Victim Mode

Daughter has fallen back into the victim mode. When I point out that I've tripped and almost fallen twice over shoes I asked her to put away yesterday evening, I'm the b*tch trying to control her life by screaming at her. (Of course it doesn't matter that I haven't raised my voice and she's yelling at me). It's one of those days when she's going to do anything she can to get me to say something to justify her raging at me. It doesn't matter what I say or how I say it, it will be seen as proof that she is the victim of a terrible mother and justify verbal abuse of me.

Choosing not to engage causes her to escalate. She can't sing the song she's been practicing for over a week because she sang it once with Grandma and it's not fair that Grandma had to die. When that didn't get a response from me, she went on a tirade about how all of creation was stacked against her and trying to make her life miserable. I gently informed her that her problems right now were the results of choices she was making, and that I knew she could do better, she had for almost two weeks. She didn't argue-- she fell asleep, unable to face that reality. I had to wake her up to go to her program. Usually she wants to go down early.

Part of the issue, unfortunately, is that staff engaged in conversations about issues that triggered Daughter's PTSD yesterday. She became psychotic with flashbacks. One was describing a serious auto accident that injured multiple family members. Another was dealing with her daughter who wanted to be rescued from an abusive relationship. That same one was dealing with her mother's hospitalization. They truly don't understand the impact they have on people like Daughter when they share details from their personal lives. Program Coordinator is going to explain again why this is inappropriate.

I know this post jumps around and doesn't make much sense-- kind of reflective of they way life is here in Capital right now....

Nice Guy

Nice Guy just left. He left at 10:35. He's lucky, because he learned a very important lesson tonight. At least, I hope he did. Daughter called him earlier this evening, and he was crying and hysterical. She came in and told me he was coming over, because he needed to talk to me.

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He had been with some new friends earlier today, and one of the girls was going to call the police on him. If he's telling me the truth (and I think he is), he picked up a 13 year old girl who was walking along the side of the road. They became friends, and she introduced him to a 15 year old girl that he could date. He met her today, with other girls present. He swears he didn't touch her and was never alone with her. I hope he's telling the truth. I told him he is not to be friends with or talk to women who are under 20 (he's 22). I assured him that if he was telling the truth, he didn't have anything to fear if the girl did call the police, because he didn't do anything illegal, but that it was stupid to even think of dating a 15 year old.

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I hope he learned from this. I hope he took this as a strong warning. I told him it was a gift. Their friend was found competent to stand trial recently, I saw it in the paper. He was sexting a 13 year old. I find myself wondering whether the workshop is explaining to these young men the dangers of being involved with minors. If they aren't, I think they should be, because there is entirely too much of it going on. I explained to Nice Guy that teenage girls were excited and flattered to have a 22 year old man paying attention to them, and it isn't safe. He wanted to just stay here a while. By the time he left he was calmer, and I don't think he was as scared. His mom is working tonight, and he was afraid to tell her. I told him to tell her he'd learned an important lesson tonight, and that she wouldn't say anything to him that he hadn't already heard from me.

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Daughter was a good friend to him tonight. I'm proud of her. I'm also tired. She's going to have a hard time getting up in the morning. I'm not looking forward to that battle.

"My Mom Told Me I Can't Live Here Any More."

Yesterday Daughter asked me if she'd paid for my ipod yet. I asked her if she'd done any work since the last time we'd figured out how much she still owed me. "No."

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"Then you haven't earned any more money."

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She started talking about selling things to get money. "No, those are things I bought, so you can't sell them for money. Then she decided she was going to get a job in Town. "You need to complete the tasks on the chart so you will be ready for employment in the community."

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Yesterday she was in the dining room working on an art project. "Are you going to do any work today?"

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"What happens if I say no?"

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"There will be no electronics the rest of the day."

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"Fine. I'm not doing any work," and she stormed up to her room.

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I went up a minute later to find her watching her portable DVD player. I confiscated it. Of course, I had no right. I got my clothes out of the dryer and hung them up, and threw hers in a laundry basket.

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She came and got her clothes and took them upstairs. She was back down almost immediately and announced she'd hung them up and put them away. "I don't believe you. You need to at least do 3 things: put your clothes away, make your bed, and get the wet depends and put them in the trash." I have told her she has to take them out to the trash can daily, since I don't want them stinking up the house. Instead she's been hiding them in a wastebasket under the desk upstairs.

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She refused. I finally gave up and gave her her bedtime meds without the work being done because I wanted to go to bed (and because I didn't want to deal with her without the psych meds in her). She told me I was being unreasonable and she was through with me, and called me a b*tch. This final pronouncement was her response to my giving in and giving her her meds without her completing the tasks. I hadn't even said anything, just given her the meds.

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This morning I didn't wake her up. I came back home and went upstairs to get something, and she yelled (angrily) that she was in the kitchen. I informed her I wasn't looking for her and went back to the church.

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She came to worship (dressed appropriately). After worship she tried to engage me. I told her I was done being verbally abused by her. I told her that I deserved respect, and never called her names, so I wasn't going to talk to someone who called me names. So she called Therapist and informed her I was kicking her out of the house.

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It's amazing how she is always the victim.

