to experience. I have written about my Older Kid and the beginning of how our family discovered that it was commitment that was most important to him. We have been through so much with both our boys–but we are all ok. We are all a family. I know as a professional, it may be tempting to say, “these parents don’t get it.” You may be tempted to take custody of that child and find him a new home. I ask you not to do it. Support the family instead. Work with the existing parents. Affirm their commitment to the child. Help them keep that commitment. Provide family therapy, a solid crisis plan, authorize residential treatment when it is appropriate.

I know that as professionals, it may seem that the right thing to do would be to fine a CHIPS (child in need of protection or services) Petition, take custody of a child and move on. But, I beg you not to do it. Why?? Because it gives the family an out. And they don’t need an out. They need a way to stay in. They need to teach their child about commitment. They can’t do it alone. It is simply too much.

To all the professionals out there, I ask you to please stand shoulder to shoulder with our families and support them. Please provide services that support a family’s commitment. Include marriage and family therapy for parents who don’t know if they can take anymore. Use your influence to involve the community (crisis teams, school, and police) in planning a response for the next mental health crisis. Help parents feel in control. Eliminate blame and build them up.

I used to say I wished things were “just this much easier” as I held up my thumb and index finger about a half inch apart. As professionals, you have power. Please use it to make it possible for a family to honor their commitment to their child. You can make it “just this much easier.” So many kids and parents are counting on you.

Advocacy on Purpose

2010-09-27T04:53:00.002-05:00

Having a kid with a disability doesn’t make you an advocate anymore than having a pair of running shoes makes you an athlete.

I call myself an Accidental Advocate because I didn’t plan on being an advocate. If you had asked me ten years ago, I probably did not know what an advocate was. About a year ago after reading my blog, my boss told me, “You are not an accidental advocate. You are an advocate on purpose because you do things intentionally.” So, a class called Advocacy on Purpose was born. I’m teaching that class later today. It’s one of my favorites because it is for parents and it is about the truth.

Have you ever sat with a professional and felt inadequate, incompetent, and evaluated? I have. I remember one meeting that took place in the fall of 2005 shortly after Younger Kid was arrested at school where the principal actually reached across the table and patted my hand. She said, “You’re having such a hard time today because we are just real rational here at school.”

Inadequate. Incompetent. Evaluated.

And I did not reach across the table and choke the woman. Oh no. I did something far more effective. I cried. I cried tears of shame and frustration. Why was I the only person at the table who understood what Younger Kid needed? Why didn’t the professionals want to do the right thing for him? Why did the school always say no to me?

I’m convinced the answer is because my pleas were coming from an emotional place. I wanted the professionals to do what I felt was best for Younger Kid because it was the right thing to do. I wanted them to be motivated by their own morality and good judgement. I wanted them to feel something for my kid and make their decisions based on those feelings. I did not know that professionals don’t make decisions based on feelings.

As a parent of a child with illness, no professional has ever told me the “rules”. None of the professionals have ever told me what they consider to be truth. I don’t know why they haven’t. Perhaps they thought I already knew. Maybe they thought it would be inappropriate or unprofessional on their part to share. Maybe they thought I wouldn’t understand or maybe it never even occurred to them to tell me. Maybe they took it for granted that someone else had already done that.

Three and a half years after the “rational” incident, the social worker asked me to fill out a stack of paperwork to have Younger Kid declared disabled. I protested and said that Younger Kid was not disabled. She looked at me and said, “He has a GAF score of 20. He’s disabled.” Something clicked in my brain that day. And I “got it”.

I had seen the GAF score and the Diagnostic Assessment. I had copies of the CAFAS and school evaluation and IEP and all the documents professionals create. I had read them or at least looked them over although I didn’t understand what they all meant. I reviewed them and filed them. But, that day with the Social Worker was the first time I realized that professionals use those documents and assessments to make judgements about kids. Those documents and assessments are the professional’s truth. And they make their decisions based on that truth. It only took me four years from the time I brought Younger Kid home to figure that out.

“And the truth will set you free.”

My goodness this is a big truth. This is huge for parents. If we learn what is considered by professionals to be true–laws, rules, the GAF score on the bottom of the Diagnostic Assessment–we can use these truths to negotiate on behalf of our children.

Advocacy on Purpose is for the parent in you who has cried in front of the principal. The parent who feels inadequate, incompetent, and evaluated. Advocacy on Purpose just lifts that parent right up! Because now, instead of crying or screaming, instead of begging professionals from that emotional and moral place where we want them to meet us, we can do something better. We can plant ourselves in what we know for sure is true and speak from that place. That, my friends, is advocacy on purpose. Here’s how we do it.

Having kids with illness or disability doesn’t make us advocates automatically. Parents need education and support. They need to organize their documentation, learn how to use language and storytelling to their benefit and learn to negotiate. It sounds like a lot, right? Here are a few pointers to get you started.

Education

Take classes. NAMI has classes for parents and they are all free. For classes that are not free, ask if scholarships are available for parents. Do what you can to learn as much as you can about your child’s illness and how it is treated. Learn about the Diagnostic Assessment, the IEP and school evaluation. Learn about related laws and policy. An educated parent doesn’t have to sit and cry at the meeting. That parent can plant herself in the truth and speak from there. ”I don’t know what you consider rational, but I do know that my kid is entitled by law to a free and appropriate public education. What accommodations can you make for him so he can be successful at school?”

Support

I have written before about how important support is for parents. Parent to parent support changed my life. It can change yours too. Many of the good ideas I’ve gotten for my kids have come from other parents who have been there.

Organize your documentation

My Social Worker has a binder. A big one. And it is full of paper and it looks important. She would always put that binder on the table and that’s how I knew she was ready for our meeting. So, I got myself a binder. I picked the same color and size as the Social Worker. I wanted it to be full of paper and look impressive so I put copies of all Younger Kid’s current documentation inside. I have tabs for school, day treatment, medical, county, legal, etc. I keep the most current documents in the binder. The first time I took that binder to a meeting, I felt better. Adequate. Competent. Impressive. Some professional would say, “Oh, I don’t know if I have a copy of the IEP.” Oh, I have it right here in my binder. Would you like to make a copy of mine? The binder rocks! In Advocacy on Purpose class, every parent gets a binder. One parent who took the class even has a little stamp that says “copy” and she keeps an extra copy of all her documents with “copy” stamped on them. So, when a professional at her meeting asks for a document, she hands them one of her “copy”s. Awesome.

In my career before kids, I always felt equal at meetings. I felt comfortable walking into any conference room with any Vice President . I knew I’d be listened to. I felt competent. Having the binder did that for me at meetings that concerned my kids. Go get yourself a binder today. Or come to Advocacy on Purpose and get one for free. Either way, you are going to feel so much more confident.

Another organizing tip is to document events on a calendar. If you have a kid like mine who displays behaviors as symptoms of his/her illness, then a calendar will be invaluable to you. During the summer of 2008 when Younger Kid lived at home, I used a calendar to track the big incidents. I just made a note about it. When I took him to the hospital, a nurse asked me how many times that summer was his behavior too difficult to manage. I looked in my calendar. Nine times. I would have guessed five or six, but it was 9 and I had the documentation right there with me. The doctor also looked at the calendar. It turned out that most of those 9 times were after 4 pm, so he used that information to make medication adjustments for Younger Kid.
As a parent, I also printed myself some business cards. They are inexpensive and you can get them online or at any office supply store. Parents should have cards to hand out at meetings. It puts you on the same level as professionals. I felt like I belonged a little more. Adequate. Competent. Impressive.

Later this week, I will share more about language and storytelling and negotiation. Until then, go make your binder! Get empowered and find yourself some support.
Have a great week!

How God taught me about Grace

2010-09-09T05:18:00.001-05:00

But by the grace of God I am what I am. And his grace to me was not without effect. -1 Corinthians 15:10

Like so many of the good things in the Bible, I read this verse for the first time this summer. I grew up reading the Bible in a very strict and rigid religion. I abandoned that religion as an adult and what I remember about it usually makes me feel afraid, evaluated, and unworthy. As a child, I was taught God is not one to be mocked (Galations 6:7) and bad associations spoil useful habits (1 Corinthians 15:33). The religion of my childhood teaches that only a select few go to Heaven and that the world as we know it will be destroyed and replaced with a paradise-but only after much suffering. My childhood religion works for millions of people, but for me, it inspired a fear of God and I felt that I could never measure up. I did not attend church or practice any religion throughout my twenties and most of my thirties. God was something that was not available to me and that did not bother me. I was indifferent toward God and the Bible until 4 years ago when something happened that changed my family forever. And in the midst of that tragedy, God reached for me and taught me about His grace. It was four years ago this coming Saturday.

I could not sleep on the night of September 11, 2006. I went to the living room to watch television–Jay Leno. because of the date, the show was dedicated to our Troops and when it came time for the music, a Military Officer sang “Amazing Grace”. He did a beautiful job. It was like hearing the song for the first time. I had goosebumps and I wrote down the Officer’s name with the intent of ordering the music the following day. A few hours later, I received a phone call from my brother. I learned that my baby sister, Tami, was being pronounced dead at the scene of an accident during the moments that I listened to that song.

Tami was 27. She was the devoted wife of a youth pastor, she enjoyed her work at the airline. She had great friends. She was artsy and hip. And she was gone in a split second.

The first few hours after my brother’s phone call were a flury of planning and activity. My brother and my husband set out on a road trip to tell my parents the worst news they would ever hear. Alone in the middle of the night, it occurred to me that I had no belief about where Tami was. According to what I was taught as a child, the dead are conscious of nothing at all. I sat on my bed and tried to absorb the idea that I would never see my sister again during my life. But, I could not accept what I was told as a child. Suddenly, God and Heaven took on a new importance to me. I sat alone in the darkness and I prayed. ”God, I am sorry to do this. I was raised not to question you, but I am going to need some proof about Heaven. I need to know for sure that Tami is ok.”

I was on the phone throughout the night. Tami lived in Colorado with her husband Aaronn and our sister Kelli. I remember talking to Aaron in the darkness. I told him that sometime in the coming days, I was going to need some proof about Heaven. He said he would help me to understand.

Darkness gave way to morning and I sat on my bed processing the unthinkable. Only a few people outside of Colorado knew about the accident that had claimed Tami’s life just hours before. It couldn’t be true, but in case it was, I went back to God and respectfully questioned Him some more. “I think I might need a sign, God. Could I please have some kind of sign that Tami is with you in Heaven and that she is ok?” I wandered around my small house and felt chilled so I stepped out onto the deck to feel the warm sunshine. I took note of how amazing it was that the unimaginable had happened yet the sun was still shining. And then I saw it-the gardenia plant.

My husband is a designer and talented gardener. We always have huge outdoor plants with giant blooms all summer. That particular summer, my husband struggled with a stubborn gardenia plant. The darn thing hardly bloomed at all. Just one or two flowers all summer. They were beautiful flowers but so elusive. But, that morning–right after I asked God for a sign–that plant had three big blooms. Three gorgeous white gardinia flowers all opened at the same time! In my mind I saw Tami and I knew…three flowers for three sisters.

About six months earlier, I had flown to Denver for a Bon Jovi concert. Tami had our tickets. She was proud becasue she paid for them and she wouldn’t take any money in return. She pulled the three tickets out of her bag. “Three tickets for three sisters.” she said smiling.

That morning on my deck I could imagine her smiling at me. “Three flowers for three sisters.” Thank you, God. Thank you for the sign. Thank you that Tami is ok. Thank you for the song last night. Thank you that Aaron will help me understand what I need to know about Heaven. Thank you that I know for sure that even though I cannot see her, Tami is somehow still with us. Thank you. Thank you.

This time of year challenges me. I am distracted too easily. My brain plays back my brother’s words in my head, “she was killed.” Killed. Killed. How I hate that word and yet it dances in my brain, bringing me back to that night over and over again. I long for the 11th to come and go. I crave my bed and my sheets and darkness and yet sleep eludes me. I always miss Tami, but I miss her more during this time. Yet, I am thankful….

Tami left me gifts. The gift of God’s Grace, the gift of her husband Aaron–a true friend I never expected, and her Frontier Girls. The dear friends she spent her last dinner with. I am thankful. They are all treasures to me–my living connection to my baby sister.

In one week, we will all be together for Kelli’s wedding. Aaron will be presiding over the ceremony. “Something good needs to happen in September.” Kelli says. We will celebrate our family in the glorious presence of God and His grace. We will be at Tami’s park, and I’ll place three flowers on her bench. Three flowers for three sisters.

It's about the pie

2010-08-18T07:59:00.002-05:00

“My sister told me my pie in the sky way of thinking rarely pans out for people. I think she is underestimating all the pie up there.”
~Lori Deschene of Tiny Buddha

I know it sounds cliche, the old “attitude is everything” idea. I used to believe in it one hundred and fifty percent. Then I became my kids’ mom. And there were so many things I couldn’t change or make better or even deal with some days. So many unbelievable events fueled by behavior I had never even thought of. There were many days when, as a mother, all I could control were my own thoughts. And my own thoughts were not pretty, Friends. Not pretty at all. I wanted help. I wanted someone to fix it. Now, please.

When we finalized Younger Kid’s adoption, we separated our family from social services. That’s what happens. Frankly, I was happy to do it. I wanted my kid to have what I perceived to be a “normal” life. My definition of “normal” did not include a social worker. If I had only known…
We invited Social Services back. We needed help. How hard is it for a parent to make that phone call? What is it like to call the county and ask for help with your child? It’s a little bit hard. It’s made easier by the fact that Children’s Mental Health Case Management is voluntary. Services are available for kids who life with illness. The Social Worker who completed Younger Kid’s assessment told me, “I can get services for this kid all day long.” And I was happy. Because I heard him say, “I can fix this.”

Like many families, we didn’t know to ask for help until we really needed it. By the time we were assigned a social worker, Younger Kid’s behaviors were already swinging our whole family from one crisis to another. I remember the first day the worker came to my house. She was a nice woman-cute shoes and a sharp bag-”I’m here to support your family.” she said. My kid’s anxiety was off the charts. A social worker was in the house! He started mopping the floor around the table where the woman and I sat. She got hit in the head with the mop.
Things were out of control. My “pie in the sky” plan was not working out for me.
I was angry. I was demanding. I was depressed. I was terrified.

Have you been there? Are you there right now?

The system of care for kids with mental illness often includes county Case Management. A social worker. They are here to support families and work in the best interests of children. They have power and they also have resources our families desperately need. It’s nobody’s fault, but the system itself sets parents and social workers up to be adversaries. And it takes some efforts on everyone’s part to make things work.

Yesterday, I had the best meeting I have ever had with the people who support my kid at our county. The. Best. Meeting. Ever. I am still smiling. I feel thankful and very blessed. Our meeting yesterday was about four years in the making.

