More than Control
As a mom I want to think that I'm in control of what goes on in my home. I want to control our schedule and some aspects of our day. When you are dealing with a kid from trauma control may be a bigger issue than you realize.
While we all want to have some form of control over our lives, it became blatantly clear to me that a lot of my new daughter's behaviors were stemming from her desire for control. If she offered to empty the dishwasher, if it was her idea she'd gladly do it, joyfully even. But, if it wasn't her idea and I casually said, "Hey why don't you empty the dishwasher," she would suddenly be convulsing on the floor screaming at the top of her lungs. She'd list all the reasons her body suddenly didn't work and how it was too hard, too hard. Tears and snot would streak her face as her screams would rise. I learned to tell her, "When you are ready to make a good choice and stop throwing a fit, wash your face and hands and then empty the dishwasher." Yet this bothered me. It was wasting my time. I wanted the dishwasher emptied now, so it could be refilled. After all we would need those clean dishes for dinner. I felt my whole day slipping away; my time table being completely rearranged. I knew from experience this fit would last at least half an hour. I felt her gaining control through her fit, even if in the end she still did the job.
Then there were the times that I'd say, "Please pick up your dolls and take them to your room." She'd look at me, and it was like I could see the wheels turning in her head. She'd pick up her toys and then say, "I'm not just picking up my dolls, I'm going to pick up all the toys in the room, I'm going to clean the entire room." She'd say it in a tone like "You told me to do this one thing well I'm not going to listen, I'm going to do it differently." It was almost comical at times, okay go ahead clean the whole room, that's not going to bother me. But if I said, "Oh that sounds great, clean up the whole room," then she would start screaming. "You're so mean, you think I'm your slave, you're forcing me to clean the entire HOUSE." I felt like I couldn't ever say the right thing. Again I felt like she was in control.
Instead of setting the tone and the temperature, I was being a thermometer and reading her temperature. If she was in a bad mood, then I knew my day was shot, and I'd convey we were having a bad day. She was desperately trying to control my actions. She was wanting to get a rise out of me. She came from trauma. She came from upheaval. That was comfortable to her, as bad as it sounds. Even if she knew somewhere inside that she didn't like it. Even if she longed to be truly loved and secure and protected, she was used to disfunction, screaming, abuse or ignoring. Suddenly, what was normal to her had changed. Let's face it, nothing was ever in her control. She was abandoned, hurt, shuffled around, she had learned that people couldn't be trusted and those that are supposed to protect you don't. Now she was pushing and testing to see when we'd do the same. How could she get us in a rage, like she was used to? Would we hit her and tell her we hated her like her previous "family?"
While I did not hit her and say mean things to her, I'm sure my eyes and body language said it loud and clear. I was angry, I was frustrated, I was sick of her behavior and my glare in those moments probably conveyed what she interpreted as hatred. She doesn't read my eyes and body language as, "Oh, mommy is frustrated right now at my behavior I should change what I'm doing." She reads my eyes as "See I knew I was bad, and worthless, I knew I could make them hate me too, pretty soon they'll be hurting me too. I knew I couldn't trust them. "
As I thought about all this I realized there is a spiritual component. Her birth-family is entrenched in abuse, and pain. The cycle perpetuates from generation to generation with drug use, physical, sexual and verbal abuse, and the feelings of worthlessness. She is removed from that situation, in a Christian family. Yet, that doesn't change the fact that the true enemy, Satan, seeks to kill and destroy. He still wants to keep that cycle going. He desires her to feel hated and worthless wherever she is. But… Jesus desires her to be whole, to be healed to be able to accept our love and ultimately HIS.
I had to make sure that no matter what she was throwing at me, physically or figuratively that I remained in control of myself. I cannot control her, or how she will react to my requests. I can control my eyes, to convey concern and love, and my body to convey the willingness to help her. Believe me this is hard. It takes so much effort. There are days when I feel too exhausted to make much effort. In those moments I pray, "Lord, help me to not grow weary in doing good. Give me self control. May I only relinquish control to you God." To myself I say, "have self control...look on her with love." To her I say, "What you are doing right now is making a bad choice, but I know you can make a good choice. I believe in you. When you're ready to do it right, I'm right here." Little by little I see her giving up the fight for control and accepting that this new life is better.