Naming the Behavior

From the time she got home Daughter was acting the victim trying to get my attention. She was falling, complaining of vague physical complaints, and when I ignored it, she kept escalating. We sat down to supper and Sister called. Daughter got a pained look on her face and retreated to the living room. When I asked her what was wrong she ignored me. She came back into the kitchen and sat down across from me and started shaking uncontrollably.

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"Stop it! Take a deep breath and relax. You're fine."

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Sister asked what was wrong. "Daughter is trying to get herself into a seizure."

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That made Daughter mad. She immediately stopped shaking and told me to shut my trap. I got off the phone, and pointed out that ever since she got home, she'd been trying to get my attention. I pointed out it wasn't working, and it might be more effective to use her words and tell me what she wanted. She got mad. She finished her supper while I cleaned up.

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"I'm sorry."

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"What are you sorry for?"

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"For acting the fool."

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I hadn't been aware of all the times she had intentionally fallen, which is probably good. She informed me she'd been trying to break her ankle. We talked about how she'd been mad because I was busy when she got home.

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Her grasp of reality is still tenuous, at best. She is back with Flasher, who has an engagement ring for her and tickets to Hawaii. He has a friend who is going to finance an apartment, furniture and food for them. I was quite clear about the fact that none of this was true, and she didn't contradict me. She still thinks it's unfair that I don't approve her relationship with him. I listed the ways he has hurt her and lied to her, and asked if she would approve if I were in a relationship with someone like that. She was horrified-- of course she wouldn't. But she still can't figure out why I won't give him another chance. I told her once again that I can't stop her from being his girl friend, but he is not welcome in our home and I will not help her go meet him. I am so unreasonable.

Why?

Why do we spend thousands of dollars on placements for special needs kids and then decide that once they’re 18 they are cured and able to live on their own? We have an RTC in our county, and I have come in contact with some of their kids who have graduated to therapeutic foster homes. I have seen two of these young men graduate from high school. One is now in prison and has been labeled a sex offender. When Daughter went with him to the prom, I was assured that he was a “nice boy.” He graduated with Daughter 2 years ago.

The second is currently in the psych unit after his second suicide attempt. He moved into his apartment in June. Less than 3 months later, he has tried to kill himself—twice. I knew him better because he came to church. I knew him well enough to know that setting him up in an apartment on his own with no money and no job was an invitation to disaster.

I could go on about the disasters I have seen happen or see coming. I’ll be the first to acknowledge that living with a special needs young adult is not easy, but the answer is certainly not to throw them out into the world with minimal supervision.

I’m too tired to continue my rant, and I don’t have any answers. I do have a profound sadness for two young men who were set up for failure when they were kicked out of the nest too soon.

I’m going to go upstairs and see where Daughter is sleeping tonight. I hope she is back in her room. It has been exhausting to be around her again today, and I want some distance from her tonight. She hasn’t been up prowling, so maybe tonight the trazadone did its job and she’ll actually sleep.

On a more humorous note (on the other hand, maybe it's on a more tragic note), I was talking to Brother and emailed him the pictures of the sweatshirt remnants and the burning power pole. I cc'd my 2 sisters, and didn't put in an explanation. I got an immediate response from one sister demanding to know what had happened and if everyone was okay. She was trying to connect the two pictures, and had envisioned the pole fire somehow causing a beam that hit the sweatshirt. She was concerned about the health of anyone who had been wearing the sweatshirt when the event occurred. I called her and offered and apology and an explanation. The resulting conversation was a good one. My other sister tried to call me while I was at Bible Study tonight. By then, I had sent out an explanation of the pictures. She didn't leave a message, so I'm hoping one of my siblings filled in the details.

A Magnet

Daughter was sexually abused in her birth family. Because I am serving in a very small town and Daughter has had so many problems, including a number of psychiatric hospitalizations, we have been very open about her history. I figure it’s better to have people out their armed with the truth than to allow the rumor mill to create stories to fill in the blanks. People have generally been supportive and understanding because they know some of the reasons behind Daughter’s challenges, which is good. That was what I had hoped would happen. What I didn’t anticipate, though, was that I’d become a magnet for all the people in the community who have the pain of sex abuse in their families.

I have heard stories from all ages. They know I understand their pain. There have been times when I’ve felt like everyone I come in contact with has sexual abuse somewhere in their past of in their family. There are times I feel like I see it everywhere I look. It seems that death often brings the pain of incest back up in powerful ways. While every family deals with it differently, it always impacts the entire family.

I remember dealing with a family where I knew 2 generations had been victims of one man. His wife never wanted to know all the details, and never understood how bad it had been. Her children loved her, and sought to protect her from the terrible truth. When she died, there was a display board at the funeral home with pictures from her life, including several of her school pictures. When I looked at those pictures, I felt a wave of horror. These were not the smiling pictures of a happy child. There was fear and a certain watchfulness preserved in those pictures. I knew the look on her face. I’d seen that look on my daughter’s face many times.

Understanding dawned. I understood why she hadn’t wanted to know all that had happened. I understood why she hadn’t been able to deal with it. I understood, and I grieved. There were at least 3 generations of victims in that family. I began the conversation with those who have not been able to deal with their anger and pain. It is a conversation that will continue. Hopefully the conversations will help end the cycle.

If any good has come out of Daughter’s suffering, it is that I have become a magnet, a safe place for others to come and face their pain. I wish I weren’t a magnet. I wish there wasn’t a need for magnets. But there is, and I will listen, educate, and grieve.