Based on my experience I have put together a few things parents and professionals can do to make their relationships better. Here we go…

1. Relationships

It’s about relationships. Work hard to build a good relationship with the person who is supporting your family. Serve treats when they come over. Chat about the kids. Recognize them as a person. We have had the same social worker for over 3 years and I like her. And I trust her. She is a good person. And I believe all that because I know her. We have a relationship. We have laughed together. We have shared chocolate. We each made an effort to genuinely like the other person. Our efforts have paid off over time.

2. Seek to understand

Do your best to be understanding of where professionals are coming from. Your life is not their life. They may or may not “get it” the way we do. They are doing their jobs. Ask them questions about what their job is. Seek to understand their point of view. Ask for it. So many times I have sat across from my social worker’s supervisor and asked him to explain his thoughts. I wanted to understand his point of view. There is a difference between understanding and agreeing. And it’s ok to be clear about the difference. We do not always agree. But, I do seek to understand.

3. Seek Support

If you are raising a child with mental illness, you have to have support from other parents. It is critical. I would not be here today writing this without the support of my friends. No one gets it like another parent. No one knows the system like another parent. If there is not parent to parent support in your area, I encourage you to call NAMI and ask for it. Start your own group. You won’t be sorry. Parent to parent support changed my life. It will change yours too.

4. Get educated.

NAMI provides free education classes for parents. Take advantage. Learn the laws that govern your particular circumstance. Knowledge is power. Knowledge creates confidence. You will feel better when you know better.

5. Question judgement but never question motives

This was an important lesson for me. I don’t question the motives of the people who serve my kids. They are there because they are good people who choose to make a difference. I whole heartedly believe that and I do not allow myself to question it. Having said that, they are human. And it’s ok to question someone’s judgement. ”Why did you make this decision?” That’s good. That’s seeking to understand. Do your best not to question the motives of other people. It takes you to a place in your head where you don’t want to go.

Success is, to some degree, about our own way of thinking. A “pie in the sky” way of thinking has been helpful to me. Everyone has trials. Focus your energy on what’s good. Practice gratitude. Build relationships. Seek understanding, support, and education. And give people the benefit of the doubt.

What are some of your experiences in seeking help for your family? Leave a comment so we can learn from each other.

I think a positive attitude is to raising kids as a powerful narcotic is to a painful injury. You’re still going to feel the pain….but you won’t care about it as much.
Have a great day, Friends!

Expectation Adjustment

2010-07-10T08:31:00.005-05:00

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them."

~Mother Theresa

"I don't care anymore what he does outside of this house." I told the Intensive Behavior Therapist about my Younger Kid, "If he assaults someone in the community, the Police will deliver a consequence. If he does it at school, they will manage it. I will go to court with him, but I don't care about it anymore. I only care how he behaves in this house."

It is just not possible to describe the level of stress in our lives during those days. I lived for over a year with my stomach in knots. Stress and worry washed over me every second like the waves wash over the sandy beach. I was so afraid. My whole existence was dedicated to managing fear and risk. The Intensive Behavior Therapist is one of the professionals who held me up during those times. I leaned on her. She was always good to me. We were sitting at my dining room table when I said, "I don't care anymore". She looked at me and said, "Why do you say that?"

"Because I can't handle the judgement anymore. I am afraid that if I keep caring about what he does, I won't be able to love him. And he needs me to love him more than anything else, right?"

The therapist looked at me with understanding. She got it. She said, "I understand why you would say this. But, I don't recommend saying this to other people because they won't understand. It would make a lot of people angry."

I am grateful that God gave me that Intensive Behavior Therapist. One person in the world that I could say this to and she would understand. One person in the world to validate my feelings in my darkest days.

My experience gives me a perspective on Mother Theresa's words, "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." Of course I cared. Of course I did. But I needed to say that I didn't. I needed to trick my mind because caring--at that point--caused me so much anger and resentment that I was afraid I couldn't love my kid anymore.

Mental Illness was a monster that took up residence in my youngest son. I don't have to write about the specific behaviors, or symptoms of the illness. I know there are parents out there right this minute who are living with that same stress. I want those parents to know that they are going to be ok. Recovery exists, even if it is not to the level we hope for. There is healing. There is tomorrow. And tomorrow will be better.

Please share this with someone who needs it. Use the widget at the top right corner. Have an awesome weekend in the sunshine!

Some encouragement for your day...

2010-07-09T08:45:00.002-05:00

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Success is failure turned inside out--
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit."

~ Unknown

Get your Drama Mama on!

2010-07-02T08:22:00.007-05:00

How to find people who are like you.

"Any suggestions on how to find other moms in my area?" Oh yeah! I got lots of ideas...but one HUGE one! Are you ready?

Get your Drama Mama on!

That's right. Sign up for the NAMI Walk. And even if you live across the country, I think it is worth a road trip to join the Drama Mama walk team! Why?

Glad you asked.

**We have our own Drama Mama kick off party with our very own bartender! Peanut butter and jelly shots anyone?

**We are having our very own bbq this year right before the walk!

**There are Drama Mama Celebs on our team--like Activist Annie who you have read about in this very blog! And it is rumored that Rachel of blog fame may join us as well! I'm thinking everyone wants to be us! There is no telling who you might actually meet if you walk on our walk team!

**It is my opinion that just the tee shirt is worth your effort!

**I'm giving a special prize to every single blog follower who walks with us!

"Not so much." You say? I haven't convinced you? No problem! I am nothing if not understanding. Go to the NAMI Walk website and find the NAMI Walk in your state and sign up today! Call the walk coordinator and ask that person to help you find other parents.

You are not alone anymore!

I've been involved in NAMI Minnesota's parent resource groups for a long time. And the Drama Mamas walk team came from that group. We are all parents of kids living with an illness. We are group of advocates. We support each other. We educate the rest of the world about the illnesses that affect our families. Drama Mamas do amazing things!

But, don't let that scare you. We are not special nor do we have super human powers. We are like you. Finding support from other parents transforms us and we find out that we really are effective. We really are on top of things. We really are stars. And we learn that together, we can do this.

Follow the links and get involved today! Get involved with NAMI and if you are in Minnesota (or a days drive away) be a Drama Mama. Join our team and leave a comment letting me know you're in.

Parent to parent support changed my life! Come and meet my friends! They can change your life too!

And don't forget to share this blog with others. Use the buttons at the top right to link us to Facebook, Twitter, or wherever else you hang out online!

Have an awesome weekend!

Lessons of an Accidental Advocate

2010-06-26T06:49:00.006-05:00

strategies for thriving while managing your child's illness

When we brought home 14 and 11 year-old brothers in 2004 and asked them to join our family, I really had no clue what to expect. I didn't expect our journey to be easy. I expected the boys to get into trouble, be disrespectful, and have problems at school. But, I also expected good things. I looked forward to being "the house" in the neighborhood where the kids hang out. You know the one--maybe it's your house--where the cool headed, friendly yet firm parents live with a house stocked with good snacks and just the right balance of sports equipment and video games. I couldn't wait for the sports. Younger Kid is a gifted athlete and I so looked forward to football games, basketball and baseball and being "that Mom" who carpooled the kids to practice and out of town tournaments.

If you have been reading for awhile, you know I was pretty far off base in my expectations. I didn't know anything about mental illness. I didn't even know my boys lived with it. It was "emotional disturbance" and therapy would fix it. As much as our boys have struggled and been challenged, my husband and I have as well. While managing our sons' respective illnesses and behaviors, while learning what the diagnosis mean and trying to keep it all together, we have also been served up a few heaping doses of loss.

We are not "that house" where the kids hang out. Our Younger Kid cannot even bring a friend home with him when he visits. The system doesn't allow for that. And that's just the beginning. Parents live with varying degrees of loss and we adapt to the fast paced, demanding nature of or task. Here are some lessons I've learned over the years. Strategies for thriving (or simply surviving) some of your harder days.

1. Get your Drama Mama on!

Find a parent resource group group in your area or start one yourself. It doesn't have to be all parents of children with autism or a group only for adoptive parents. Join or create a group that is inclusive of all parents of children living with illness. You will reach more people this way and you will have more friends. I have shared the story of meeting my people. I wouldn't be writing this today without their support. No one "gets it" like another parent who has been there. My friends and I call ourselves Drama Mamas. We have our own tee shirts and our own bling. You better believe it! Someday, I will share more about my amazing friends....my Drama Mamas. In the meantime, go find yours! This has to be your number one priority because your kid will be ok if you are ok.

2. Kids do the best they can. All the time.

Yes, sometimes our kids manipulate us. All kids do. But, I choose to believe that mine are doing their best all the time. It's not the same from day to day. Dr. Ross Greene teaches us that our kids live with deficits. "Learning disabilities" in the areas of cognitive function and emotional regulation. And it's not as if the kid has a meter on his forehead letting the whole world know he is about to blow. As parents and caregivers, we must learn to read the signs. Sometimes we miss it.

I remember being on vacation with our boys in Florida. We had spent the day on the beach, surfed and played in the water, eaten all our meals out that day, walked around the pier and through the tourist shops and we ended that day in a crowded ice cream parlor on the beach. It was there, among about 100 other people that one of my kids called me the word that rhymes with punt. Oh yes he did! Loudly. Yep...and one father said, "If that were my kid......"

"What would you do?" I asked him. I explained that my kid had Mood Disorder, about half a dozen other diagnosis, and a traumatic past. "I am the one who pushed too hard today. He wanted to get my attention. He got it. I am sorry you and your family were affected. We're leaving now."

You better believe that my son and I had a serious discussion later about that particular word and he hasn't used it again. But, on that day when he was sunburned, thousands of miles from home, and really done--he did the best he could given his history.

3. It's not your fault. It's your challenge.

That's a line from one of my Drama Mama friends. It's a good one. The ice cream parlor story is a good example of the type of challenge parents have. If your kid is like mine and has skill deficits in emotional regulation, then as his parent, you have to step in as his external brain. And you have to know when to do it. That's the challenge. Sometimes we miss.

It is easy for other parents and even some professionals to witness some behaviors and make judgements about our parenting. "Maybe you should respond differently or make less demands." Maybe I should. I am just a parent doing the best I can. Nobody chooses this. In a recent survey of professionals many made the comment that parents need to be "more consistent and firm" and then their children would behave better. If I had a dollar for every time I heard something similar, we could be having this discussion on a beach at a tiki bar where I could be paying for all the drinks. Parents need support. Try hard to be gracious toward parents like me. Remember the words of Dr. Daniel Hughes, a highly regarded attachment therapist, who says, "The adults must constantly strive to have empathy for the child and to remember that given his history, he is doing the best he can."

Enough said.

4. Treatment is complex and untested.

There is no easy answer. For years, I lived under the assumption that we were one step away from being like everyone else. One med change, one court appearance, one hospitalization, one stay in residential treatment. Whatever "next step" was on the table, I firmly believed it was the answer. I will always remember the day in July 2008 when the social worker gave me a stack of paperwork to have one of my kids "declared disabled". I was stunned. Disabled? Really? It took me 7 months to complete that paperwork. I just couldn't bring myself to do it because doing it acknowledged what everyone else knew but me. There is no easy answer. There is not even a difficult answer. Treatment is complex, largely untested, and it is likely that my kid will struggle with illness throughout his life.

After writing that, I think #5 should be drink. Drink heavily. For that, I refer you back to #1. Get your Drama Mamas together! Parents need a lot of support!

5. Live in the moment.

After #1, I have to say this is the most important lesson I have learned. And it was hard. It took years and I almost lost one of my kids to suicide before I realized this one. Today is what matters. Right now. Put most of your energy into this moment. Be thankful for it. Even if your child is hospitalized or incarcerated, be thankful that he is safe and in the hands of professionals.

I used to spend a lot of mental energy worrying about my boys' future. For each of them, I would have a never ending circle of questions. Where will he live? What if he can't get a job? What if he gets a job and loses it? What if he ends up in prison? What if has children? What kind of father will he be? How is he going to manage college or any kind of post secondary training? How will he support himself? Take care of himself? Take care of anyone else?

I gave all that up and I am happier for it. I care that my boys are happy today. I care about today and focus most of my energy on that effort. Because if today is good there is a greater chance tomorrow will be ok. And if tomorrow is not ok, then I will have the memory of today. I am thankful for this. Not worrying is a real blessing. One day at a time. One moment at a time if that is what is required. Because at the end of my life, I am going to be so thankful for each of my boys and their presence in my life. They are a blessing to me and I choose to believe that doing my best has been a blessing to them. That is what matters. That's what we are all striving for.

If this article is helpful to you, I hope you will share it. Use the widget at the top right corner of the blog. You might be a parent who can benefit from support or you may know someone. You have my thanks in advance.

Hi. My name's Lynne.

2010-06-23T06:55:00.004-05:00

Recently, I made a decision to "go public" on my blog. So, I am writing to introduce myself. You can still call me Advocate Mom if you want to, but my name is Lynne. I'm pleased to meet you.

I am an advocate--an advocate for parents. Sure, I advocate for my children as all parents do. But, my passion is to help other parents. Parents of children living with illness need a lot of support and the best kind comes from other parents who have been there. Besides support, parents need education. Our mental health system of care is complex. What's the difference between a Psychiatrist and a Psychologist? What's Evidence Based Practice and why do parents need to know about that? What's a Diagnostic Assessment? What's a Neuropsych? What do you do when the school sends you written notice of a Manifestation Determination? What in the heck is a Manifestation Determination? What should a parent bring with them to the hospital emergency room? What happens when your child is arrested and/or charged with a crime? How can anybody manage all the paperwork? What type of therapy is best for my child? What's the difference between DBT and CBT? These are some of the topics I want us to explore together. Parents need education and support. Let's provide it.

Everything I had to learn to get here, I learned as I went. It wasn't easy and I'm not done. There is no manual for raising this kind of kid. A good friend of mine says, "Our kids don't have a hero." There isn't one. My friend says we're it. As parents, we are blazing new trails. A few years ago, I asked the hospital social worker, "What do other parents do?" Clearly we weren't the only parents with a kid like Younger Kid. What did other parents do to help their kid? The hospital social worker explained that he had been on the job for 34 years and that, as a matter of fact, my husband and I were the only ones. "Kids like Younger Kid don't have parents."

But our kids do have parents now! Because our system values treating kids within the community. That means they have families. Good people are working hard to find permanency for kids who need families and perspective parents are stepping up and taking responsibility for kids living with illness. And it's not just adoptive families we can help. Lots of parents have children who live with illness. One in 10 children live with a mental illness. It's not because their parents did something wrong. It's an illness. Recently, a father told me that he just wished there was someplace he could go for answers. He had a question, "My kid was charged with X, do I need a lawyer?" He said no one was willing to give him an answer. Let's find the answers together. Let's create a place where he can go for those answers.