While we all want to have some form of control over our lives, it became blatantly clear to me that a lot of my new daughter's behaviors were stemming from her desire for control. If she offered to empty the dishwasher, if it was her idea she'd gladly do it, joyfully even. But, if it wasn't her idea and I casually said, "Hey why don't you empty the dishwasher," she would suddenly be convulsing on the floor screaming at the top of her lungs. She'd list all the reasons her body suddenly didn't work and how it was too hard, too hard. Tears and snot would streak her face as her screams would rise. I learned to tell her, "When you are ready to make a good choice and stop throwing a fit, wash your face and hands and then empty the dishwasher." Yet this bothered me. It was wasting my time. I wanted the dishwasher emptied now, so it could be refilled. After all we would need those clean dishes for dinner. I felt my whole day slipping away; my time table being completely rearranged. I knew from experience this fit would last at least half an hour. I felt her gaining control through her fit, even if in the end she still did the job.
Then there were the times that I'd say, "Please pick up your dolls and take them to your room." She'd look at me, and it was like I could see the wheels turning in her head. She'd pick up her toys and then say, "I'm not just picking up my dolls, I'm going to pick up all the toys in the room, I'm going to clean the entire room." She'd say it in a tone like "You told me to do this one thing well I'm not going to listen, I'm going to do it differently." It was almost comical at times, okay go ahead clean the whole room, that's not going to bother me. But if I said, "Oh that sounds great, clean up the whole room," then she would start screaming. "You're so mean, you think I'm your slave, you're forcing me to clean the entire HOUSE." I felt like I couldn't ever say the right thing. Again I felt like she was in control.
Instead of setting the tone and the temperature, I was being a thermometer and reading her temperature. If she was in a bad mood, then I knew my day was shot, and I'd convey we were having a bad day. She was desperately trying to control my actions. She was wanting to get a rise out of me. She came from trauma. She came from upheaval. That was comfortable to her, as bad as it sounds. Even if she knew somewhere inside that she didn't like it. Even if she longed to be truly loved and secure and protected, she was used to disfunction, screaming, abuse or ignoring. Suddenly, what was normal to her had changed. Let's face it, nothing was ever in her control. She was abandoned, hurt, shuffled around, she had learned that people couldn't be trusted and those that are supposed to protect you don't. Now she was pushing and testing to see when we'd do the same. How could she get us in a rage, like she was used to? Would we hit her and tell her we hated her like her previous "family?"
While I did not hit her and say mean things to her, I'm sure my eyes and body language said it loud and clear. I was angry, I was frustrated, I was sick of her behavior and my glare in those moments probably conveyed what she interpreted as hatred. She doesn't read my eyes and body language as, "Oh, mommy is frustrated right now at my behavior I should change what I'm doing." She reads my eyes as "See I knew I was bad, and worthless, I knew I could make them hate me too, pretty soon they'll be hurting me too. I knew I couldn't trust them. "
As I thought about all this I realized there is a spiritual component. Her birth-family is entrenched in abuse, and pain. The cycle perpetuates from generation to generation with drug use, physical, sexual and verbal abuse, and the feelings of worthlessness. She is removed from that situation, in a Christian family. Yet, that doesn't change the fact that the true enemy, Satan, seeks to kill and destroy. He still wants to keep that cycle going. He desires her to feel hated and worthless wherever she is. But… Jesus desires her to be whole, to be healed to be able to accept our love and ultimately HIS.
I had to make sure that no matter what she was throwing at me, physically or figuratively that I remained in control of myself. I cannot control her, or how she will react to my requests. I can control my eyes, to convey concern and love, and my body to convey the willingness to help her. Believe me this is hard. It takes so much effort. There are days when I feel too exhausted to make much effort. In those moments I pray, "Lord, help me to not grow weary in doing good. Give me self control. May I only relinquish control to you God." To myself I say, "have self control...look on her with love." To her I say, "What you are doing right now is making a bad choice, but I know you can make a good choice. I believe in you. When you're ready to do it right, I'm right here." Little by little I see her giving up the fight for control and accepting that this new life is better.
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