An article caught my eye today, Huffington Post's "National Children's Day: Why is it important for parents to focus on their own wellbeing"
How do we care for ourselves ? Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed by the demands of life, my children, my husband, all the responsibilities of running a home, everyone's social lives, feeding, clothing, co-ordinating, that my needs and my identity are deleted. I allow them to be crushed into a tiny corner by the needs of these three people. Ah the tyranny of the inner voice !
I remember feeling so strongly that the Parenting Course was a bridge too far...
Here we sat, listening to all the fine advice in the world on raising children the right way, but all I felt was EMPTY. I raged against the course's premise, the assumption that every mummy and daddy has all their shit sorted, that they're filled to the brim with good feelings, good intentions, oodles of energy - both emotional and physical, and lots of support. It's someone's dream. It certainly didn't reflect my reality when we did it. I felt locked out of that 'normal': families that had a few struggles, but overall were on top of things, had healthy emotional and psychological lives, where the adults were adults, and the children were children. What I realised - thanks in a large part to therapy - is that THAT idyllic 'normal' was absolute drivel. Nicky and Sila Lee have issues, all the people they interviewed have issues, the people sitting next to me on the course had issues, the leaders of the course had issues. The course didn't deal with those issues, instead it added the enormous burden of 'how you should do the job'. Ha! what a joke.
Teaching parenting is much like raising children - a combination of nature and nurture. Attending that course was a bit like trying to nurture ourselves, to feed the bits that felt wholely unprepared for this role. While what we do when we parent is live out our own experience of being children again, and we do it to our kids. It brings me back to that post I wrote in January 2015 - with the two poems.
We really have to learn how to recognise and affirm the (innate) parenting in ourselves that is entirely nature, and be empowered to nurture ourselves and grow. A parenting course is NOT going to do that.
We need kindness and love, from within and without, to take the next step to being the parents; not the buddies, not the nazis, but the adults in the relationship.
My most recent insight is the essentialness of joint parenting - but that's another blog post.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 01, 2017
Saturday, January 31, 2015
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 :
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, 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.
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 :
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.
by Adrian Mitchell
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.
Monday, August 04, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
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....
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....
Wednesday, July 02, 2014
Oh! to Conquer ourselves...
"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell." - Buddha
the journey continues...
So we had our meeting with the head teacher, Senco, class teacher on Tuesday. Bits of it were positive. Too much of felt like what we were saying fell on deaf ears. We spoke about the spitting incident - raised, courageously, by the therapist - it feel on dumb, deaf, heartless, soulless ears. It's not helpful, it's not kind, it's not making me feel like they are 'on side'.
Honestly... it appeared that the school were defensive. There was a lot of gushy, "Oh! yes! we do this.. and we do that... and we're ALWAYS trying to build him up, be encouraging."
We questioned them on the dreaded "B" word.
Response : (deadpan) "No, there is no bullying in his class."
What am I supposed to infer from that ?
**f--kers**
My gut instinct is that these people are not to be trusted, but that at the moment, we have no choice. This is the institution that our son is enrolled in. In fact we have more than one child there, so there ARE consequences.
Good advice would say "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." but right now, I don't see any way of being a brown-noser to the headteacher and school secretary. The latter is an absolute f--king bitch, with a massive log in her cornea, the former is too powerful to tangle with. The ripples will affect the future of the innocents. It's a no-go-zone.
I do feel f--ked by the system. I did hate school. I was always delighted to be away from it all - part of me is a snob. Lowest common denominator: having to be mates with every single spiteful little bitch that's in your class, in your year, is soul-destroying. No-one listened and no-one cared.
I don't want the same for my sons.
the journey continues...
So we had our meeting with the head teacher, Senco, class teacher on Tuesday. Bits of it were positive. Too much of felt like what we were saying fell on deaf ears. We spoke about the spitting incident - raised, courageously, by the therapist - it feel on dumb, deaf, heartless, soulless ears. It's not helpful, it's not kind, it's not making me feel like they are 'on side'.
Honestly... it appeared that the school were defensive. There was a lot of gushy, "Oh! yes! we do this.. and we do that... and we're ALWAYS trying to build him up, be encouraging."
We questioned them on the dreaded "B" word.
Response : (deadpan) "No, there is no bullying in his class."
What am I supposed to infer from that ?
**f--kers**
My gut instinct is that these people are not to be trusted, but that at the moment, we have no choice. This is the institution that our son is enrolled in. In fact we have more than one child there, so there ARE consequences.
