HARSH

Hmmm... and we keep moving forward. The last few weeks of January, back at school, have been very up and down. First week was okay, second week was the worst we've had in the past 7 months, and the last week has been better. We were trying to connect the dots about what had pre-empted the terrible week: What changed? what's what what? what? That's what we spend most of our time doing in therapy. slowly un-picking the "what happened" of the past week.
Have you read "The Shock of the Fall"? by Nathan Filer

On the back of the horrible Xmas holidays, I started looking at stuff online. I've also been going through my own personal crisis - wanting to exit, leave the family home, feeling like nothing I do or say is any help. Feeling useless, unappreciated, broken down, hated.
Sometimes I feel like our family is crashing, smashing, disintegrating, falling apart, crisis-ing, imploding, collapsing in very. slow. motion.

This poem and it's corollary were very much on my lips that last January week :

This Be The Verse

By Philip Larkin
 

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   

    They may not mean to, but they do.   

They fill you with the faults they had

    And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

    By fools in old-style hats and coats,   

Who half the time were soppy-stern

    And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

    It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

    And don’t have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin, “This Be the Verse” from Collected Poems. Used by permission of The Society of Authors as the Literary Representative of the Estate of Philip Larkin.

They Tuck You Up

by Adrian Mitchell

They tuck you up, your mum and dad
They read you Peter Rabbit, too.
They give you all the treats they had
And add some extra, just for you.

They were tucked up when they were small,
(Pink perfume, blue tobacco-smoke),
By those whose kiss healed any fall,
Whose laughter doubled any joke.

Man hands on happiness to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
So love your parents all you can
And have some cheerful kids yourself.

(This poem, a response to this one, obviously, was inspired by a broadcaster's attempt to avoid swearing before the watershed when mentioning this poem. It was released online before it was published in any collection, and there seem to be many versions floating round the internet. In any case, it rarely fails to bring tears to my eyes.)

Balance is good. It's nice to see both sides of the coin. I do feel that we fall ONLY into one of them tho', and that is enormously depressing. What can you do or say to make things change ? I have no idea. We are out of options. Out of personal reserves. Out of plans A, B, C, D and E. I don't have a little cat Zee to pull out of my hat. I'm fucked.

I've been in a huge amount of physical pain the last week - I've managed to wrench my neck somehow doing some heavy pulling while training, so my cartilage on my vertebrae is inflamed. horribly inflamed. I've spent days at home, good stints in bed. I've shut everything down. It's been tough with the kids - their little lives continue apace, and mummy being "man-down" doesn't really stand in the way of rugby, football, karate, birthday parties, music practice, school trips, and all the rest of the "must get done's" in their lives. It's further driven me to moments of wanting to just opt out. I have no support - no-one I can turn to support me practically. I have booked the babysitters in for the nights that we cannot miss eg. psychiatrist appointment. But on a day-to-day basis I must soldier on. Regardless.

this is not what I wanted. I want happy times. Times when we laugh together and are happy. there are so, so few of those. We seem to spend so much time screaming at Zack, and him screaming at us. And then us both sitting, late at night, trying to think of new strategies for dealing with his :
. lack of self esteem
. inability to self-moderate
. refusal to comply, follow instructions, stick to the rules
. comfort eating
. need to have a drama about almost everything
. craving for physical touch
. self-loathing after the events
. tantrums in the face of 'boundaries'
. resistance to change
. inability to transition
. insolence, anger, rage and physical aggression
I honestly don't have a fucking clue. I'm just tired. Dog tired.

