March 27, 2018

The honeymoon period is officially over. We have really really good days still. But we also have really really bad ones. 

I sob sometimes.

Not because I have any regrets. I still am 100% in. I sob because I am starting to see the reality of the devastation in his precious little soul. I sob because I can see that beyond the beautiful forest facade I perceive when I look at my sweet sweet boy, is actually a black charred wrecked wasteland where a series of assholes and subsequent unfortunate events have set fire to him and let him burn for years and years and years.

I sob because I can see that no matter how much we help him, normal might not ever be a thing again. At least not completely. 

I sob because I see the five-year-old that was starved and neglected and ignored. I sob because he deserved so so so much better than every shitty hand he has been dealt.

I sob because God speaks into my shuddering soul: I gave him to you. I gave him to you. And the honor is so humbling and I am so aware that I am not worthy, so aware that I can only succeed because God is backing me up. So aware that I could never ever do this without him.

I sob because my love for Jackson is matched only by my fury when I see every side of him. And then I have to meditate on the love and push away the fury and see the scared burned-up little soul inside. And I meditate and meditate and meditate on that. Filter the fury away.

Love love love, I meditate. Pushing the irritation out.

It’s the only thing that will win.

Control is his main trigger. When he feels like he’s got no control it sets him off. So he does everything he can, wildly and without aim, to assert control over the situation. Running away from us is one way he asserts control over himself. In most parenting situations, you can say, sit your ass down, I’m not done talking to you. 

But I am quickly learning how not normal all of this is. Normal parenting is kind of going out the window, in fact. We are in uncharted territory, having to be aware that he is not seeing clearly, thinking clearly. 

Letting him run away from us is actually important, we have learned. One, because as foster paretns we cannot physically restrain him anyway, but mostly because he needs that freedom to choose to flee until he feels safe agasin. Fight, flight or flee—once it’s triggered, it has ot run its course before he is in his right mind again, before he can reason again. A terrified animal flees… but then Jack comes back. 

So whether he leaves the room, or leaves the house, this is his way of feeling control over his life, that he can choose to run when he needs to. So we let him.

He will soon learn that there are things we are in control of and there are things we will let him be in control of. And that balance will eventually bring a level of comfort to him. These early weeks and months are all about learning each other. And the power struggles are getting more and more intense as the days unfold.

When he does run, the boundaries are still firmly in place when he returns. And there is a calm acceptance in his response to them by this point. A reverent obedience, a submission, Okay, he says, I’m done fighting it. I see it isn’t moving now. And he can reason again at this point, he is done firing off without reason. 

He regresses to a much younger age when this happens. So he never goes far, comes back quickly because he wants us to see how upset he is.

After an episode he stays very young for several hours, usually crawling around on the floor, playing happily with the dogs, underfoot in the kitchen, while I bustle around cooking and cleaning. He makes sure he is very close to me and I let my legs touch him regularly for comfort. He makes cute little noises and seems very happy, almost like nothing happened.

I said to him last night, after the worst episode we have had yet, (I was holding him tightly and he was folded into my hug like a little boy) I love you, you are so precious to me, I said, I never ever want to hurt you.

To which he replied, happily and matter-of-factly, as a small child might, Oh, you could never hurt me. I’ve been through too much. I even ran once from a Rottweiler. That was really scary.

We laughed and then he was on the floor scooting around and being happy, brushing up against my legs to make sure I was near and not going far from him.

Letting him run is so important. He needs to have things he is in control of right now until he learns to feel some semblance of safety with us. He always comes back.

Just another night parenting a boy who is so caught in so many ages and stages and so much fear he can;t control it when the brain stem suddenly takes over. 

Just another night.

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