I have been talking to a lot of parents lately for my work. We have been surveying parents and talking in focus groups about our experiences. You know what every single parent says. Every. Single. Parent. says they feel afraid, ashamed, and alone.

Afraid Ashamed Alone

We need to do something about that. Are you with me?

I'm going to work hard on this. Is there something you want to know? Leave it in the comments and I will do my best to find information for you. I also added a widget in the top right that makes it so easy to share this website. If this information is helpful to you, please consider sharing it. Somewhere, there is a parent who needs us.

June 22,2007

2010-06-22T06:53:00.003-05:00

"How far a person has come depends on where he started."

I honestly don't remember who I stole the quote from. Feel free to take credit if it was you.

Three years ago today, I brought Younger Kid to Eagle View for the first time. I have written about that day before, but in keeping with my tradition of never revealing specific behaviors, I did not write about our trip to treatment. I have decided to share that story today in honor of the person I see my Younger Kid becoming. Because to really appreciate him today, you just have to have a slice of the instability that once defined him.

Younger Kid started that day in the hospital. He had been there since May 23. Dr. Steele had been instrumental in getting residential treatment approved and had even gone as far as to recommend Younger Kid only be released to residential treatment, rather than to our home. Younger Kid had a pass from the hospital three days earlier when we visited Eagle View and I set out early on the 22nd to bring my son to Eagle View to live. He was 14. While he had been with us almost three years, he had lived only about 6 of the previous fourteen months at home. The rest of his time was split between 5 hospitalizations, a two-month stay at a group home, and a few 72 hour stretches in the physical custody of the police. Besides his diagnosis of Reactive Attachment Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, ADHD, and Anxiety Disorder, Younger Kid had been given a Mood Disorder diagnosis as well. Residential Treatment was deemed necessary to stabilize his medications and provide therapy in a setting where Younger Kid could be contained.

I wrote about Eagle View and how impressive it was. What I haven't told you was how we got there that day. In my experience with our boys, there are some things I just get through and survive. This trip was one of those things--I didn't really realize how difficult it was until long after it was over.

I picked up Younger Kid at the hospital that morning. Eagle View is three hour drive. I remember the Hospital social worker telling me that if we had any problems on our way, I should call him and he would send an ambulance to assist us. At the time, that seemed reasonable. Doesn't everyone who transports their kid to treatment have a back up ambulance offer? I guess not.

Younger Kid was wearing scrubs that day. He didn't have any clothes that fit him. He had been on a medication called Abili.fy and the med caused him to gain about 30 pounds in three weeks. I had bought him some clothes in preperation for living in treatment, but none of them fit. They were all too small. So, scrubs were it. I still had to buy dress shoes that were part of the school uniform and I planned to do that on our way. I attempted it at an outlet mall. Younger Kid became angry in the shoe store. The loafers that were required were too tight. He thought they were uncomfortable and refused to try anymore on. He quickly became escalated and threw several shoe boxes. He was stretched out on the floor in the midst of a three-year-old-like tantrum when I announced I would be in the car. Keep in mind that he was about 5'7 and weighed about 200 pounds. I took my 8-month-old Girlie and went to our vehicle, locked us in, and waited....This had become so familliar to me. I don't even remember being scared. Just irritated-mixed with tired and sad. We couldn't even buy a simple pair of shoes without needing police assistance. I sure didn't feel like I was doing my kid any good as his mother.
I felt hopeless, embarrassed, and alone.

A red faced, eyes bulging Younger Kid was pounding on my window. I put it down just enough to calmly tell him that if he chose to continue his tantrum, I would be calling the hospital and the police for an ambulance. He was not coming back in the car unless he could be calm. I showed him my phone. He quickly calmed down, began crying and apologizing and I let him back in the car where we drove the rest of the way to Eagle View.

I brought my kid to treatment three years ago today. And there was plenty about us to judge. He didn't have any clothes! He wore scrubs! Neglect anyone? His glasses were broken and had been for some time. The only place that took his insurance was located in a mall. There was no way to safely bring Younger Kid to a mall for several hours to get new glasses. Younger Kid was unstable and out of control. I was emotionally detatched. I had to be. My whole family had been living with Younger Kid's illness. Emotional seperation was how I survived.

We didn't experience any judgement that day. Nothing but understanding. They said they had clothes for the kids. I shouldn't worry. I left the clothes I had purchased so they could use them for another kid. They took the clothes and thanked me. I offered to leave money for the shoes Younger Kid needed. "No. It's our job to provide those." They would handle getting him new glasses too. The answer for all my concerns was, "Don't worry. This is our job." And when I left, I asked Bear to please stick with Younger Kid. "I don't think he has any other options if he can't make it here." Bear smiled and shook my hand. I remember he said, "I don't think that will be a problem."

My kid was on a team called the Eagles. While all the other names on my blog are made up, that one is real. I am using it because everyone associated with that team has my thanks and I want them to know it. That's all I can give them. And it would never be enough. To everyone who works with the Eagle kids--my Younger Kid owes you his life and his freedom. My husband and I could never have raised him without you. There just are no words sufficient to describe my gratitude. I love all of you. Thank you!

small miracles

2010-06-18T23:41:00.004-05:00

I took this picture from my deck tonight and thought, "Life doesn't really get any better than this, does it?"

This is a picture of my Younger Kid pulling Girlie around the block in her wagon. She is yelling at him, "Faster, Younger Kid! Faster!"

The importance of the moment was not lost on me. I treasure typical family interactions. It's a dream come true to watch my kids play together in the yard. I know how we got here. I know what it took. I watch my Younger Kid playing with his sister and all the bad stuff--the violence, the illness, the confusion and stress--doesn't matter anymore. Because we survived all that. And Girlie will never know any Younger Kid except the over-protective one who tirelessly pulls her around the block. And Younger Kid is no longer consumed with the rage that defined his early teens. He is free.

Younger Kid still has challenges. He still lives with illness and medication and staff and vunerability. But for a few hours tonight, he experienced true joy and the pure and perfect innocent love that can only come from a small girl looking up to her big brother.

I could only watch and feel grateful.

"Just be yourself." and "The glass is half full."

2010-06-07T07:57:00.005-05:00

There it is. The mission of this blog and my own existence.

I came to Minnesota when I was 18 years old. Right out of a small farming community and into the big, bustling city. On one of my first days as a college student, one of the teachers asked us to write about our goals for her class. As one of my goals, I proudly wrote, "to be a friend to everyone in this class." I displayed my naivete and the genuine honesty that came from being raised in Small Town, South Dakota-population ~1800. The teacher gave me a less than impressive grade. In addition, she felt the need to pull me aside and explain why it was unwise for me to pursue friendship with everyone in the class. "You can't be a friend to everyone."

Maybe not. But I can be a friend to Beemommy. She needs as many friends who "get it" as she can find because as she stated in her comment, "The assistant director of juvenile justice does not believe he (her son) can ever live in our home again, I choose to believe that the next thing will be the right thing that sets us both free to enjoy life." I don't know what her kid has done to make the Assistant Director of Juvenile Justice make such a comment. I don't know old the kid is. I don't know anything more about Beemommy than her name and some of her feelings. I can feel those feelings. Desperation. Sadness. FEAR. Anger.

When professionals told me their belief that Younger Kid should never live at home again, part of me felt relief and validation. "Thank God someone understands that I cannot do this. I cannot live this way." Another part of me, the Mama, felt offended. "How dare you make such a judgement about a boy who is just 16." Tha Mama in me felt the Professionals were writing Younger Kid off. Giving up. And Mama's don't give up on their kids.

Mary the Mom said, "It scares the *bleep* out of me when my son says stuff like this, because I know he means it, and I don't think others believe that." It is hard for many professionals to truly understand a parent's perspective. Sadly, in our system, some professionals move to blame parents or simply deny what is happening. "It can't be as bad as you say. Kids just don't do things like that." But our kids are not typical....

Since my Older Kid's suicide attempt in January, I have spent a lot of time worrying--really worrying--about his future. How is he going to make it? He lives with an illness that could take his life. What if.....

No more. I resolve to my very best to be a "glass half full" kind of gal. There are plenty of places you can go read about the horror stories of adoption. Lots of people are writing their worst-behavior-ever stories. I don't want to do that. I have no judgement towards anyone who does. At this point in life--that just isn't for me. "How far a person has come depends on where he started." My kids started in places most kids never even imagine. They cannot be judged on the same curve as everyone else.

Lots of parents are raising kids living with illness. Those parents need to hang onto hope-even if it's only a shred and by their fingernails. Parents need support. Let's work together to help provide that.

"Perfume and insense bring joy to the heart, and the pleasantness of one's friend springs from his earnest counsel." Proverbs 27:9

Have a great day, Peeps!!

Hope for kids who want to hurt people.

2010-06-04T14:56:00.003-05:00

Younger Kid and I sat in therapy last week with Rachel (stellar rock star therapist) and she was asking him to recall his first day in treatment and she asked him how he is different now. Younger Kid said, "Well, I don't want to hurt people anymore." Rachel tilted her head and asked, "You never really wanted to hurt people, did you?" Younger Kid replied quietly, "Yeah. I did."

Yeah. He did.

Last time I posted about the car-jacking kid who found himself in front of a tough-minded judge who showed him little understanding. He was a tough kid with obvious mental health issues and a violent criminal history. Sadly, without a serious therapeutic intervention, his crimes will likely continue to escalate.

I know all too well how ineffective the juvenille justice system is. I have been on the receiving end of supervising my own kid's probation. I have also been on the receiving end of his abuse. You see, the car-jacking kid is not much different from my own Younger Kid three years ago. Sure, his looks are a little different and his crimes have escalated to be more violent. But not long ago, my kid could have been in a similar position. In fact, I am certain that if he had not received the opportunity for treatment when he did that he would have lost his freedom by now.

Thankfully, Grace interupted. Younger Kid and the rest of our family were put together with the absolute best people to help us. Younger Kid got another chance and so far since that time, we have been able to keep his world small enough to keep him safe. Safe from poor choices, safe from incarceration, safe from any further trauma, and safe from himself.

When I said I was going to tell Younger Kid's story, maybe you thought of the hard times. We've got plenty of those stories. But, they are not what I want to share. Younger Kid is surely a success! The best success he can be. I want to tell you about that. I want to celebrate that. Because there are parents right now in the same position we were in three years ago. Parents who are indeed victims of abuse at the hands of their children. Parents who are tired. Exhausted. Mis-judged. Desperate for help. Parents that need to hear what has happened with Younger Kid. Those are the parents who need the hope. "When the whole world says, "give up". Hope whispers, "try again".

Hang around...it's summertime and I am going to be posting more regularly and bragging about my kids a little.

The influence that shapes the public's opinions.

2010-05-26T06:49:00.001-05:00

I watched an episode of Judge Judy yesterday. (I know.....) I want to write about what I saw because a lot of people watch tv. A lot of people respect a Judge. A lot of people find it entertaining and satisfying to see "justice" played out in their living room. In the episode I saw, there was 16year old boy appearing before Judge Judy. The boy was being sued by a woman who he had car-jacked. He pushed the woman to the ground, took her car, and crashed it. The woman wanted payment for the car.

The boy appeared with his father, who was told to "sit down and hush up" and "I hope you are not here to make excuses for him". Ouch. The father did as he was told, and he looked ashamed and embarrassed the whole time. More than once the Judge made reference to the father with comments like, "If your father is smart...." Our society automatically moves to blame parents for their children's behavior. As I watched, I felt so defensive for the father. He probably does not know what to do. He probably has been underserved by the children's mental health system and now the juvenile justice system and he is hoping and praying that someone will do something that will be meaningful to his son. Instead, he is disrespected and blamed. Sometimes, professionals wonder why parents choose to distance themselves and become less involved. This scenario describes one possible answer.

Now the boy's behavior in court was truly detestable. His appearance was inappropriate. He was defiant. He mumbled. He addressed the judge as "you". The kid has no "likable" factor. The boy admitted to taking the car. He said he was walking home and he was cold. He saw a car park and a woman get out. He pushed the woman to the ground, took her keys, and drove off with her car. He admitted all of that.

The woman, who was obviously traumatized, stood in tears next to the boy. She barely said a word the entire time. I felt sorry for her. I felt sad that she had become this boy's victim. I felt badly that she now has to live with the violence that she experienced.

The boy described being chased by police. He said that the police put up a barrier and the barrier made him crash. Judge Judy questioned the boy about who's fault the accident was. The boy replied that he wouldn't have crashed the car if the Police hadn't put up the barrier in the first place. "So it was the fault of the Police?" Yeah.

Conduct Disorder.

Now, I know some of you might be thinking, "Jeez Advocate Mom! Get serious! How can you make excuses for this kid?" I'm not making excuses. Just offering up a different viewpoint. Hear me out.

My Younger Kid has this diagnosis and when he received it, I thought it was bogus. And then the therapist explained to me about how the Conduct Disordered brain makes critical thinking errors.

My Younger Kid broke a window at the treatment center last year. He put his fist through it. It was well below zero that day so the window just shattered. To this day, if he is questioned about the window incident, Younger Kid will insist that the window broke because it was cold outside not because he punched it. That is a critical thinking error. Younger Kid's brain does not work the way yours and mine does. That is a fact. It is not an excuse. It is not a reason. And having a diagnosis of Conduct Disorder does not give a teen license to pursue criminal behavior. But, it should be considered.

The kid on tv received the mother of all lectures from Judge Judy. She ranted for quite awhile. She said that when she was a Family Court Judge she was often critisized for being too harsh. She expressed her frustration with the system that allows kids to basically have no meaningful consequence. She read off the boy's record all the times he had been to court and nothing happened. If he had appeared in her court, she assured him he would have gone to jail for a year. "Then you would learn!"

I understand the Judge's frustration. I have felt that frustration myself. But, a year? Over-reacting in the other direction is not the answer either. And nowhere in her rant did she ask if the young man had received a mental health evaluation. How come in our society, we always assume that someone who displays undesirable behavior is just a bad person? Why don't we ask ourselves, "What made this person do that?" Instead we assume that everyone is just as capable as we are and therefore they must be punished. Not everybody has the same skill set.

In the story of Younger Kid and the window--Younger Kid did make a choice. He made a choice to punch the window instead of the other kid who was setting him off. It is wrong to destroy other people's property and Younger Kid paid for the window. But, it is better to smash a window than assault another person. Right?