And to end - I happened upon this website on "parenting strong willed children" by Dr. Laura Markham. And the bit that struck me the most on the parenting tools page, was this item #10 on being HARSH with your children and how it fucks them up. I'm fucked up and I can see a direct causal link. It takes years, decades to fix the stuff that formed me when I was young. I still, at age 43, cannot think that I am worth-ful, have value, should be listened to. I always put myself last, and let people walk all over me, I create the fucked-up relationship that I had with my own mother, in many other relationships, because that's what I "know", and familiar is best when it comes to psychiatry. I hate that. I absolutely hate that.

it's been a whole week

So after much deliberation, angst and consideration we decided that Zack could go on a week's camp during the holidays. It's run by a group called CPAS. I spoke to every parent I know who's kids have been on one and the all spoke of it in glowing terms, talking about the great team who run it, the care, the experience they bring to the event, the other children, the friends they'll make, the activities they'll do. So last week we drove down to a spot in the sticks and left our 8 year old son in the care of people we've not met before (bar one - a friend from church who's a co-leader).

We wrote to him on Monday and he sent us a postcard which arrived on Friday. We worried and fretted about how it was going. We looked at the emergency number and wondered if it would ring. It didn't. We didn't hear a thing. In the meantime Calvin was clingy and demanding. I was at his beck and call the entire week with one thing and the next. He got to do lots of fun things that he enjoys like going horse riding, softplay, seeing friends, hamburgers with dad, and more. We were busy and our lives were so much quieter and calmer. It was palpable - like the volume had been turned down.
The only challenge of course was that my mum was staying with us, so I had another needy family member to "care for".
Saturday morning we got up at 5:45am and drove down and collected him. He was delighted to see us, we were so relieved to see him. He was fine! Full of news and songs and all the things he'd got up to in the week. It appears (and we haven't heard any differently) that the week passed without incident.
Coming home made me feel again that there is a terrible dynamic that has arisen between he and us. He rages with frustration and the yoke of oppression (it seems that's how he sells it to himself), he will not be told what to do - time for bed, time to bath, put your shoes on. It's ridiculous. He doesn't want to be told. Anything.
He came back smelling, with matted hair and filthy feet. I let it go last night but this morning I said to him, "you have to bath before we go out today". Of course that lead to an enormous tantrum, with screaming and shouting. He shrieks with anger and frustration but then when you offer to help, or the alternative of time alone he plays it both ways screaming "GO! A!WAY!" and then when you leave the room, screaming "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE!" so you come back in again. And 'round and 'round it goes.
Consequences? You throw things around in your room - you tidy it up again. You thrash around in the bath and splash water on the walls and floor - you clean it up.
He doesn't know what he wants. He screams how much he hates me and rails against having a mother, but then what's the alternative?
I've always been a parent who thinks that boundaries, routine, courtesy are important for a child. We've given Zack this. And here we are. There is a dynamic between us - one that leads to this crazy behaviour which is so tormenting. We spend so much time and energy talking it down, trying to be massively empathetic, reinforcing our commitment to him as parents.

Last week's review session:
Zack struggles massively with frustration. This is a very early developmental stage, he has not exited it. He doesn't know what to do, and his volatility and raging just points to this.
 - Surprise! surprise! Sometimes therapy tells you stuff you already know, sometimes it tells you something new. We know he is frustrated. He's been like that since he was little. He wants his own way. Every day. Strangely I have struggled with frustration too - but I think so much of it was about growing up in South Africa, parents, the State, feeling like you're not in control of your own life. Zack feels like that, but he's only 8.
He does not have ADHD.
- So what do we do?
He is intelligent, but hugely over sensitive.
He has excellent EQ but lacks self-control.
He is not resilient. Is this my fault ? I struggle with 'what people say', and often doubt myself. Have I unwittingly passed this insecurity on to my child. If I have, how did that happen ? Is it the outworking of "...don't do what I do, do what I say". But that he's done what I do, and not listened to anything I've said about "you are wonderful. you are smart. you are kind. you are funny. you are clever." Has he bought into, "Am I good enough? Have I failed? Am I a bad mother?" and turned that into, "I am rubbish. I am a failure. I am a bad son." ??