Good advice would say "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." but right now, I don't see any way of being a brown-noser to the headteacher and school secretary. The latter is an absolute f--king bitch, with a massive log in her cornea, the former is too powerful to tangle with. The ripples will affect the future of the innocents. It's a no-go-zone.
I do feel f--ked by the system. I did hate school. I was always delighted to be away from it all - part of me is a snob. Lowest common denominator: having to be mates with every single spiteful little bitch that's in your class, in your year, is soul-destroying. No-one listened and no-one cared.
I don't want the same for my sons.
Saturday, May 03, 2014
Oh daddy, Oh!
Would you like an hour or so to yourself after a Saturday-day of childcare (on top of a week of childcare)? If you pop out for coffee at 5:50pm and you come home at 7:10pm, you shouldn't worry about whether or not the kids are going to need dinner. You shouldn't have to pick up the phone and remind your husband, who is in charge, that the children need feeding. You don't need to remind him what the behavioural consequences are if you don't feed children timeously. You shouldn't feel guilty about wanting a bit of time to yourself; leaving him in charge when he's got things to do, you're going to go mental if you don't leave the house NOW.
You shouldn't but you DO.
You shouldn't but you SHOULD HAVE.
You SHOULDN'T HAVE TO.
f**kity > f**kity > f**kity
You shouldn't but you DO.
You shouldn't but you SHOULD HAVE.
You SHOULDN'T HAVE TO.
f**kity > f**kity > f**kity
Sunday, April 27, 2014
oh Zack. what next ?
Back at our therapy sessions after a 5-week break. Ruth (our therapist) walked through a few of the holiday incidents with us. Essentially we've come to the realisation that all the tools we have for parenting - inherited from our parents - are useless. They just don't work. Growing up in South Africa, respect was something garnered from fear. Fear of physical punishment - either a hiding with the wooden spoon, or the belt. That was how the game was played...
Parent : You respect me, or I'll beat the crap out of you.
We are in the enviable position of having a child who at the age of 7 was already too strong to manhandle. I cannot physically lead him to his bedroom if he doesn't want to go. He is too heavy to pick up (when he's having a tantrum) or even scoop up (in slumber). So any kind of physical direction, eg. "It's time to go to your bedroom" (try and lead him there), or "You need to leave your brother alone" (try and separate them) or "Give me the iPad, you can't have it any more because you won't listen/ have broken our agreement" (try and wrestle it out of his hands), is in vain. A complete waste of time.
The realisation that you have a starting point of less than zero, is a very sobering and depressing moment. I had a conversation with a friend about this during the holidays and he was horrified that I felt, I have no tools. We're the same age, and he insisted that I do have tools. So, let's see what tools I have :
1. my children are not rational
...A = I cannot use logic on them. My arguing about a point is wasted.
2. my children don't listen very well, particularly to my voice
...A = using alot of words is a waste of time.
3. authority. In this present age, who has authority ?
...A = I'm a provider of love, support, meals, roof, bed, clean clothing
4. discipline and control
...A = here is where the massive black hole exists. What do I do ?
4.1 I feel desperate when Zack is physically aggressive towards Keith. I tell him not to. But what am I appealing to? His sense of obligation ? He doesn't have one. His respect of his father ? I don't think he has much. Let's "do the right thing"? Ha! what's that ? Anyone ?
...A = Keith says not to worry. He's in control. But the physicality of the 'threat' (and believe me he knows, and is growing in knowledge, that he's strong) makes me fearful. I do feel like I need to "contain" that behaviour. *Therapist would say, "let go of the need to "contain" or "control". Just be". My response, "Oh. Okay!" but all the while I'm worried about the future and the consequences.... If I let Zack continue in this manner, he'll think it's okay to act in a menacing way when he's frustrated. Menacing towards his peers, menacing towards teachers, menacing towards other authority figures. What's the end point ?
4.2 Self-regulated behaviour in society
If 1, 2 and 3 are defunct, how on earth do I get my child to be a part of society? He has to learn to self-regulate. Books don't fix a damn thing but many of the lessons I've read recently have laid down the strong statistical case for children who learn to defer gratification. It's the one indicator for "success" in later life. If my son can't control himself, he can't defer anything. That means that the statistics are stacked against him - he isn't going to be able to sort out his shit in life. I can't fix that. How depressing!
4.3 We need to function in school. You can't run amok. You can't just opt out of the academic flow. Getting homework done is excrutiating. I fucking hate every moment of the cajoling, the bribing and the begging. But, again, it's all about finding a NEW way without any of 1, 2 or 3. I need to be the entertainer. I need to be the parent who makes learning fun.
The task is enormous and onerous.
I want to sit down and weep. Alot.
Parent : You respect me, or I'll beat the crap out of you.