Mental Illness is hard. Mental Illness will challenge your thinking every single day. But, we all need to stand up to it. We all need to be challenged. We need to acknowledge the illness that exists so we can teach our young people living with it how to manage it. My Younger Kid is responsible for his Conduct Disorder. It is his. And he knows that a Judge is never going to buy the "critical thinking error" defense. Younger Kid is lucky because his family and his treatment team talk about his multiple diagnosis on a regular basis and we talk about ways he can manage those illnesses. We educate him about what Conduct Disorder means and how his brain is different. And for my Buddy, Conduct Disorder is one of his minor challenges. There is a lot to manage and he is going to need adults to make some allowances while he learns.

But, if the adults around a kid won't acknowledge that a problem exists, then how can they teach the child to manage that problem. How can the car-jacking kid possibly make a better choice next time? And how many more victims will he create as he "learns"?

Hard stuff....

What are your thoughts?

Younger Kid...The story that needs to be told...

2010-05-22T06:57:00.000-05:00

He was just 11 when we found him. I say we found him because we searched the photolistings for months, we looked through endless stacks of paperwork and submitted even more. We waited, we considered, we prayed and we were drawn to him with a force that is hard to explain in words. Not logical. Not of this world. Not like anything I had ever experienced before.

We met our Younger Kid and his older brother at a McDonald's restaraunt where we ate lunch with the social worker. It was the first time the boys had seen each other for a YEAR! A whole year...even though they were living within miles of one another most of that time, contact had not been facillitated or allowed by the people who were raising them.

The boys ate a lot that day and I remember Younger Kid stacking the empty sandwich boxes on the tray like a house of cards. As he took the tray to the trash, Older Kid looked at me and said in a quiet voice, "Don't worry about him. I can handle him."

It was a plea that I will not ever forget. Older Kid had been responsible for his brother most of his life. But, more importantly, Older Kid's words told my husband and me that he knew. He knew he was not having lunch with some "friends" of the social worker. He knew we were perspective adoptive parents. He knew about his brother's violent behavior that recently landed him in residential treatment. He knew we knew about it too. How heartbreaking for a 14 year old boy to be in such a position. "Just give me and my brother a home and I will handle him. I promise." 14 and 11 year old boys are suposed to be playing baseball and football and chasing girls and riding their bikes through the neighborhood with their friends.

It was just a few weeks earlier when my husband and I sat with social workers we were told all about what had happened. Our boys were removed from their biological family when they were 11 and 8. They stayed in group homes for most of the next three years. During the third year, efforts were made to move them into a family foster home. But, when the time came, only Older Kid got to go. A few other things happened including the termination of their parents' parental rights.

Imagine that you are an 11 year old boy living in a group home. Your early life was filled with danger and pain and fear. You miss your mother. A social worker comes to visit. She is the only constant in your life and has been for the past several years. She is the only person left on this Earth who you can even think about trusting-the only adult you have any respect for at all...so you know she is not going to lie to you. She tells you that your mom is no longer your mom. No, I am so very sorry, but you will not be able to go back home and live with her. Ever. Again. Think about that. Can you picture the scene in your mind's eye? That happened to my Younger Kid. So, is it any wonder that the next day at school he didn't do so well?

He physically assaulted a female teacher. The teacher sustained some injury. A broken thumb? A finger? I was never clear on exactly what was broken. Younger Kid was charged with a felony. I'm not sure if he was expelled from school but I'll bet they did not want him back. He landed in a residential treatment center. When the social worker took him to court, the Judge dismissed the charges. Why, you ask? Because there was no consequence left to give our young man. What consequence can you give a kid who has no family, no home, nothing left to take....and he was only 11?

The day we met him at McDonalds was followed a few weeks later by another lunchtime meeting. It was just me, the social worker, and the boys that day. We went to the place Younger Kid was staying. I have written about that story so I won't repeat it all. You can read it here. But, something happened that day in that smelly, hot, filthy room where Younger Kid had been living. We sat on his bed and he took pictures out from under his pillow. Pictures of him and his brother. He kept them under his pillow! I will never forget that moment.

A few weeks later, my husband and I went back to Younger Kid's room with sheets and a comforter and pillow for his bed. We brought posters for the walls. We brought 12 two liter bottles of pop and 12 bags of Doritos for the other kids who lived with Younger Kid because we did not want them to be jealous and beat our kid up. I think they probably were jealous anyway. That night was the only time my husband ever set foot in that place. He sat on Younger Kid's bed and promised him a better life and when we left he said to me, "I am never coming back here again." And he didn't.

"You and your husband must be saints or something."

"It is such a nice thing--what you did for those boys."

"Were you just crazy? Why would you take something like that on?"

"I really admire you.".......

Our boys were ours from that night on. Truthfully, they were ours from way before that. It was a force that brought us together. Something from God rather than a simple choice that we made.

Over the next several weeks, I am going to attempt to tell you Younger Kid's story. It is hard to tell. It is filled with love and confussion, rage and misunderstanding. It is a story that should be told. I will try very hard to do that while respecting my brave boy and his privacy. I think if more people understand then more people will understand--perhaps people with influence and the power to change things for some other kid.

I hope you will follow along.....

On Mother's Day I think of You.

2010-05-08T07:53:00.000-05:00

Dear Friend,

What to call you? Friend? Not really. We don't chat on the phone or get together for coffee and yet "friend" hardly seems sufficient to describe you and surely I consider you as someone dear. I think of you often and pray for your safety, your happiness, and your ongoing good health. And on Mother's Day, I say a special prayer for peace for you and I hope that it brings you some comfort to know that our boys are both very much a part of a family who loves them completely and are committed to them forever.

I want you to know that I have only feelings of love and compassion for you. Not judgement. While I don't understand all of the decisions that were made, I do believe with absolute certainty that you did the very best you could given the circumstances and your own illness. I have often told people how kind you are, how friendly and sincere. I often share my belief that Younger Kid's good heart and desire to care for others comes from you. He got those traits from you. Just yesterday at a meeting he said to his social worker (who just had a new baby), "I hope you have a happy Mother's Day." Wow! He is healing, isn't he? It is slow for him and it has taken such a long time. I have always said it is so beautiful the way Younger Kid loves you. It is proof that he does have empathy. He does have the ability to be vunerable in relationships. He is just very afraid of it.

And I want to thank you for looking out for Older Kid last November by showing up at that meeting. At first, I didn't know why you wanted to come but when we were there I understood that it would have been a much different meeting without your presence. I am so thankful you were there.

So, Happy Mother's Day to you Friend. Take good care of yourself today and know that we wish only the best for you.

Love,
Advocate Mom

Cherished Wish
by Sherra Buckley
The sun is nature, warmth and light
Giving life and hope and might
and though it may be far away
Will touch the child with every ray
The heart is nurture, love and grace
Lives for each smile upon your face
Teaches what you need to know
Makes you laugh and helps you grow
For one, a wish that runs so deep
Her child - a home to safely keep
Another's wish so true and bold
A child to love and teach and hold
The star - the wish of the two
Heaven makes them both come true
In all ways merciful and mild
Their star - their cherished wish - the child

What does it take?

2010-04-29T07:01:00.000-05:00

Lulu over at What Now and Mary the Mom at Muddling through Mayhem have written eloquently about what it takes to raise a hurting child. Mary's list includes having Faith and a deep belief that you are doing what you are meant to be doing-that everything you are going through is for an important reason. That's a good one. Like that one. Lulu says that "how far a person has come depends on where he started." Nice. I have not heard that one before. I am "stealing" that one, Lulu.

I believe that one parental trait rises above all. And it hasn't been written about yet. Probably because for many parents it is a "given". But, I remember very clearly the day my husband and I learned this lesson. It was the day "Puke" from the group home lost his bid to try to seperate us from Older Kid. And for me, this one trait is above all the rest. Something you must know if you are considering foster care or adoption. So, I will step up on my soap box (yet again) and say that the most important trait a parent can have is commitment.

For a child to be in foster care and available for adoption, they have lost a family. Major trauma. In addition, that family probably was not the most nurturing. Indeed, many of our kids have endured unimaginable physical and emotional trauma in the early part of life. If you are considering bringing one of these children home, please know that you are not going to be in love with that child a lot of the time. Additionally there will be times when not loving that child is more appropriate. Because he cannot handle it. What he can handle, what he needs more than anything else, is your commitment. Your willingness to stick by him no. matter. what. he does to push you away.

You will not be Mama. Not all the time. Not even on your terms. In my experience, I have been the person who committed to see my boys through to adulthood. Younger Kid generally calls me Mom, but Older Kid never. I remember the day he described me and my husband as "some reasonable adults I somewhat trust". A few months later, a professional told me that Older Kid said, "when I need to be normal, I use them for my parents". That was ok with me and it has to be ok with you. It took a long long time for Older Kid to trust anymore than that. And if you are bringing someone his age home, that has to be ok with you. Now, there is no question that Older Kid is ours. He is part of this family. He would probably say that too. But, not in the beginning. Not for a long time.

I remember the day, two summers ago, when I overheard Older Kid talking to a neighborhood kid. The kid asked, "Where is your real mom?" and my Older Kid said, "I live with my real mom." Sweet. But it took a long time.

If you bring home a child from foster care or any traumatized child, please know that there are going to be times you wish you could get out of it. I promise this. There may be times your family urges you to "unadopt" that child. You will be dragged into the trauma and you have got to be committed.

Stepping off soapbox now.

Food first....

2010-04-19T20:48:00.001-05:00

Both my kids have always been all about food. Food comes first. It comes from being deprived I guess. If Older Kid spends only five minutes in your house, he can tell you everything you've got to eat. He can take an inventory that quick. And if Younger Kid were visiting, he would want snacks or a sandwich within seconds. Food has always been a big deal to my boys. I remember one of the first times I really got a sense of just how important...

It was in the spring. 2005. My Younger Kid was 12 and he had been with us six or 7 months. It was the time of spring when the days get longer and the snow melts and kids that age hang out at the park after dinner. My Younger Kid was no different than any other kid in the neighborhood in that sense. He went to the park every night.

One day I picked him up from school and he "confessed" that he had a problem at the park the night before. He said that he and another kid were playing on the same tire swing and the other kid thought Younger Kid kicked him. Younger Kid said it was an accident. He said he apologized but the kid was mad anyway. He followed his confession with the usual, "Are you gonna send me back?" I said, "no way" and I thanked him for his honesty and I said that if the other kid or his mother talked to me about it that we would work it out. Easy enough.

We went home and we were all excited because my husband was making Mexican for dinner. Mexican is known as "Dad's specialty" at our house and it is one of Younger Kid's favorites too. I was happy because I didn't have to cook. As my husband was putting dinner on the table, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a huge police officer on the porch. "Mrs. Advocate Mom?" Yes. "Do you have a blonde young man named Younger Kid living here?" Yes. "Well, I got a call from another mother who says he kicked her kid at the park." Seriously? She called the Police? I assured the officer that it was an accident and that Younger Kid had told me all about it earlier. I looked over my shoulder and saw my kid cowering in the corner looking terrified. Police removed him from his parents. Younger Kid is terrified by the Police. The officer said he understood and he thought the other mother was a little over the top but he promised her he would talk to Younger Kid. He only wanted to talk. No charges or anything else. So, I let him in.

Younger Kid took off like a rocket to the dining room, sat at the table, and began shoveling food in faster than I have ever seen. "Buddy," I said, "what are you doin'? He just wants to talk. Everything is ok. I told the officer what you told me and he just wants to hear it from you." I felt so sorry for my son in that moment. I can still see him sitting there so straight in his chair, squaring his shoulders and with all the courage he could muster, he told the Police Officer, "Look. It's dinner time and Advocate Dad made Mexican. And I am not going anywhere until I eat first!"

The Officer sat down in the chair next to my kid and told him he was not going anywhere. And he thanked Younger Kid for coming clean with the park incident earlier and suggested that maybe he stay away from the park for a day until the other boy cooled off. And even though the Officer was just as nice as he could be, Younger Kid jumped up and his in the corner behind a plant. (He was 12 and 150 pounds but he crouched in the corner as if he was invisible. He stayed there until the Police Officer left and then he went right back to the table for seconds and thirds.

Do not mess with dinner time.

Sound familliar??

2010-04-09T13:50:00.000-05:00

I have thought twice, three times even, about posting this. But I am going to because this is just what we have been discussing among our blogs lately. Here is some of the backstory on what I posted yesterday. Sound familliar??

For me, raising my kids has taken an extraordinary amount of commitment. I can relate to the mother when she says it took every resource--financial, emotional, and spiritual--to raise her kid. I am proud of my husband and myself for sticking with our kids. It has taken a lot more than just us to make things work. Our family has had a lot of help. You know that because I have written about it.

Yet, I am proud of these parents for telling their story. We all have to tell our stories. Because of their story, people are talking on the radio right now about adoption and attachment disorder! Maybe we can finally have a real discussion about this as a society. Maybe we can educate a few more people. Maybe a few morekids will receive the help they need.

I know this family personally. My heart breaks for all of them. I really cannot say anymore about it. So, I will open it up to you, my friends. What are your thoughts??

Heavy Hearts

2010-04-08T06:28:00.000-05:00

Someday I want to write something light hearted and funny and joyful. Something you could read and smile to yourself and say, "That Accidental Advocate is so funny and cute. I really really like her." Ahhh, yes. I am going to write something like that. Not today though.

Today I have to write about a devestating and stigmatizing incident that will upset all of you. Probably not in the same ways it upsets me, because I have the perspective of the foster parent. I have a heart for those 'troubled" teen boys. Somehow, after all we have gone through, this story has made me realize that I still believe in the idea of bringing a kid home--a kid that no one wants. A kid with "troubles". A kid without a family. I believe in that kid. Somehow, I still believe someone has to stand up for him and have his back.

This story has bothered me so much this week. I have cried for this kid so many times. I know his mother. The one before foster care. She asked me and my husband last year if we would take him. We couldn't do it. We wouldn't have been able to get him the services or help he needed because he wouldn't have been with us in foster care . I know some of his story. I have seen his picture, which is killing me because now I can picture him sitting there in juvenile detention. I wonder if he understands what he did or the seriousness of it. He brought a gun to school. It was wrong. Really wrong...But, I know from raising my kids (especially my Younger Kid) that sometimes kids do really terrible things without having really terrible intentions. They don't think about it the way we do. They don't understand how serious it is. And I can't help but think that this could have been my kid or any of a dozen other kids I know. And who will help this boy now?

When Younger Kid lived at home, he had PCAs (personal care asssistants). He had people to help him because he needs the support of an adult, one on one, every second that he is awake. I used to tell Younger Kid's PCA that his job was to be Younger Kid's brain. Truly. "Younger Kid can't go to the bowling alley without you, because you are his brain." I would tell them, "If he becomes aggitated or even too excited about something, his frontal lobe floods with every emotion there is, he doesn't know what to do. He is not capable at that point of thinking or making a decent choice. You are his brain in that situation. You tell him what choice to make. It works." It was my friend, Activist Annie, who came up with this verbage. "Our kids need an external brain". It is one hundred percent the truth.