We've given him stability, lots of one-on-one time, he is so demanding and has the most god-awful stubborn streak. He has learnt that digging his heels in, is his way of taking control. We can't meet a deadline if he decides that he's not doing it. He has also taught his brother to do this, altho' in Calvin it can be circumvented because I can still pick him up and put him in the car/bath. It absolutely kills me - wrestling control from an 8 year old. The therapists all say, "there is no maliciousness, no desire to deliberately hurt us, it's ALL IMPULSES." But when he decides he doesn't want to do something, that is the end of that. He is 50kgs+ and as solid as a rock. The armchair critics - yes, I know you're out there (the web is populated with your type) - would say, why is your kid so fat? Why aren't you taking control? You're such a shite parent. What's the matter with you? Honestly...
Honestly?

Two things in response to
anonymous critics online :
1. If you're without fault, cast the first stone. (AND I'll listen to what you have to say.)
2. a version of the quote about walking a mile in a man's shoes...
"You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it"-- To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

I cannot bear my eight year old's behaviour

Taking stock
Our son has been seeing a child psycho-therapist for 10 months. We see our own therapist as a complimentary therapy to everything that our son is enduring. We hoped psycho-therapy would make a difference - life is excruciating at home. The idea with therapy is that it becomes a receptacle for the "difficult" emotions, eg. anger, rage, frustration; and thereby alleviates the pressure in school- and home-situations. Now that his teacher is 'playing ball', things at school seem to be infinitismally better, but life at home has got harder and harder. We are not finding our dealings with our son easier, instead we are finding them harder, more volatile, more extreme, more high and low. He is more horrific in his dealings with us. I am sick-to-death of the screaming and vitriol. I don't have any energy, any joy, any strength left. I am now seeing my own therapist twice a week to "get through" each week. It's impossible to not feel resentful, not to hate your child's behaviour. The destruction and pain it wreaks, ripples on for days.

Environment
We had a meeting with the school to discuss his behaviour. It is BLATANTLY obvious that they're only interested in 1) good behaviour and 2) academic results, so that they can get the OFSTED ratings that they so covet and want to retain. That means there is no room for caring or EQ. They cannot proffer any emotional support to children, that's the kid's f--king own problem. All I hear is how much the headteacher cares about the children and pours herself into providing for them, helping them, assisting them. But my experience of my son being verbally bullied by other children, being spat on, being very slowly and cunningly excluded and side-lined, means I have 0% faith in those statements.
There are courses of action that the school has embarked on, without our consent, that have compromised the psycho-therapy. This past meeting left me with the impression that the bi-weekly "huddle" groups devised by the SENCO are a mixed group of children, boys and girls. The truth is that problem/ disruptive/ challenging BOYS are being pulled out and thrown together for a period of time, so that they aren't a (visible) problem during assembly. The school is putting a positive spin on it, but I think they're deliberately trying to put on a "show" of perfectly behaved children. Particularly in Friday assemblies, when parents of one of the classes (each class gets a turn, week after week) are on site for the entire assembly. Any issues would then be "on show" for all the world to see, and discuss, and mull over and JUDGE... so it's much safer to pull out the non-co-operative kids and put them in a separate room. Yup! that's what they're doing.

The reality is that my son is f--king hard work. He's a pain in the a-s-. He isn't a perfect little, vanilla, sit-quietly, listen-attentively, don't-rock-the-boat, kind of boy. He has a big personality, he is demanding, he is creative, he wants to show you that he can, he wants to be the star of the class, he wants to shine, to be praised. But there is SO f--king LITTLE of that to go around, and the only ones who get any praise, don't have Y chromosomes.