We are in the enviable position of having a child who at the age of 7 was already too strong to manhandle. I cannot physically lead him to his bedroom if he doesn't want to go. He is too heavy to pick up (when he's having a tantrum) or even scoop up (in slumber). So any kind of physical direction, eg. "It's time to go to your bedroom" (try and lead him there), or "You need to leave your brother alone" (try and separate them) or "Give me the iPad, you can't have it any more because you won't listen/ have broken our agreement" (try and wrestle it out of his hands), is in vain. A complete waste of time.
The realisation that you have a starting point of less than zero, is a very sobering and depressing moment. I had a conversation with a friend about this during the holidays and he was horrified that I felt, I have no tools. We're the same age, and he insisted that I do have tools. So, let's see what tools I have :
1. my children are not rational
...A = I cannot use logic on them. My arguing about a point is wasted.
2. my children don't listen very well, particularly to my voice
...A = using alot of words is a waste of time.
3. authority. In this present age, who has authority ?
...A = I'm a provider of love, support, meals, roof, bed, clean clothing
4. discipline and control
...A = here is where the massive black hole exists. What do I do ?
4.1 I feel desperate when Zack is physically aggressive towards Keith. I tell him not to. But what am I appealing to? His sense of obligation ? He doesn't have one. His respect of his father ? I don't think he has much. Let's "do the right thing"? Ha! what's that ? Anyone ?
...A = Keith says not to worry. He's in control. But the physicality of the 'threat' (and believe me he knows, and is growing in knowledge, that he's strong) makes me fearful. I do feel like I need to "contain" that behaviour. *Therapist would say, "let go of the need to "contain" or "control". Just be". My response, "Oh. Okay!" but all the while I'm worried about the future and the consequences.... If I let Zack continue in this manner, he'll think it's okay to act in a menacing way when he's frustrated. Menacing towards his peers, menacing towards teachers, menacing towards other authority figures. What's the end point ?
4.2 Self-regulated behaviour in society
If 1, 2 and 3 are defunct, how on earth do I get my child to be a part of society? He has to learn to self-regulate. Books don't fix a damn thing but many of the lessons I've read recently have laid down the strong statistical case for children who learn to defer gratification. It's the one indicator for "success" in later life. If my son can't control himself, he can't defer anything. That means that the statistics are stacked against him - he isn't going to be able to sort out his shit in life. I can't fix that. How depressing!
4.3 We need to function in school. You can't run amok. You can't just opt out of the academic flow. Getting homework done is excrutiating. I fucking hate every moment of the cajoling, the bribing and the begging. But, again, it's all about finding a NEW way without any of 1, 2 or 3. I need to be the entertainer. I need to be the parent who makes learning fun.
The task is enormous and onerous.
I want to sit down and weep. Alot.
Friday, December 27, 2013
real. and healthy.
... or less to follow, as the case may be. I just don't have the time to write - it's crissmiss and my in-laws are here. the kids are on holiday. hell, I don't even have time to wash my hair, nevermind blog.
So it's 7.40am and I'm thinking of Shrek the Halls' take on Clement Clark Moore's poem, which opens with:
"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;..."
Altho it is now the 27th of December, the rest is true. All I can hear is the wind howling outside and the traffic noise starting to build up.
I've been lying awake in bed since 5:15am and thinking about emotional honesty and being real. How hard it is when you are a parent, to teach your children emotional honesty and to give them resilience. I'd say both my family and my in-laws have screwed up emotional worlds, so there isn't a whole lot to work with in the way of role models. I'm somewhere near the back of the queue on emotional expertise, but I would say that 4 3/4 years of therapy has taught me a thing or two.
It's been a big deal trying to get my husband to share the emotional load with me. In his family, no-one talks about how they feel. Feelings are VERY SCAREY!!!! So you don't let them out. Raising children means getting in touch with ALL your feelings - kids don't let you have anything of your own. You wanna go to the toilet, sorry, they're coming too. You wanna freak out? Yep, they're standing right there in front of you a) driving you to it, or b) watching the fall out. Every parent comes face to face with their best and their worst when rearing a child. Last week I felt like a bare-breasted Amazonian, in a corner, with my child in one arm and a sword in the other.
In our relationship, my husband doesn't do strong emotion. Nope, he leaves that to me. It was a small problem that reared its head every now and then, but it's become more of an issue as the kids have grown up. I end up being the 'angry' mommy. I'm the one who has to do the "feeling" while daddy stays calm as a cucumber. You can see how the scales tip and things fall out of kilter. It's not a healthy state of being, not long term. I get the yin-yang thing and yes, we are opposites, so it would naturally fall to being like that. I find comfort in his un-ruffleability. He loves my joie d'vivre. But there are times, when a daddy should be angry, or sad, or furious, or deflated, or down-right miserable. He no likey. I've found also that my emotional expression gets more extreme to compensate for the lack in him, which is terribly unhealthy. It ends up being mommy the crazy-lady, and daddy vanilla, eggshell, beige blob.