On Monday, when the 14 year old boy in our story brought the gun to school, he didn't know quite what to do as evidenced by the fact that, according to what is reported, he was not seen at school the first three hours. No one knows what he was doing during that time. They know he was on the bus and that he had the gun with him. During the time he was in the hallways with the gun and the school was locked down, it was a teacher who stepped between the gun and some students and became the boy's external brain. He firmly told the boy, "This isn't going to happen. Turn around and go outside." And the kid did it. And everyone was safe. Yay for the teacher. Thank God he was there.

Our county is fair. I believe our county attorneys are fair and the judges are good people. We have great social services who will do their best to advocate for this boy. But, even in the best of circumstances it is hard to imagine what his future holds now. All because he made this one choice.

Public opinion on this is all over the place. Many many people are angry. Everyone wants to blame someone else. Many people blame the foster parents, some blame the school, some blame the county, some people blame previous care givers. A few people are sorry for the kid. But we are all human. None of us are perfect. And, this boy is a really sick kid. He lives with a lot of illness. And in our society, we value treating kids in their community. We try hard to put enough support around them so they can be successful..."normal" (I hate when people say that word) We value treating kids in the least restrictive environment. If that is our value, then we have to change some of our language.

To all the people who are raging and making comments like the ones I have read in the paper. You should be more aware and more accepting. You should understand that there are a number of children living with this level of illness and that they go to school with your kids. Teach your children understanding and compassion. Teach your children that they are blessed to have two parents who love them because not everybody gets that. Teach tollerance. Because it starts with you. Your kids are listening to what you are saying now. They will adopt your perspective ont his. So, do the right thing.

The paper has done some really not so fine things in reporting this story. They released the boy's name. They report that he is a "foster child" and the angle of their reporting does not paint the foster parents in a very good light. People must understand that there are two sides to this story. You only know what you are being told. So, choose to be compassionate and tollerant please. Don't let this event become so stigmatizing that other kids living with illness or in foster care have a hard time. Don't make your children afraid of kids in foster care. Teach your children to be thankful for what they have and to practice understanding and tollerance toward those who have so much less.

With a heavy heart,
Advocate Mom

Keep Calm and Carry On

2010-03-31T07:15:00.000-05:00

How awesome is this?!

I stole this from Claudia over at Never a Dull Moment. It is hers and I hope she doesn't mind. I just had to have this. I also saved it to my desktop background. Yes. I did. What a wonderful, simple, perfect reminder. I love this so much! Thank you Claudia!

Now, on to today's business. I want to write about what I said in my last post. It is all true. And I am glad I said it. I think it was good for all the moms who wrote on this topic to put it out there. "Sometimes adoption isn't what you think it is. Sometimes it sucks!" And tell the rest of the world to deal with it. Therapeutic, I think.

Now for some more truth--good stuff this time. The uglyness of it does not erase what is great about my kids. It does not change what is great about us--our family. And I want to be clear about that because that is the one thought that has kept me going these past few months. No matter what the professionals say, no matter how bad the diagnosis is, no matter how hard the day is or how unbelievable the drama is--none of it changes what is good. And it is the good that I spend my time focusing on.

I started this blog with the intention of telling my stories. Past stories. And then January 18 happened and I needed an outlet to share a little of what we were dealing with and now we are in the present. So, in the interest of fairness I feel like I really need to tell you what is good here.

My husband and I are proud of our children. And what happened has brought us all closer together. I especially notice it in the relationdship between my husband and Older Kid. Older Kid is the most determined and courageous person walking on this Earth. That is the truth. And we don't mind using those strengths. He needs to take big risks and have people believe in him so he can experience success and learn to believe in himself. On the surface he believes in himself--too much. But that's for show. And my Older Kid is sweet. Jeeze he will hate that I said that. He will deny. But he is. He has a good heart. You should see him with our Girlie. There is no denying his good side. And no matter what illness he lives with, it is not powerful enough to change what his strengths are or his good heart.

I know I haven't said much about Younger Kid lately. Believe me, he has given me a lot of good stories and I am looking forward to getting back to sharing those. My Younger Kid is the most caring, most protective and physically strongest person I have ever known. He lives in a state of fear and seeks control as a result, so he is great in situations that require self control. Someone else's crisis. I always say Younger Kid is great in a crisis--as long as it is someone else's. And Younger Kid is great with pre school aged kids. It is amazing to see him play with younger kids. He will go out on the playground with Girlie for an hour and play in the sand or sit on the floor and play dollhouse. All 6 foot 3 and 200 pounds of him. And he complains about it, but the whole world knows that Younger Kid does not do anything he does not want to do.

So despite all the ugly truths I shared in my last post, there is one thing I know for sure-I do have hope! I have a ton of it! I believe that if we invest our time and our hearts and our resources into these two kids the world will benefit later. It's an investment they need. My husband and I can't "fix" them on our own. It takes the effort of a lot of people. And it us to stop expecting someone to have the answers. There are no answers. One day at a time. Keep calm and carry on. Because if we accept what is, remain committed, and invest in these kids--they are going to be ok. And that is why God gave them to us in the first place. And that is the second thing I know for sure--My husband and I have our boys because God believes we are the best people on Earth to raise them. That sounds pretty conceited doesn't it? I don't care. That is what I believe. I think we are the perfect parents for our biological children because we share their DNA. And I believe that when adoption is necessary, God finds the closest match and that's who gets the kids. And anyone who has adopted a child will probably agree--finding that kid or kids is a "God" thing. There is no way around that.

So, don't worry People. Things are good here no matter how tough a circumstance is and no matter how bad it sounds. We have hope here!

Have a great day! Sparkily cupcakes for everybody!

Keep calm and carry on!

RAD, Attachment and Healing...Thoughts from the front lines

2010-03-28T09:15:00.000-05:00

Brenda over at Living with RAD wrote that she would like other parent bloggers thoughts on RAD, attachment, and healing. I read about it on Essie's blog and I left a comment. But I have a lot more to say. So, I am offering up my thoughts. And it is not all pretty. I do not regret bringing our boys home. I would have done it no matter what anyone had told us about the boys. I am fully committed to them. I love them and somehow we are a family. Having said all that, I do not believe adoption is all sparkily cupcakes, happiness, and love fixes everything. Although, that is what I used to think.

What I am going to write might make some people angry. It will scare the hell out of some people. Some people might choose not to read any further. Some people might write me off as bitter and unhappy. Some people might say what I would have said-what I did say-when I read things like this 5 or 6 years ago. "I'm so sorry that this happened to your children and that they are struggling so. But-those things are not going to happen to my boys." I said that to a lot of people. Life has humbled me since then.

No one--not one person involved in the adoption process--said the words "mental illness" to me or my husband. We were told everything that was known. We were told about PTSD, RAD, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, ODD (oppositional defiant disorder--which I admit, I thought was a totally made up diagnosis). All these diagnosis were described to us as "emotional disturbance". Older Kid's diagnosis were called "mild emotional disturbance". Younger Kid was described as "moderate". We were told kids would need therapy. Since we knew nothing about mental health or emotional disturbance, we believed therapy was the answer. We believed the professionals when they told us "kids heal every day" and "kids are resilliant". We believed them when they said therapy and structure and willingness to stick with the kids was enough. We believed the kids when they said they wanted to be adopted. They thought that was what they wanted. That is what someone told them they wanted. The kids believed too. Our kids were 14 and 11. Old enough to have their opinions recognized in court. Old enough to make choices like "do I want to be adopted or not?" We were all big believers.

We were all clueless. None of us had any idea what we were getting into.

Now, I am not saying people lied to us. Not on purpose. They were all good people. They gave us the information they had. I am a firm believer in three things about the adoption of an older child. #1) No one can predict how a kid will react once they are at home. #2)Kids do as well as they can. And #3) Parents need a whole lot of support.

I promise you that I am not angry. I am not bitter. I am realistic. Life has made me that way. And it makes things a whole lot easier, once you get past the grief, to be realistic. And being realistic, to me, means that not all kids heal. Not all kids have enough resilliancy to bounce back from the trauma they endured. But, all kids do the best they can.

Kids change over time too. More illness can develop. Depression can morph into Mood Disorder. RAD, if it is not "healed", becomes a Personality Disorder in adulthood. That's right. That has been my experience. There is no medication for Borderline Personality Disorder or Anti social Personality Disorder. There is some therapy called DBT and I am way to new to it to describe it in detail. What I can say is that I am grateful, yet again, for Dr. Grey's forsight to put both my boys in DBT as soon as he met them. That is the one thing that has been helpful for Older Kid. At least he isn't learning all of DBT right now. At least he had some exposure to it before it became the only thing that would help him. And, at least, we can beef up Younger Kid's DBT therapy right now because he will likely need those skills to function as an adult in the world.

Neither of my kids will live independently. At least not right now. They need supportive housing and a supervised structure. Some days they do just fine and some days they need far more than we can provide at home. That is something I did not anticipate. When my Younger Kid went to the hospital on August 3, 2008, I never dreamed he would never come back home to live. Yet, here we are. I still can't believe that one. And right now, we are going through a similar crisis with Older Kid. In my experience, the best I can do is not enough.

These are the truths that are going to set some people off. I expect it. Some people have said, "Well, Advocate Mom, your kids are extreme examples." Are they? I don't know if they are or not. I don't have other kids to compare them to. They are just kids, extreme or not. What happened to them was not their fault. They were true victims.

So here is what has helped me. I love Dr. Daniel Hughes. I know others have cited him as well. On his website, he has a parenting model that is just fantastic! I print it off and give it to teachers and other professionals so they can understand RAD a little better. Dr. Hughes says, "The adults must constantly strive to have empathy for the child and to never forget that given his history, he is doing the best he can." How I love those words.

And I love Dr. Ross Greene. I heart him. He is brilliant. And not necessarily all about attachment, just troubled kids in general. He has a system of communicating with kids called CPS or Collaborative Problem Solving. He says, "Kids do well when they can." It is great stuff and it really works. Go buy his book, Lost at School. You will love it. And, in my experience, if you e mail Dr. Greene with a specific question about your kid, he will e mail you back. In a world where you can hardly beat an opinion out of a professional, it is great to have someone say, "try this and maybe it will work." or "Let me know how I can help." Dr. Greene rocks. Love. Him.

The other thing that was helpful to me was to find the support of other parents. I found that at NAMI. Every state has a NAMI. Look yours up and see if they offer parent to parent support. If they don't, ask them to help you start it.

I choose to focus my energy on helping other parents. I work to educate professionals about how to support our families. How to bring parents to the table. How to engage them in their child's recovery and treatment. As a parent, I have experienced so much judgement. It makes me tired, truthfully. Just this past week, I had a well meaning professional tell me that he has to listen to everything I say and sort out what is a "valid concern" about my kid and what is "just an emotional sensitivity". Yeah...I will let you sit with that for a minute. I am still not sure how I feel about having my concerns about my son's more dangerous traits being described as an "emotional sensitivity". And this professional is one of the good guys. Parents are exposed to a lot of judgement and a lot of insensitivity. That is for sure.

But, I can talk about it and use our family's story to help people understand some of what parents go through and where they are coming from. And I can talk to other parents and offer my support. I have experience that was really hard to get. So, I am so thankful for the opportunity to use it to help others.

So, that's what I've got. Dr. Hughes, Dr. Greene, parent to parent support, and NAMI. And we could not have made it without our great doctors, Dr. Grey and Dr. Steele, and support from county social services, our family therapist, Rachel and all the other professionals I have mentioned along the way in our story. A friend of mine says, "it takes a village to support a parent." He is not just a whistlin' dixie!

Happy Birthday Older Kid

2010-03-27T20:55:00.001-05:00

Dear Older Kid,

It was your birthday this week and it made me remember 6 years ago on your birthday. I didn't know you yet, which is to say we hadn't met face to face. I knew you though. I knew you would join our family with your brother. I knew you would become my son.

That was your 14th birthday. It was warm outside and I spent the afternoon cleaning out our vehicles in the driveway. I prayed and asked God to please make sure you had a nice birthday. "Please God, let the foster mother make him a cake." Yep, I prayed for cake Older Kid. Sorry about that. It was before I knew you hate cake. Brownies are better. Smile.

When we took you out for dinner this week on your birthday there were so many times I almost started crying. Did you see? It's just that I cannot believe you are not coming back home to live. It is a hard idea for me to get used to. And I didn't get any warning. Most moms get some warning I think. Don't worry though. I will work through my sadness. It just might take me a few weeks.

I sure hope things work out the way you want them to. I trust the professionals who are working with you and I hope they are able to come through with the plans they have made. I look forward to helping furnish your new place and you better have us over and do some fancy cooking! And since it will be your place, I won't have to stress about the messy kitchen. Smile again.

I know this is the internet and you would hate me to say this, but it is annonymous(ish) blog. So I think it is ok for me to say that I know you are a little bit scared. I know because I saw it in your eyes for just one second last night in the car. And I want to tell you that when you feel that scared feeling--when you are doubtful or worried, I want you to shake that off. Because I've got your back, Son.

Forever.

Because I am your Mom.

I love you, Buddy.
Happy Birthday!

Things we cannot handle.

2010-03-24T07:58:00.000-05:00

My internet friend Lulu just wrote about parenting the need and not the behavior in her teenage foster son. It is a good post. Go check that out.

It got me thinking about the crisis our family is presently working through. I have really wanted to write about it, but I have to be so careful about what I reveal. So, I have to apologize to you in advance if you read this and feel like there are pieces missing. I will do my best to share my thoughts and protect my kids at the same time.

One of the things I grieve a lot is that our family isn't very typical. We are not like everyone else. Parenting the needs of our children means that Younger Kid is more successful living seperately from us. It means Older Kid is more like a roomate than a child. But, we do get moments of bright shiny typical family time. Those are the days that carry me. Those are the times I treasure. Times when I can see the potential in my boys and in our family. Times when our whole life is not open for examination and judgement. Times when we are simply a family out doing family stuff. We had one of those days on Saturday. We went to Younger Kid's city and stayed in a hotel. We all hung out hiking by the lake and roaming around the mall. We took Younger Kid to his bowling league and went to a train museam where the kids climbed all over the display and we took silly pictures. Saturday was a great day!

On Sunday, things fell apart again.

We almost lost our Older Kid in January. On Sunday, we could have lost him again. He is back in the hands of capable professionals. I don't know what is going to happen. I don't know what the future holds for Older Kid. Since January, I can definately say that I know what it is to be truly helpless. I know what it means to have no choice but to hand it over to God.

I love my Older Kid so very much. My husband and I are committed to him no matter what happens. We are sticking with him and we have no idea what's next. We have to find our way through it together knowing that God has put the right professionals in our lives at just the right time to help us manage Older Kid's illness.