Our part in all this
I want to help. I want psycho-therapy to make a difference. We have altered our approach to parenting, we have felt completely at sea, we have drifted with the tide of rage and tantrums and been ship-wrecked on the rocks of despair. I don't have any answers, but there isn't anyone who does. We just take things a day at a time. Most of the time the days are piled high with shit, but we have moments of victory. This week, so far, I have had a few trips into school without incident, but mostly the day is stacked high with challenging, angry, raging, behaviour.
We are putting our trust and our hope in psycho-therapy, but definitely feel that we need to do more. There is NO-ONE to turn to. We don't know anyone who's been through this. Our own parents are completely useless - the tools that they've bequeathed to us are shite, useless and damaging. They don't have answers. Our friends are helpless and useless. Our true friends are standing by us, but that's just a 'shoulder to cry on'. We have experienced a crisis of faith - loyalty to God, Jesus and the church. True, we have gone through so much more than just this parenting issue (repeated crimes, fabric of our home poisoned with dry-rot, deceitful home sellers, depression, and so forth), but the subject of this blog is parenting, and coping as a family. It's been a crisis, and I have felt like I'm flayed by life.

Ahead ?
Following a weekend of extreme behaviour, on the back of a very difficult Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, we find ourselves asking the very big question about Zack's ability to turn himself around. We are trying everything to repair and mend and change his environment. That will take time. He does believe that he is unloveable, which is soul-destroying to watch as a mother. You can say "I love you" a million times, and it amounts to nought. He doesn't believe it.
His motivation, every day, in almost every action, is to prove to himself, that he is a failure, that he is not worth anything, that he isn't love-able, that he is friendless for a reason. It is no longer a daily thing, but is happening hourly in our home. The destruction, chaos and pain that it causes is harrowing. Both watching it play out; living with the aftermath of emotions; seeing the damage it does to your marital relationship; trying to contain the crippling effect it has on other siblings. We are both at the end of our tether - husband says he could endure much more, but I'm on my knees, on my face, lying prostrate on the ground, sobbing... waving a white flag....

I. . . . . . . . give . . . . . . . . . .up

I just can't go on like this any more. Something has to change.
So many putrifactions of advice have been given, so much arm-chair diagnoses has been made, that I am cautious to commit to any course of action.
However, in the face of a groundswell of evidence I do think that we are going to have to consider that our son has ADHD.
In my books, that is a swear-word. ADHD is some shite made up by Novartis to sell it's product.
I've been pouring over all the online articles, all the opinions, all the stories.
I'm going for some medical advice tomorrow, from a local paediatric MD/doc. Watch this space....

No news... AIN'T good news

Wondering why I've been SSOOOOOoooooo quiet ? Don't wonder. Things have been pretty i.n.s.a.n.e. here. I feel massively insecure about "talking" about it... When you talk about it, it's like confessing. When you confess it implies that you've done something wrong - that you've failed. But really we're in a situation something of our own making, but also of our child's manufacture. Nature v Nurture. You've heard it before. There is a teetering see-saw that sometimes slams down onto the ground, but then other times you're cruising and you think it's going to be okay until the next slam. Basically we're just trying to tag one another and stay calm, deal with the tantrums, our own feelings of panic, the school's seeming acts of sabotage, people's impatience, other children's cruelty, the frustration, anger, highs and lows. He's only 8, he's only 8... we keep saying to ourselves, but yes... he's only eight years old. Anyone who meets him thinks he's 10 even 11. He's tall, he's big. He "seems" to be older than he really is. But he's only 8.
How do I tell people this ? I can't go to each person. Individually. and have the whole conversation with them. But how do I protect him ? He needs us to be his "shield", to care for him, to protect him from the world - people's unkindness, selfishness, insensitivity, judgemental-ness...

Yes, that's what it comes down to - being judged. Are you judging me because my kid is "different" ? Are you judging me because he's "difficult" ? People tell me he's bright. He's very intelligent.

I look at his peer group and they're all exhibiting this nasty attitude problem. Apparently 8 year olds have a 'testosterone blip' which makes them aggressive and full of anxiety. It's a time of sifting for them, but bloody hell, it's a time of sifting for THE entire FAMILY.

Tired. Alot of the time.