caroline marie's Open Salon Blog

Trauma Blooms

Tue, 7 May 2013 22:05:20 -0400

Spring is coming late here...no leaves on the trees yet, but at least the snow is gone, well mostly, except for the slowly shrinking pile in the shade next to the parking ramp.

The trauma under my skin is slowly shrinking too, as peacefulness slowly wraps itself around my home, for now. Today, I summarized my daughter's rage episodes for a new therapist, who exclaimed, "No wonder you're exhausted!" even though its been a month of calm. Trauma is seeping out in edginess, fears, and the desire for a nap.

And now we're in the tunnel of teenagehood, where you can't see beyond the thrill of the moment and you declare your vulnerabilities on a public Facebook page as your poor mother wrings her hands worrying about sexual predators.

Today's news is not helping.

Not to mention, if Facebook existed when I was teenager, I would be writing this post from a small hut in the woods, unable to ever show my face, get a job, etc.

I want to protect my daughter, I am afraid of my daughter and I am trying to find my way back to myself to hold onto even after her rages return, which they will.

Spring is tentatively here, and my nighttime dreams are vividly filled with all the characters of my daughter's past, the ones who caused her trauma, which caused my trauma. What will bloom from the scar tissue? Can we thrive before the heat of summer becomes too intense, and we find ourselves once again longing for slowly shrinking piles of snow...

Congratulations! I Have Written 125 Posts!

Sun, 5 May 2013 02:05:49 -0400

I have written 125 posts since I started this blog in January 2010. The more recent ones are focused on parenting a traumatized kid (and being traumatized by the traumatized kid) but before that

I used to write dark fairy tales, remember? And poems and essays. I like going back and reading the older posts, reminding myself that I can write. (and the reader's comments are fantastic - so insightful and encouraging.)

I started this blog to try out new memoir-based stories and get myself back into the creative groove. Some of it turned out pretty good, I think. Then....my world took a turn: one child died and another child lost her mind. This blog became a place to vent, record, wallow. Those posts make me sound like a lunatic or are a touch too melancholic. Some I deleted.

So, what should I do with this blog now?

The site doesn't let new readers comment, and many of the old readers don't come by much anymore.

I have 125 posts: Some I'd like to tweak and publish for a larger audience. Some are too personal and revealing of people in my life and should remain anonymous. Some might be interesting only for a small targeted group: parents who adopted older children. And some posts, to be honest, help me feel more understood by my real life friends.

I have good reasons to blog anonymously but I am also thinking about creating a website with my real name and maybe some posts from here...I don't know.

If you're a new reader, I recommend starting at the oldest posts - or at least the middle - before I became too depressed and boring. The left column under "My Links" has a categorized list of the posts I'd like to highlight.

If you're a longtime reader, thanks for sticking around. Any suggestions on where to go from here?

How Not To Surprise Your Newly Adopted Child

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 12:04:41 -0400

Two months before her 8th birthday, Penny rode on a plane for the very first time. She was traveling with her social worker and all of her worldly possessions in a carry-on suitcase. She flew across the country from a warm, sunny climate and into the frigid cold. I was waiting for her at the destination airport because even though we had met only once we were about to become a family.

It was a hard transition for both of us, but especially for her.

Penny was the star of her new first grade classroom and quickly made enough friends to have a big birthday party. I bought her MANY birthday presents, for reasons you can imagine, and she opened them in the morning before school. But they didn't seem like enough, so I bought her one more big present before the party and hid it in the trunk of my car. It was huge and wrapped up in shiny paper with a card attached and Penny's eyes lit up when she saw it.

"Who is it from?!"

"It's a surprise."

We walked into the party room where all of the guests soon gathered, and the huge present from the trunk was the first one Penny wanted to open. She went straight for the card and opened it and then her expression melted right off of her face and I instantly realized my terrible mistake.

Penny thought the birthday present was from her mom. The mommy who had taken care of her and loved her for the first six years of her life and then left without saying goodbye. I realized this when I saw Penny's eyes.

I would sell my soul for the chance to go back in time when we walked to my trunk so that I could say to Penny "I got you another present." I would say it even before I opened the trunk, so she would know what to expect and from whom.

But time travel is not possible.

The building anticipation of opening a gift from her loved and missing mommy instantly dissolved into bitterness. She didn't even want to open the present anymore but there was an audience and she had no choice. She opened it, tossed it aside, then opened the others and tossed them aside, all with the same tight expression on her face.

She looks miserable in all of the photographs from that party.

Every gift she has ever received from me since then has a big card attached with FROM CAROLINE written right on the envelope.

I don't want to surprise Penny ever again.

Here Comes Another Damn Snowstorm

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 15:04:56 -0400

The last few weeks my thoughts have been in a very dark place. I have calculated the reasons to be:

50% constant snow storms long after leaves and grass and flowers should have emerged

25% genetic serotonin deficiency

25% recovering from stress and trauma of Penny's stress and trauma of her anticipated re-union with her immediate family

So I started taking 5HTP and the first effect was that I began to imagine my death - fantasizing about it really. Then my brain adjusted to the fresh burst of biochemicals, and I remembered that I love life and more importantly that I love the people in my life.

Can you imagine being on the other side and seeing your little girl suffering and not being able to reach out and do something about it?

Yet, my little girl is always suffering and I am alive now and sometimes I don't reach out and do something about it. Especially when my brain is trapped in the dark place.

I forget that the sun is always there even when we can't see it and that it will be visible again and shine on us and expect absolutely nothing in return.

When the sun returns, my past painful mistakes dissolve into the evolved me - the better person that I couldn't be today if I hadn't sometimes made some dumbass choices.

I don't know why I was born so unevolved, why my journey to becoming a better, more loving person seems a much longer, more uphill battle than that of all the lovely, kind humans around me but I keep trying to move forward, becoming more self-aware, patient and kind

and grateful even for the sun that I can't see while looking out at all these giant fucked-up piles of dirty snow.

The Last Easter?

Mon, 1 Apr 2013 00:04:58 -0400

I want to write about this day because it was a good one.

Easter is fun when you have a kid who still wants you to hide candy around the house. I also get to fill a basket with pretty springtime girly things. I like to make her holidays special. We go to a church that puts on a little festival with giant wolf and buffalo puppets and real live chicks and bunnies, but sadly no lambs or goats this year. We love goats.

Then we spent the whole day with wonderful friends - watching the Wizard of Oz, playing games and eating polish food and treats.

I appreciate having a kid during the holidays. I always wonder, "Is this our last one?" And then another one comes, and I make her smile and it feels good.

Tomorrow is just a regular day. I have so many errands, things that have to get done. And my kid will go back to being a teenager.

(and butter will just be a regular rectangle)

Marking the seasons with special celebrations is so important to me now that it is hard to believe that when I was a pre-parent 7 years ago and earlier, I let most of them pass by un-noticed.