If you are the praying kind, pray for us ok? Pray for our Older Kid and for his doctors and treatment team. A friend of mine says that sometimes God does give us more than we can handle. He does it so we realize how much we need Him. I am getting that...

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

2010-03-19T07:25:00.000-05:00

Just look what I got from my friend Linda! I know Linda in real life. She is one of the Drama Mamas--one of my people! She is an awesome mother of 4. Go check out her blog if you haven't already done so. Linda rocks!!

So, you know how it goes. I get to tell you something about myself and then pass this on. I am giving this to The Apartment Manager over at The Apartment Manager's Blog. And the something you may or may not know about me is that, in my former life, I used to manage apartments. Lots and lots of apartments! I managed large apartment communities when the boys moved home. I loved the work and I planned to keep my career, but it did not take long to figure out that a person cannot function so well in a stressful work environment and a stressful home environment at the same time. So, after 12 years, I got out of the property management business. And I have lots of stories. The Apartment Manager is presently managing a building somewhere and she has lots of funny stories too. Go read some. You will laugh. A lot.

During my property management career, I worked at lots of places. It was a privelage. I really enjoyed matching up people to spaces. I liked providing good service to them at their home so they could go to their jobs and provide good service to others. I started as a leasing agent and worked my way up to a property manager. When I was an Assistant Manager, I worked at one of my favorite places. It was a community made up of many small buildings that featured tuck under garages. Because our maintenance supervisor at that community was well known for drinking too much, my boss had me keep the pager. So, if a resident needed something after office hours it was my job to take the call and round up the maintenance man if we needed him.

Sometimes people feel bad when they call in the middle of the night. Sometimes they are pissed off. Sometimes they are drunk. Sometimes people are just not thinking at all and this was the case the night some doofus got himself locked in the garage at 4 am. I got out of bed, put on a coat over my jammies and went to let him back into his building. I reminded him nicely that he really cannot leave his apartment without his keys. And in the future, the garage door opener will work to get you out of the garage too. Garages have two doors. A garage door for the car to go through and a pass through door into the building. Oh, he felt bad. He never thought of that. Then he said, (it still makes me laugh out loud) "I didn't wake you up, did I?" Nope. I told him it was my job to wander around all night and make sure nobody was locked in the garage. And he went back to his apartment without noticing my sarcasm.

If you live in an apartment, be nie to the manager and his or her staff. They work their tales off. Regardless of where you live, you will appreciate the good humor over at The Apartment Manager's Blog.

Happy Friday everybody!

It's Tuesday and you know what that means!

2010-03-09T05:49:00.000-06:00

Time for a little Gratitude with Attitude! Thanks to Zgirl over at Think Tank Mama for this great idea. It is the best therapy and just what I needed! I have someone very very deserving of thanks this week. Enjoy!

Dear Un-named Mental Health Professional, (Yes, the same one I wrote to previously! She is a slow learner.)

I really want to thank you for your dilligence and follow through. You have been such a joy to work with and it is just awesome the way you take care of all the details for me. I admit, I was a little skeptical when you said to let you handle all the planning that had to take place. But, you assured me you would manage it. I could relax. Gosh, thanks.

I am especially grateful for the way in which you promised to follow up with my kid and make sure he was completing the part of this very important task which you assigned to him and then you did nothing! And thank you for being so predictable when you sat in front of me and blamed my kid for not following through with what you promised. That was nice. I really appreciated that.

And thank you so much for the way you have spoken to me during our time working together. You know, I hear too many kind words so I really like the way you said my husband and I need to "step up". And you had every right to say that since you had known my kid for about 12 days at the time and never even met me or my husband. Way to knock us down a few notches. That was fun. I am confused though because at our last meeting you said I was "enabeling" and you used the word "co-dependant". Now, I am not sure you can pull that one off. I might be a detached parent who needs to "step up" or I might be a "co-dependant enabeler". But I don't see how I can be both. Maybe it's that Master's Degree that makes you so much smarter than me. Either way, please know how much I appreciate your opinion of my parenting.

I don't want to take up too much of your time because I know you are really busy doing very important tasks. But, I would be remiss if I did not mention your communication skills. Thank you so very much for keeping me informed. I bet there are a lot of parents who want to know every. single. little. thing. that happens. Not me, I'd just like to be kept informed of the big stuff. So, thanks ever so much for that phone call 48 hours after you called the paramedics for my kid! And thanks for answering all my questions with, "I don't know." or "I really don't know." As a parent, it is just great knowing my kid is in such capable hands.

So, thanks for the huge lack of support and the extra judgement. It has been a pleasure working together. I am really going to miss it. You have just been delightful.

Sparkily cupcakes!

Love,

Advocate Mom

Part 34--"He needs a mother."

2010-03-08T05:52:00.000-06:00

Both my husband and I went to our cabin to meet with the social workers from Older Kid and Younger Kid's county. Our social worker was at that meeting as well, so there were 5 of us. Our boys had a Child Protection worker at that time. They had been removed from their parents by this worker and she had been with them since. I remember seeing her walk into my cabin. She was the most physically fit person I had ever seen and she had short and spikey hair. If you have been a reader for a while, you remember that we loved this worker. I have written about how dedicated she is to the boys and how she cares for them personally. It is not just her job. We still love her.

Back to the story. Everyone was seated in our tiny living room at the cabin in the woods. The Child Protection worker answered all our questions about the boys. She said that Older Kid was definately a teen--lazy sometimes, needs to be reminded to do his chores, forgets things all the time. She said that in her experience, Older Kid has been the better behaved kid of the two boys. He was being asked to leave his current foster placement but the worker said that was because the foster parents were young and inexperienced and foster care was not what they thought it would be.

Younger Kid was another story. He was considered "high risk". He was living in Residential Treatment because of an incident at school where he attacked a teacher and broke a bone somewhere (it was never clear to me what got broken--hand, finger, no one really knew. Knowing Younger Kid as I do, I am betting it was a thumb but that is a story for another time.) Younger Kid was charged with a felony (at age 10--don't get me started!!) which was ultimately dismissed. The Child Protection worker explained that the Judge didn't really know what to do with the kid. He already had no family, was seperated from his only sibling, and living in Residential Treatment. There was nothing left to take from him.

The worker explained that Younger Kid was an emotional boy--a deep thinker. She explained that the boys' mother was living with a lot of mental illness and that she was a nice woman with good intentions--just too sick to be a mother. The worker said that Bio Mom had misunderstood something and told the boys she could be their foster mother and they could come back home even after her rights were terminated. The Child Protection worker said Younger Kid attacked the teacher the morning after she had been to the group home to tell the boys it would not be possible for them to go back home and that their mother had been wrong about that. Makes you kinda sad, doesn't it?

The boys had been living seperately in various group homes all owned and operated by the same people. Older Kid had been in two foster homes and was being asked to leave the second one. Younger Kid was in Residential. My husband and I felt this was the most unfair part of all. They lost their parents and then were not even allowed to have each other. Bringing brothers back together was a main motivator for us. It was something we saw as really important. They needed that relationship so they could be thre for each other throughout their adult life. We explained our feelings to the workers.

The Adoption Worker explained a process called "Sibling Seperation" which is the legal process you have to go through to adopt one sibling and not another. She said if we tried it with Younger Kid and Older Kid and Younger Kid was not able to be successful at home, we could get a "sibling seperaton" and adopt Older Kid. Now, if you have read our whole story--you know that we did get a sibling seperation--but it was to adopt Younger Kid. While we are committed to both boys and they are both ours, Older Kid never let us adopt him. Remember, "Parents never did me any good." No one ever knows how a kid will react once they are in your home. But, I digress.

Younger Kid would be very tough. I remember the workers were clear about that. It was going to take more than a little therapy to turn him around. It was a risk. The Child Protection worker said she had talked to one of the group home workers who said Younger Kid was so very sweet. Such a little boy. If a family will only take a risk....she though Younger Kid would be ok.

I was looking at the ground, listening to the worker talk about Younger Kid. I remember thinking, "He needs a mother." I did not think I said this out loud, but I must have because when I looked up the Adoption worker was looking right at me and her eyes were full of tears. "Yes." she said, "He needs a mother."

And at that moment, our fate was sealed. We were taking those boys no matter what. If you want to know what happened next, you can pick up the story here.

Part 33--I think I could live with that kid.

2010-03-07T07:55:00.000-06:00

This is a story from way back when. So, I apologize that it is out of order.

I found my kids online. Our state has a website that features children available for adoption.. In late 2003, I was looking at that website weekly-on Thursdays-so I wouldn't miss any potential new kids. We had decided on a boy between 8 and 12 years old and we said we were open to two boys if they were brothers and it would keep them together. I remember finding Older Kid and Younger Kid. They were listed as 13 and 10 years old. The paragraph listed described Older Kid as friendly and likes to cook and said Younger Kid was busy and liked a lot of activity. They needed a two parent home and Younger Kid needed to be the youngest child in that home. I asked my worker for their information, but in my head I thought, "They are too old."

Two pages of information came in the mail. One page for each kid. Each page contained the kid's picture, the b.s. paragraph from the photo listing, the kid's diagnosis and where the kid was staying. (not specifically where, just that Older Kid was in "foster care" and Younger Kid was in "Residential Treatment".) That was December 2003 and I put the paperwork in my desk drawer. "They are too old." I thought. I did not tell my husband about them.

Then, in January 2004, my husband's best chidhood friend got married. That was a fun wedding. My husband and I had been out late the night before the wedding helping decorate the reception hall. After dinner, the groom's nephew came to sit with us. Who knows why? We had never met him before. He looked about 13 or so. He had the new gameboy. The Gameboy Advance. Remember that one? This kid just hung out with us all night. We had fun with him and I began to wonder how old he really was. I asked him. He said he was 15. I remember thinking, "I could live with this kid. So, maybe 13 isnt too old."

My husband and I went to the bar to get a drink. I told him, "That kid is 15. Do you think you could live with a kid that age?" Yeah. He is a fun kid. I think we could do that. So, I told my husband about Older Kid and Younger Kid who were 13 and 10. We decided right on the spot to get more information.

The groom saw us. He wanted to know if the kid was driving us nuts. No. We like him. He is fun. "He is bad news." the groom said, "My brother adopted him when he married his mother. the kid is always in trouble. Most of our family cannot stand him. He is always suspended from school and stealing stuff." Me and the husband shrugged our shoulders, looked at each other and said, "Sounds like our kind of kid."

Now--to be fair--we had been told by all the professionals that kids heal all the time. Remember the social worker who said, "Nobody wants these older kids because you have to take them to therapy." We believed in therapy. We believed in complete healing. We believed there was a way to fix things. We also believed once a kid had permanency everything would fall into place and the kid would be happy and compliant. We were pretty naive.

For the rest of the night, I watched the family interact with the Older Boy we sat with. He had a younger brother who was 3. Clearly, there were issues of sibling rivalry. I went to the boy's mother at the end of the night. I told her, "I just wanted you to know I had the best time with your son tonight. He is a really cool kid." Oh yes. She said. Everyone loves the 3 year old. "Oh no." I said, "I was talking about your older son. What a great kid!" No one ever says that about him. She said.

So we requested more information on our kids. Our social worker tried to talk us out of it. We told her about the wedding kid and how we had thought about it. "We can handle tough kids." We said. "We can take them to therapy." She asked us again (she was always asking) if we were sure we didn't want a baby. "You guys have good jobs and a nice home. Why don't you get a baby?" It just made us dig our heels in further. Nope. We want older kids.

Our worker reluctantly requested information and a few weeks later, we got a big stack of paperwork in the mail. Social histories, nueropsych reports, reports from group homes, residential treatment and various foster parents (for Older Kid). Our social worker was surprised I think when I said we would like to meet with the boys' social worker to learn even more. I think she was sure that paperwork would scare us off.

The boys were from a county in the northern part of our state so we arranged a meeting at our cabin. It would be me, my husband, our social worker, the child protection worker and the adoption worker from the kids' county. I will tell you all about that meeting next time...

Dear Mental Illness

2010-03-01T07:23:00.000-06:00

I know I am a day early (or 6 days late) for Zgirl's Attitude with Gratitude. And I know that this letter won't sound very thankful. It is zero parts thanks, too much attitude, and middle finger all the way up! Sometimes I make my own rules. That's the charm of me. Here is my letter......

Dear Mental Illness,

Oh, how I hate you! I bet that surprises you, doesn't it? With all your arrogance and enormous sense of entitlement, you probably think I should be thankful to you for bringing me together with my people and for leading me to my work. And I do appreciate those things, but you--not so much! You are truly detestable!

There are not words sufficient to describe how much I resent you. You have stolen so much from me! Because of you, my Younger Kid cannot even live at home! Because of you, I miss chatting with him after school, packing his lunch, and all the day to day interactions other moms have with their sons. Do you know how it crushed me to get that e mail from another parent telling me how she saw Younger Kid play basketball in a tournament I did not even know about?! Do you know that I have never even seen my Younger Kid play basketball? Because of you I missed that! How selfish of you to rob me of the simple joys other parents experience every day.

I hate you, Mental Illness, for the ways you have messed with my boys over the years. You have a nasty bag of tricks! How dare you use so many on my kids! As if RAD, PTSD, Anxiety Disorder, ADHD, and Oppositional Defiant Disorder weren't enough, you had to go and attack my Younger Kid with Mood Disorder just when he was doing pretty well in our family and in the community. As if the kid did not have enough on his plate, suddenly--he doesn't get to choose his mood? Really? And the mood swings were so severe that he could go from calm to sobbing to homocidal within minutes. And he was only 13! Of all your nasty tricks, I have to say that I despise Mood Disorder the most!

And let's talk about my Older Kid. Here is a kid who worked so hard to overcome you and his past. He is the only one he knows of in his biological family to even graduate from high school and he is so proud that he did that without meds! And just last summer, as we were planning for him to start his post secondary education, I 'll be damned if you didn't show up again and fling your Mood Disorder at him too! And I knew it, Mental Illness! I knew exactly what you were up to the minute I saw it! I have lived with that mania before. And these are brothers who share the same biological make up! The mania looks the same! But, for my Older Kid, the depression is the worst. How could you do that to him? How could you make him feel so badly? He tries so hard! How could you? I hate you for what you did to Older Kid! LOOK WHAT HAPPENED! I promise you, Mental Illness, that I will work against you every. single. day. until. I. die. becasue of what you did to my Older Kid! You will be sorry! That's a promise!

And let's chat a for a minute about Older Kid and Younger Kid's biological mother. Perhaps if you had gone easier on her, then our boys would struggle less. Have you ever thought of that? You made her too sick to even care for them, or protect them from monsters. Why would you do something like that to a new mother? You should be ashamed!