So! about teaching your kids emotional range, emotional health, emotional expression, elasticity, compassion and all that lies between the two polls of Nothing and Everything; How you gonna do that ?
A friend of mine blew a gasket and dumped her husband. That was 2 years ago. She'd been married for 14 years. Her parents are still married, but sit as far apart on the sofa as they possibly can. They share a bed. They don't hold hands. I spent Christmas with them, and they didn't exchange gifts. Her mother is mirroring her anxieties and frustration onto her grandchildren because she doesn't have the emotional tools to confront my friend or even just talk about her sadness and disappointment. It's all put into other people. Her father is furious but will not show it or discuss it. On the outside there's nothing to see when you talk to him - he has various hobbies in his retirement, spends an unhealthy amount of time on his iPad looking at crap. He doesn't connect emotionally with the world outside. He is an island. He seems to have a circle of friends, but is it mutual friendship or not (I suppose this is a question many of us ask, even of our "good" friends). His sibling relationship is strained - he has one sister, they don't speak much. it's her fault apparently.
So this is emotional landscape I find myself in. I need a map, or at least a compass.
So it's 7.40am and I'm thinking of Shrek the Halls' take on Clement Clark Moore's poem, which opens with:
"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;..."
Altho it is now the 27th of December, the rest is true. All I can hear is the wind howling outside and the traffic noise starting to build up.
I've been lying awake in bed since 5:15am and thinking about emotional honesty and being real. How hard it is when you are a parent, to teach your children emotional honesty and to give them resilience. I'd say both my family and my in-laws have screwed up emotional worlds, so there isn't a whole lot to work with in the way of role models. I'm somewhere near the back of the queue on emotional expertise, but I would say that 4 3/4 years of therapy has taught me a thing or two.
It's been a big deal trying to get my husband to share the emotional load with me. In his family, no-one talks about how they feel. Feelings are VERY SCAREY!!!! So you don't let them out. Raising children means getting in touch with ALL your feelings - kids don't let you have anything of your own. You wanna go to the toilet, sorry, they're coming too. You wanna freak out? Yep, they're standing right there in front of you a) driving you to it, or b) watching the fall out. Every parent comes face to face with their best and their worst when rearing a child. Last week I felt like a bare-breasted Amazonian, in a corner, with my child in one arm and a sword in the other.
In our relationship, my husband doesn't do strong emotion. Nope, he leaves that to me. It was a small problem that reared its head every now and then, but it's become more of an issue as the kids have grown up. I end up being the 'angry' mommy. I'm the one who has to do the "feeling" while daddy stays calm as a cucumber. You can see how the scales tip and things fall out of kilter. It's not a healthy state of being, not long term. I get the yin-yang thing and yes, we are opposites, so it would naturally fall to being like that. I find comfort in his un-ruffleability. He loves my joie d'vivre. But there are times, when a daddy should be angry, or sad, or furious, or deflated, or down-right miserable. He no likey. I've found also that my emotional expression gets more extreme to compensate for the lack in him, which is terribly unhealthy. It ends up being mommy the crazy-lady, and daddy vanilla, eggshell, beige blob.
So! about teaching your kids emotional range, emotional health, emotional expression, elasticity, compassion and all that lies between the two polls of Nothing and Everything; How you gonna do that ?
A friend of mine blew a gasket and dumped her husband. That was 2 years ago. She'd been married for 14 years. Her parents are still married, but sit as far apart on the sofa as they possibly can. They share a bed. They don't hold hands. I spent Christmas with them, and they didn't exchange gifts. Her mother is mirroring her anxieties and frustration onto her grandchildren because she doesn't have the emotional tools to confront my friend or even just talk about her sadness and disappointment. It's all put into other people. Her father is furious but will not show it or discuss it. On the outside there's nothing to see when you talk to him - he has various hobbies in his retirement, spends an unhealthy amount of time on his iPad looking at crap. He doesn't connect emotionally with the world outside. He is an island. He seems to have a circle of friends, but is it mutual friendship or not (I suppose this is a question many of us ask, even of our "good" friends). His sibling relationship is strained - he has one sister, they don't speak much. it's her fault apparently.
So this is emotional landscape I find myself in. I need a map, or at least a compass.
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