It's a pristine morning. The sun is finally peeking its head out, streaming through our windows, and the birds are getting as excited as I am. It rained all night, and we've had a stream of regular rain and clouds for several days so I wasn't expecting the light.It was an unusually calm morning getting the kids off to school. After some crazy Andrew-drama last evening, I was finally in a zone of peace and calmness. I wish I'd had that peace yesterday. It was one of those days in which I kept having to leave the room, take a breather and get centered because Andrew was in one of his moods and I wanted to pull my hair out. He has been purposefully seeking negative attention. It's a craving he seems to have lately, and always fades away when we completly ignore it, but then he melts down into anger and tears. I'm human, so after about two hours of negative behaviors I slipped into the cycle of non-ignoring- "No, Andrew. Don't do that, Andrew! You do that one more time, and there will be a consequence!" and then the consequence holds little value to him. He is testing his limits daily, shocking us to no end, and there comes a point where he cannot be ignored.
I found a metal licence plate in his room last night. It was one of those small "Kansas" ones with his name on it that kids put on their bicycles. It was cut into three pieces on his drafting table, sharp edges sticking out, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how he cut it apart (he has no scissors in his room, as far as I know). This was too much after he'd taken a book and torn the back cover off along with the last ten pages last week. After a scolding, I had to go take a breather while Daniel went in and talked to him about the real issues.
It's obvious, ever since Andrew came home, that he doesn't believe he deserves anything he has. His room is sparse for this reason. He breaks almost everything, and the things he can't break he damages. I'll never forget painting his room as a surprise, and when he saw it he was deeply touched, in tears. Later that evening he was agonizing and frustrated because he couldn't "tear the walls down." He kept asking me why he couldn't tear the walls apart or knock them down. Last night we both talked to him about how deserving he is of everything, that he's good enough to have nice things, that he's worthy of being loved, and that he needs to work on telling himself this every day (even if he doesn't believe it at first). Something struck a cord when Daniel was talking to him because tears welled up in his eyes. The first step toward healing anything is to name it, or call it out. Acknowledgment is really half the battle. He agreed that he feels undeserving, so now he's onto the real stuff....the part where he has to accept all the love contained in all the gifts we give him. That's so tough.
He had asolutely nothing in India for nearly 7 years. All his clothes, including undergarments, were community property. Of the few toys they had, none "belonged" to him. After coming home to his very own bedroom with just a few books, toys, 2-3 stuffed animals, a dresser of clothes with his name in them, a trunk and bookshelf, he must have felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude, but with confusion and a sense of unworthiness. He took all his toys, stuffed animals and books and stuffed them under his bed, out of sight, so that it appeared he had nothing. We will never forget that because it was so unexpected and odd. The therapist at the time told us he may have sensory issues (which he does) and could have been overwhelmed with having too much stimuli around him. I got the sense he was afraid that someone would take it from him, and also couldn't bear to look at them. Whatever the case, he still has work to do in this area and it will likely be an ongoing thing in his life. The key is to make him 'aware' of it so that he knows and understands himself, and gains tools for how to handle the unhealthy (and untrue) thoughts.
I have to be honest and say that sometimes a part of me gets lost in hopelessness with Andrew. His issues of pain, anguish, trauma and low self-esteem seem almost insurmountable and they terrify me. I cannot relate to it personally, but what I sense at times breaks my heart. I feel terrified about his teen years and what may happen if he becomes lost in the delusion of pain and self-loathing. The "what-ifs" can drive any parent crazy, but often bring me to a place of realization. I understand that I can't do any of this alone, and that it's not me trying to heal Andrew, and that ultimately he will only receive tools from me...the healing has to come from within himself. And then there is the bigger, more powerful reality. I look back over the past 28 months in awe and disbelief, seeing how quickly he's grown and overcome so much already. His resiliency and capacity to love and attach so deeply continue to inspire me, and he has progressed in ways I thought would take at least a decade or more. I get excited when I think of the person he'll be as this type of progress continues. Most of the time I live in that place of knowing... he came to us for a reason, and has great work to do. I am simply here to serve his soul in whatever ways I can. God knows he has already served me immeasurably, and service is what it's all about.
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