And, Mental Illness, I hate you for stigma! Stigma makes all this so much more difficult to manage. I hate you for what people say because you teach them not to know any better! Can you imagine what it is like to hear someone say your kid is "stupid" just because of a behavior he really had no control over? Do you know how much it hurts when well meaning people say, "All kids do that." in response to whatever is going on at the time. Sure, all kids get mad sometimes but all kids do NOT put their fist through a window! All kids do NOT try to jump out of the car! All kids do NOT go to extreme measures to deal with their feelings. All kids are mouthy sometimes but all kids do NOT call their mom "stupid f-ing bitch" every single day for months! These behaviors are symptoms of illnesses my kids did not choose. Older Kid and Younger Kid can't help these behaviors any more than a person living with epilepsy can stop a seizure once it has begun. And you use stigma to make society blame kids and their parents for those illnesses! Unbelievable!!

You suck, Mental Illness!

Up Yours!

Advocate Mom

I could live for months on this compliment!

2010-02-24T20:03:00.000-06:00

Check it out! Gun Diva gave me this one today. She said, "The Accidental Advocate

is about the strongest mom I've ever met. I could have used her strength a few years ago when my son's disease was at its worst. " NICE. Thanks very much! I can last a long time on words like that!

So, I get to pass this on and tell you 7 things about myself. Here I go...

1. I have a flask and I am not afraid of using it.

2. My people and I call ourselves Drama Mamas!

3. I dream of being a great runner--like my BFF.

4. I never miss The Biggest Loser. Best show on tv.

5. I am sooo over the Olympics! (except for you, Lindsey Vonn!)

6. I have been married for 18 years.

7. I turned 40 last week.

I am passing this on to Lisa over at Life in the Grateful House. I'm missing you, Girl. Come back and write some more RAD stories. Thank you again, Gun Diva! You rock!!

The Princess of the Castle

2010-02-17T07:37:00.001-06:00

My Girlie is kinda spoiled. Ok. She is adored. Smiled at. Her wish is always someone's command. She is a princess. This pic is from our vacation last year. Girlie doesn't leave the house without her bag of stuff and her sunglasses. She likes her nails to be pink. If she wants something and her Dad and I say "no", she just goes to whichever brother is available and works her charms. She is our princess. She is our gift.

Things around here get kinda heavy sometimes. OK a lot of the time. Girlie gives us all perspective. She keeps us all in our place.

Last night, Girlie and I were at the mall. (our favorite hang out) and Older Kid called. I talked with him for a minute and Girlie wanted to talk so I gave her the phone. I wish I had a picture of her walking through the mall with my blackberry, but you can see it right? She went off on Older Kid. I don't know what Older Kid's responses were, but Girlie's side of the conversation went like this--

"You're a Doofus, Older Kid. Why you eat my pickles all gone? The pickles are mine Older Kid. You eat 'em all gone. Doofus! You don't eat my pickles all gone ever again. Those pickles are MINE! Doofus Older Kid."

I don't know where this came from, but she didn't let go of it all night. She would randomly tell me, "Older Kid is a Doofus! He ate my pickles all gone." Pretty soon, Younger Kid was a Doofus too. "Mama, you know my brothers? Older Kid and Younger Kid? They are Doofuses. Those pickles are MINE!"

Hillarious and fun......

Beating Tired

2010-02-15T07:57:00.000-06:00

Recently at a training for parents, another mother asked me if I get tired. "Don't you get tired? I get so tired." She said.

I know just what she means. She was not asking about sleepy tired. She means tired. Tired of the ongoing drama that comes with mental illness. Tired of continuously having to convince professionals to help her kids. Tired of working so hard for a tiny bit of normalcy and then receiving no thanks for her efforts. Tired of loving someone so much and watching helplessly as they spin out of control. Tired of the community's response to the spinning. Tired. I could see it in her face. I can empathize with her because I have felt that level of tired. So. Many. Times. I understand how it feels to feel helpless. I understand wanting to run and hide from it all. I understand tired.

I am thankful to my ancestors for passing on to me a level of stubbornness that does not allow me to give in to tired. I swear to you there have been days when the only thing I have on tired is that I am more stubborn. It is that stubbornness that makes me stay and fight.

And a few other things. One is a strong belief that something good has to come from everything our family went through. It just has to. I always say that I have experience that was hard to get. So I had to find a way to use it for good. And the other thing is that I have to talk. I have to. I am compelled to tell my story. Driven. Like Peter and John in Acts 4. I cannot stop speaking about what I have seen and heard.

So, what do I say? When I talk to parents I say, "You are now a professional parent and welcome to it." We talk about being advocates on purpose. I call this blog the "accidental advocate" because I did stumble into this life. But, to be a good advocate for your child the advocacy has to be on purpose. I tell stories to parents about my experience. I tell parents to find support for themselves. Parents need a lot of support and I tell the story of that first meeting with my people.

Besides support, parents need be organized. In my professional life, I could go into any meeting and feel that I was on the same level as everyone at the table. That just wasn't the case with my kids. My Social Worker has a huge binder. She brings it to every meeting. So, I got myself a huge binder too. I put all of Younger Kid's documents in there with dividers. Medical documents, IEP and school related documents, Treatment documents, Group Home documents, Social Services Documents, my own notes. It is all in there. Now I go to meetings prepared. "Let's have a meeting."

I also printed business cards. At every meeting, all the professionals are handing out their business cards. I have just enough whatever in me that I wanted my own. My cards say my name with the title of Parent & Advocate. I wish I could come up with some fancy letters after my title. Maybe one day....But, the point is that when the professionals are handing out cards, they can have one of mine too. I think it lends a little extra credibility to a parent to do these things. Plus, it's fun.

I make an agenda for every meeting. I limit my agenda to 3 items. The three most important things I cannot leave that meeting without accomplishing. I tell myself that I am in charge of the meeting. It is my meeting and the treatment team is reporting to me. (If you're on my kid's treatment team and you are reading this--I hope it does not offend you.) It is terrifying to walk into a conference room with a whole table full of professionals. As a parent, I use these kind of strategies to help me be effective in that environment. And if there is a chair available beside the most powerful person in the room, I sit there. And if I cannot sit next to the most powerful person, I sit across from them. I take breaks when I feel myself becoming too emotional. I have had so many meetings where I have cried, yelled, begged for help for my kids. I resolve not to do that anymore. I go use the restroom and get myself together. I will not be the parent who cannot get through an hour meeting without "becoming hysterical".

What do I say to professionals? I tell them that parents don't s.u.c.k. (I don't really say that, but s.u.c.k. stands for what I talk to professionals about.)

Support: Parents need support. I encourage professionals to hook parents up with each other. See above. Enough said.

Understand: Understand that parents cannot be politically correct and speak in what might be considered an appropriate manner when they are managing crisis. It's crisis. It is hard. Terrible. Sometimes it is someone's worst nightmare playing out before their own eyes. Please do not hold parents to every word without asking some further questions. Just becasue a parent says their kid can't come home doesn't mean they don't want their kid. Try to imagine the level of stress that parent is under and discuss ways you can support their family so they can be successful.

Be kind to parents. Say kind words to them. Even if you don't think kind words are deserved. Parents do not hear enough kind words. I will never forget our first meeting with the Supervisor in our county. My husband and I were scared to go to the meeting. We felt bad. We brought our kids home to raise them in our family but we were in so far over our heads. We felt defeated. We hadn't heard kind words in a long time. The Supervisor came in the room, sat down at the table and he said, "You're the best thing Younger Kid has." I am sure he did not mean for that to be a moment I would always remember--one that I would tell stories about. But, those words were the first kind, sincere words we had heard in a long time. We appreciated it very much. I have fought the good fight with this Supervisor many times. But, I always remember what he said. And because he said that I believe he does have my kid's best interests at heart.

Coach: I ask professionals to coach parents through the system. No one ever gave me any of the rules when I started this journey. No one said what was expected. If you are a professional, let parents know what language to use, let them know to organize their information in a binder, and share all you know. Sharing what you know promotes trust and parents need someone to trust. They want to trust you. So much. Let them know that they are safe in doing so. Once I asked one of the professionals why he doesn't share the rules with parents. He said, "Advocate Mom, the rules are infinite." Maybe they are. But, I looked up a particular statute and printed it and it only took 8 pages. Not infinite. Please, share what you know. Promote trust. Build a good relationship.

Keep on Committing to the kid: Be committed to my kid. He has lost so much. Don't be the next person who walks away. Parents will be easier to work with if you display your commitment to their kid. I certainly am. I actually, honestly love some of the people who work with my kid. I love them. Because they are committed.

Stepping off soapbox now. Thanks for reading!

Awesome New Award!

2010-02-14T18:52:00.001-06:00

Isn't it pretty? I got it from the Super Stylish and extremely funny Dual Mom. She is one of my faves! (and she really is hillarious!)

I get to pass this little beauty on, so I am giving it to Gayle over at Hope and A Future. She just started this blog and you can catch her entire family story here. Gayle is the adoptive mother of two little girls from China. One is a medically fragile infant with a litteral broken heart. The other is an older child with the other kind of broken heart. Go read. You will be inspired by her courage and her faith.

Thanks again, Dual Mom!! You ROCK!

Moving on

2010-02-05T15:03:00.000-06:00

It is time for our family to move on from the events of the past two and a half weeks. The incident, the hospitalization, and what happens next have consumed my husband and me but now things are winding down. We are feeling back to normal. (whatever normal is)

Sometimes good things come out of bad things. Not that I am glad this happened. I am not. But, because this happened Older Kid seems to have a new appreciation for life and his family. Last week, two different professionals told me that Older Kid said that he loves Younger Kid, Girlie, my husband and me. He said that we are his family. He also referred to us as his "parents" which he does not usually do and he told me that he let the doctor know, "You better call my Mom." And more than once in recent conversations, Older Kid has told me that his family is what is most important now. That has been a long time coming.

Even though we go through such hard things with our boys--I totally heart them. :-)

Gratitude with Attitude!

2010-02-02T18:35:00.000-06:00

I love this! Got the idea from Dual Mom who got it from Zgirl @ Think Tank Momma. Go ahead. You know you want to write some of these too! If you too would like to join in the fun of Gratitude with Attitude stop over at the Think Tank, grab the button and go to town.

Boy, do I need this! Ready. Here I go.....

Dear Un-named Mental Health Professional,

Thank you so very much for your recent phone call where you pumped me for information I think you only wanted to use against my Kid. I especially appreciated the condescending manner in which you "reminded" me how serious his situation is. I had no idea it was so serious! Really? Whew! Thank goodness you're here!

Love ya! Mean it!

NOT!

Advocate Mom

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Dear Trainer at the Gym,

I know you are super busy, but I sure would appreciate it if you would put the "reserved" signs on the treadmills our class uses! Lately, I always get stuck way in the back because you got busy and forgot the signs or whatever. I know I could just come earlier, but I have a toddler and serious time management issues plus--I'm paying you!

Thankseversomuch!
Advocate Mom

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Dear Snow Plow Driver,

I don't want to seem too ungrateful, but must you always clean my street at 4:30 am? Every. Single. Time. it. Snows.!! I really need my sleep.

Preciate it!

January 29

2010-01-28T21:36:00.000-06:00

I can't believe it was five years ago. Tami looked like she stepped right out of a magazine. Our brother cried. My Younger Kid was the ring bearer. And if you have heard me tell stories about my flask--well, Tami gave it to me on her wedding day. January 29, 2005. If you were lucky enough to be there then you know it was a good time.

So, I am thinking about Tami today and I am feeling really thankful for the great relationship I have with her husband. My BIL. I call him my BIL because I am too lazy to type out "brother in law" all day long. He is full of the awesome! Forever my family. Deserving of every happiness. Having a good relationship with BIL, his family, and some of Tami's friends makes losing her a little more bearable. We all have each other. And we have Tami in common. And I think she likes us this way.

Thinkin' about you today Baby Sister with a mixture of sadness, happiness, and thankfulness.

It is what it is

2010-01-27T20:13:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite things to say. It applies to so many aspects of our family and the details.
I am not bragging or complaining when I write this. It is just a set of facts. And yesterday I was feeling a little depressed about the whole thing so I thought if I put it out here maybe it will stop bugging me.

Since joining our family, our boys have been hospitalized 9 times (not each --7 for one and two for the other). One ran away 3 times. One was arrested twice and I lost count of the court appearances. One has been out of our home for 29 of the last 32 months. The other is entering a 30 day intensive treatment program. When I was thinking about this today, I felt like a pretty big failure. Like our family story is one gigantic cautionary tale. I felt like a pretty sucky parent.

And then I went to a meeting with Older Kid and his treatment team. And when I look at Older Kid and all I can do is smile and say is "it is what it is". He is who he is. His past is what it is. And his illness is what it is. And he handles things the way he handles things. And here we are. Standing by him. Committed. Forever. Even if we never adopt him. Even if he never calls us mom and dad or changes his name so it matches with the rest of the family. Ultimately, we do that because we love him. Because we chose him. Because he is ours. Because over time and everything we went through-we did become his family. And that part is kind of a miracle.

The last 11 days have been some of my more difficult days as a parent. If you asked me the most difficult day, I don't think I could tell you. I don't really rank it that way. Crisis is crisis. I do know that I believe what happened is part of Older Kid's story. I am happy he survived to tell about it.

Is our family a cautionary tale? I am sure some people view it that way. Some people (mostly social workers) view it as a success story. I have just come to accept things for what they are--without labels. Our famiy is what it is.

Sharing my phone call rock

2010-01-25T21:49:00.000-06:00

The year before Younger Kid went to treatment, we had a pretty cool in-home therapist. She used to tell the boys that their past traumas were like big rocks they had to carry around. She used to say, "If you share those rocks with some people you trust, your life will be easier."

I've been carrying around a big rock for a week so I have decided to share it and maybe then I will be able to sleep. Maybe if I let you help me carry this rock, I can stop crying about it and focus on all the tasks I have neglected for the last week.

My big rock is a phone conversation. Last Monday night around 8:30, I called the Emergency Room to check on my Older Kid. I did not go to the ER with him that night. I knew he was going to be admitted and I knew from experience that there would not be much I could do. So, I made the call to the ER. I was surprised when the woman on the other end said, "I'll transfer you right away." I thought that was a lightening fast admission. All the previous hospitalizations my kids have had required hours and hours of waiting in the ER. I was on hold and waiting for the nurse to pick up so I could talk to Older Kid. When the nurse picked up she said, "ICU".

Blink. ICU. Intensive Care Unit. Did they transfer me to the wrong place? I wondered.
I told the nurse who I was and asked for information about Older Kid. She said they wouldn't be able to tell me anything. I told her to have Older Kid sign a release and then call me back. I am going to need to know why he is in the ICU. She told me to call back in half an hour. "Is he in really bad shape?" Not yet. That's what she said. "Not yet." What the hell is that suposed to mean?

My husband and our Girlie had already fallen asleep so I chatted online with another adoptive mother to pass the time. I gave them 45 minutes and then I called back. This time a different nurse answered. When I said who I was, she sounded like she was expecting my call. "Just one minute." She said.

I waited on hold. A man answered the phone. A doctor. Blink again. They never ever put a doctor on the phone when I just call to check in. I was nervous. I started to shake. The doctor asked if I was Older Kid's mother. I always talk too much when I am nervous. I chattered about my relationship with Older Kid. The doctor's voice was serious and firm. "OK" he said. I knew he meant to say, "Shut up". Not in a mean way. He was busy saving lives in the ICU. He did not have time for chat.

"Are you aware of the incident that took place today?"

Yes. Oh no. He's going to tell me something bad. But instead he recapped what happened in detail.

"Are you aware of what's happened since Older Kid arrived at the Emergency Room?"

My mind began to race. Older Kid is dead. They put a doctor on the phone to tell me that Older Kid is dead. I started to feel sick. My mouth was so dry. I was shaking really bad. I sat in the dark on the couch and felt hollow inside and my skin felt tingely. He is gonna tell me that Older Kid is dead.

The doctor was talking as my brain was going one hundred miles an hour. He is going to tell me that they did everything they could. But then the doctor said something. I don't remember exactly what he said but when he said it I knew that Older Kid was alive and I said, "He's alive?" And the doctor said yes. "Oh thank God. I thought you were gonna tell me he was dead." OK. The doctor said OK again in his "shut up" tone. He went on to tell me that Older Kid could have major damage to many of his internal organs. The doctor's tone was so very serious. So grave. I asked him, "Is Older Kid going to survive?" and he said, "I won't confirm it tonight."

It was surreal. Unbelievable. The doctor told me in a very nice way that they were doing all they could for Older Kid. There was no way to say how his body would respond to what it had to go through, but there were reasons to be hopeful. Older Kid asked us not to come and he didn't want to talk to us that night. The doctor was nice and he said he would tell Older Kid we called and that we love him. He said he would call us right away if anything happened. And we could call to check in anytime. And I don't know how long I sat there in the dark. I don't remember for sure, but I think I watched some tv. I sent some text messages to my boss and a co worker. I was so relieved that my kid was alive. I drank about a gallon of water. I was awake real late that night. In fact, I didn't sleep much at all Monday or Tuesday night.

This phone conversation and all my racing "Older Kid is dead thoughts" have stuck with me. I get that dry mouth, shaky insides feeling just thinking about it. I have cried a lot about it and it keeps me awake at night. So, I am hopeful that writing it down and sharing it here will help.

Plenty of great people have said, "Call me anytime if you want to talk." But I don't want to talk. I have had to talk about this too much to doctors and social workers and hospital staff and all the professionals who support my family. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I think writing it down will do the trick.

Thanks for reading and sharing my rock.

"I will rescue him."

2010-01-21T06:37:00.000-06:00

What a week.

Sometimes, especially with my Older Kid, I forget that he lives with illness. He does so well for such a long stretch that I stop watching every mood. I stop analyzing every behavior. I trick myself into believing that he is just fine. And when something happens to remind me of the illness, I fall. Hard.

On Monday afternoon, I fell really hard. We almost lost our Older Kid on Monday. We almost lost him. And I didn't see it coming. I didn't have a clue. Just the right combination of illness and mood swing and....

This blog is a tale of my stories. My journey raising two incredible, resilliant, smart, funny boys with a traumatic past, good hearts, and some illness thrown in too. One day, I will share more details about Monday's events. For today, I am thrilled to report that Older Kid will survive. Really....that was in question for several hours on Monday night. He is alive.

Thank you, God. Thank you so very much!

My boys have a lot of diagnosis. A lot of labels. What do they mean? What does Mood Disorder look like? If behaviors are the symptoms of such an illness, then what are the behaviors? Mood disorder is about depression and mania. In both my boys I have seen the mood swings. Sometimes they are rapid--up one minute, down the next. Sometimes the depression or mania can last for weeks on end.

What does depression look like? In my experience it doesn't mean that the kid can't get out of bed. Although that happens sometimes, it is not typical. Typically, depression comes across as

irritability. Unhappy. Difficult to be around.

Mania, on the other hand, is high energy. I wish I had words appropriate to describe the level of energy. It is like a tornado. Chaotic, out of control, comes and goes as it pleases, and it can leave a hell of a lot of damage. It is as if something is driving the kid. Words can't come out of his mouth fast enough. He "spins" from one topic to another without thought. He hardly sleeps at all and he does not display signs that he is tired. He is on top of the world. Litterally. You can stand in front of the kid and almost see him come off the ground. He is unstoppable, invincible.....it is dangerous. Many times, the kid thinks he is doing well--great--no need for medication, no need for church, no need for rules or structure. And just for fun, if the kid is chronologically an adult, then he gets to make those decisions.

Combine that with the impulsivity that comes from a lack of executive function. The brain just can't spin and swing as fast as it does and then be expected to perform it's executive functions too. No cause and effect thinking. "If I touch the fire, will I get burned?" None of that. That whole thought process is absent.

Spinning, spinning, flying on top of the world. And then something happens. Something insignificant. Something like a certain song playing in the background. And suddenly--overwhelming sadness. Overwhelming grief. Unimaginable emotional pain.

And then...with all this invisible activity going on inside his brain, the kid makes a decision that could forever change him and everyone around him. Just like that. In the blink of an eye. While everyone else was going about their day to day business unaware.

Wow. Unbelievable.

That is all I can say. Unbelievable.

Unbelievably tragic.

Unbelievably lucky.

Unbelievable ill.

Unbelievable.

My Dear Bloggy Friends, you are among the few people-outside of those who "need to know" to perform their jobs-that all this has gone down this week. Who can a parent share something like this with? Who would truly understand? Who would listen without envoking judgement? Who can hear this without commenting "what a stupid kid?" or "How could you let that happen?" Not to mention that for the first 36 hours, I could not even speak. I was struck speachless. (I know--write it down it probably won't happen again)

Today, I will tell the whole story to the doctor who will be treating Older Kid. I have people to support me. Thank you, God again. I have my people. My Drama Mamas. And Activist Annie and Rachel the wonder therapist. I am good. I am blessed to have these supports in place. I am also blessed by my Older Kid, who told me repeatedly on Monday how much he loves us. That this was not our fault. That it has nothing to do with us. I don't take that for granted. I know how valuable that is. I know that many parents don't have that.

"'Because he loves me,' says the Lord, 'I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation'" Ps. 91.

Thank you, God, for saving my Older Kid.

Inspiration from the Beach...

2010-01-15T08:06:00.000-06:00

I am on vacation with my family in South Florida. This is one of my favorite places! I love the beach. And it is such a treat to spend a few days in the sunshine and warm ocean breezes. Older Kid is not with us because of school. He cannot miss even one day so he stayed behind with a family friend. Younger Kid is not with us either. It is just me, my husband, and our Girlie at the beach.

I was going to write a follow up to our Christmas, and I will get to that. Then I was going to write about the difficulties of having a child live outside the home. I have had a lot of feelings lately about the unfairness of that. How it brings our inside family business to the table at every meeting, and the challenges of having other people doing the day to day work of parenting our son. I admit that I have felt a little sorry for myself lately in this regard.

And then, through the television in our hotel room, I learned about a young woman recovering from an amputation in a Miami hospital. Her name is Christa Brelsford. She was in Haiti teaching people to read when the earthquake hit. She is amazing. Her attitude is inspirational! She lost a foot. She says, "I'm not worried about my foot. I'm alive." My concerns seem petty and unimportant compared to Christa's and the other earthquake survivors. I am grateful for this new perspective!

I heart awards! Big Pink Puffy Hearts!

2009-12-31T20:09:00.000-06:00

YAY!! An award!

Lisa over at Special Ks Journey gave my blog this award. Thanks Lisa! Love you long time!!

These are the rules: List 10 things that make you happy and try to do one of them today. Tag 10 bloggers that brighten your day. For those 10 bloggers who get the award, link back to my blog and create a list of things that make you happy.

Ten things that make me happy:

1. This webcam I can look at Ft. Lauderdale Beach anytime I want!
2. The beach. Almost any beach will do, but Ft. Lauderdale's beach is one of my faves. See #1.
3. Cosmopolitan and her sister Chocolate Martini.
4. The DVR. Looooooooove the DVR.
5. Turkey sandwich.
6. Facebook!
7. Blogs. I love reading other people's stories.
8. My people.
9. Conan OBrien--I've always liked him and my Girlie likes him too.
10. Bags. I love bags so very much and Coach bags are my fave.

Here's my blog picks in no particular order--I love them all!

martinisordiaper-genies Amanda is so funny and she is super cool. She is that girl everyone wants to be friends with. I like to think that I used to be like her before I had kids.

We're at Dad's That Week Dual Mom. Hillarious and one really really tough woman!

A Whole New World Bart probably won't do the award thing, but go check out his blog. He doesn't post a lot, but he is a great writer with great stories to tell.

Bacon is my Lover Auntie Juicebox is one of my faves and man oh man is she funny!

Faith Makes things Possible not Easy I know this Mom IRL. And she is awesome!

(I know I only did 5 blogs. I will do more later...gotta get my Girlie to bed! Happy New Year, Peeps!)

Work that Matters

2009-12-03T06:50:00.000-06:00

It's time for me to tell you about my work.

Before kids, I had a career in residential property management. I loved apartment buildings. I liked matching up people to places. I liked providing good service to people at home, so they could go out into their world and provide good service to others. I liked creating a community. I was good at it so the investors did well and I was nicely compensated too. I started to get bored with it long before we started looking into adopting older kids. I started feeling like something important was missing. The meaning.

I shared my thoughts with my boss once. I told her I wished our work was meaningful. I wished we made a difference. She looked at me and said, "We make money, Advocate Mom. And it makes a difference to a lot of people." Hmmm....not exactly, but I assured her she was right. And I longed for a way to make a meaningful contribution.

You know what happened.

In the spring of 2008, when my life on the meaningful merry-go-round was in full swing, I was asked to speak at a conference. The conference was on juvenile justice and I was offered a shot at being part of a panel of parents who would get 10 minutes each in front of 40 or so corrections professionals.

I had been a stay-at-home mom for about 15 months at that point. I gleefully accepted the new challenge even though I had not so much prior public speaking experience. I found something to wear, wrote and practiced my story, and went to the conference.

The person who asked me to speak was a parent in our parent resource group. She ran the group. She worked for NAMI Minnesota. (National Alliance on Mental Illness). She was at the conference too, along with her boss. I knew a few other people as well because of some volunteer work I had done with another organization. I don't remember feeling nervous at all. I practiced my story a few more times before it was time to present it. I sat in front of a room full of professionals with two other parents. The three of us sat at a table facing our audience. My NAMI friend who asked me to be there would moderate our discussion. Her boss was there too. I remember thinking that maybe if I did a good job, they would ask me to be on a committee or something.

I was talking about my Younger Kid that day, since he is the one who has given me experience in juvenile justice. I started by saying when he joined our family, what his diagnosis were, and why his story was important. And then....in front of all those people....I started to cry.

Damnit! All the times I practiced, I never cried once! I never even thought about crying! I told my audience that I was fine. Really. Sometimes Younger Kid's story makes me emotional and I cry, but please don't let that diminish the importance of the points I am making. JEEZ!!! My friend's boss, who was sitting in our audience, brought me a pack of Kleenex. I did my best to pull it together and get through the rest of my story.

At the end of that presentation, as I was making my best effort to get my humilliated self out of that building, people kept coming up to me with comments. "Don't worry about your tears. You did a beautiful job." One woman said she didn't think adopted kids were loved that much. A probation officer said she was going to look at families differently from now on. Despite the great comments, I felt that I had blown it.

My NAMI friend told me I could help with some trainings NAMI was doing for professionals. I could present the parent perspective on residential treatment. I thought that was cool. A few months later, my friend's boss--the one who brought me the Kleenexes--called me and asked if I would help out with the trainings. I said sure. We made an appointment to meet at the NAMI Minnesota office to talk about it.

I was excited and I told my husband about this new volunteer opportunity. My husband works a lot. Have I mentioned that? He is a very talented designer and very busy. I needed to make sure he would support my new adventure because I would need his help occassionally with the kids. Of course, he was cool with it. I told him it was a volunteer thing because that is what I thought.

I went to the meeting with NAMI Minnesota's Executive Director and she told me all about the work. Our state passed a new law that year, MN Statute 260D. The law governs how children are placed out of the home for treatment of a developmental disability or emotional disturbance. Prior to the law being passed, some parents had to relinquish legal custody of their child just so he or she could receive treatment. The trainings were for professionals and parents and I would be working with an attorney who would present the legal information while I presented the parent perspective.

"YES!! YES!! I want to do it." I had experience that was hard to get and I was excited about using it to help others. I took a tour of the office and met some people. Then the Executive Director said, "This will be your desk."

HOLY BUCKETS!! This was a real job! I tried to be cool, as if I had known that all along. I took the job without hesitation. Some things are meant to be.

I have been blessed with an opportunity to do great work. Meaning anyone? We've got meaning everywhere! In the last 15 months, I have had the opportunity to speak to professionals about what it is like ot raise our kids. All kinds of professionals. Social workers, educators, residential treatment providers and other children's mental health providers. I have spoken to legislators. I even testified before a Senate Committee at our State Capitol once! I got to work on a film we made for parents and professionals about the entire voluntary placement process. But, the best part of the work is the work I get to do with other parents. I have met parents like me and I help them and they help me. One of them recently started a Parent Resource Group in her area! Incredible!

It hits close to home too. I have spoken to social workers in my county and participated in meetings with some of the same people on Younger Kid's treatment team. One of the first conferences I spoke at was the MCCCA (Minnesota Council of Child Caring Agencies). Members of that organization include most residential treatment providers. The President of Eagle View was there. At the front table. I don't know if he knew who I was before I started talking. If he didn't, Younger Kid's picture on the big screen gave me away real quick. Eagle View's President was out of his seat as soon as I finished talking. He walked up to me and shook my hand. "Do you travel?" He asked. You know I travel. I am in your city every week. He smiled. "Will you come and tell your story to my staff and talk to the parents?" AWESOME!!

So, exactly one year after the "allowing" parent meeting, (read about that here: http://accidentaladvocate.blogspot.com/2009/10/part-26.html) I spoke to parents at the parent meeting at Eagle View. Next weekend, I am going back to speak there for the second year in a row.

It is a real privelage to support other parents. I am so thankful for the opportunity to do meaningful work. I hope I make a difference. I sure enjoy it. I think I have the best job in the world.