Brain Drain, Part II

I described my "aha moment" in a previous posting about brain drain (see brain drain).

I have since acquired the book that was recommended by our attachment therapist and been actively using the techniques.

I don't know if our recent leap forward has to do with the fact that T is no longer perceiving me as "not strong" and him therefore "not safe" as a result of the repetitive and inane questions dance that was going on, but no longer is, if spending two weeks cocooning with us -- no school and no daycare brought him closer to us, or if just by virtue of time -- home with us nearly three years now -- he was ready to move forward, or if it has been a combination of all three, but he has unquestionably made a huge step forward in progress toward fuller attachment.

I wanted to revisit brain drain though, because I think it's one of those things that appears in different forms for different families and there is no "one size fits all" solution. For some families, it manifests as the same question asked over and over and over again. For us, it is different, and since my first post, I've heard of at least one other family who experiences it like us.

In our case, it is more typically a question that morphs. We start at Point A and the answer is argued with or the question re-asked slightly differently, or built upon, so that we get to Point B -- at which time T thinks he has "won" because the answer to A is not the same as the answer to B -- and believe me, he views life in win and lose terms -- and when he feels he has mentally bested me, he thinks he is stronger than me, and therefore he feels vulnerable. This escalates the behavior. It is like descending into a labyrinth. We circle further and further in until there is no way out. Consistently stopping the behavior before we enter that maze has led to a dramatic decrease in brain drain behavior.

But it cropped up yesterday, probably -- and here is where we drive ourselves nuts, always trying to figure out what triggered the behavior -- because his sisters were here with us this weekend and my niece and nephew were due to spend the day, and according to initial plans, the night with us. I can hear the roar of the brain engine revving just thinking about that.

He had skating lessons, so I brought him over to the rink and spent the weekly bucket of sweat getting his skates on and laced up. As I was working on the first skate, I mentioned that next weekend is his last week of skating lessons for the year. "Wow, that went fast!" he said.

I agreed that it did, and said probably because this session he had a few lessons before Christmas and then three after, with a week off in the middle, so these last three lessons seemed like a short time.

He pondered briefly, and then asked, "Is it because of my party? Because I missed one lesson for my party?"

Me: You did miss one lesson for your party, but that was in the first session. You missed the first day of the second session because I couldn't get over here to sign you up because I was too busy at work.
T: You sign me up?
Me: Yes, I come over here and go upstairs to the office and give them your name....
T (interrupting): You give them my name?
Me: Yes, I have to give them your name so they know to sign you up.
T (heading into the labyrinth): Sign me up for what?
Me: What do you think?
T: I don't know.
Me (attempting the humor approach, since swimming happens 20 miles away): Swimming? (with a laugh)
T: Well, yeah at swimming you have to tell them my name because they always call me (mispronounces name).
Me: Yeah, that's a problem, but do you think I sign you up for swimming lessons HERE?
T: No.
Me: Okay, what then?
T: I don't know.
Me (again, with a laugh): Soccer?
T: No, I don't play soccer here.
Me: Well, what do you think I come to this building to sign you up for?
T: Skating?
Me: Yep, you got it! I knew you would figure it out!
T: Well, how was I supposed to know we were talking about skating?!

This child is exceptionally bright. Exceptionally. He knew perfectly well that we were talking about skating. He was trying to get me into the labyrinth. Jim and Charles Fay, authors of Love and Logic Magic: When Kids Leave You Speechless describe it as "the child leading the parents off on a variety of 'bird walks.'"

I don't mean that when he does it, he's doing it in a nefarious way. It's just a need that he has to constantly test whether or not he's safe. And my response needs to be strong. To show that I am strong and that he is safe.

The Fays warn that the intent of the brain drain responses is not to get even with our children, or to put them in their place, but rather to let them know we love them too much to argue or back down. Among other things, the brain drain techniques are designed to help kids feel good about themselves and leave them with a healthy sense of control. I think "healthy" is the salient word for our kids. Our kids who want to control everything in a desperate bid to feel safe, and who end up feeling less safe in the long run.

I know that to most people in the adoption community, it seems harsh to walk away from our children. The one thing that's drilled into our heads is that we should do nothing to make our children feel abandoned again. "Time in" is stressed. But each child is unique, and in our case, if I hang around, I'm bait for more arguing and bird walks, when what I am trying to do is end the arguing and negative engaging. "Never let a manipulating child see you sweat," say the Fays. By walking off to engage in another activity, I'm doing just that. If I stay in the situation, I am fair game for more brain drain, and I know my limitations. Eventually I will break. Putting an end to it is the most loving thing I can do. It is mommy time-out. Sometimes we have to save ourselves before we can save our children. The old oxygen mask on the airplane analogy.

So I am following the recommendations of having brief conversations where I go "brain dead" repeating the same thing -- typically either that he is a smart boy and I bet if he thinks about it for a day he can figure it out for a himself, or just asking him what he thinks. And then, as the Fays and our attachment therapist recommend, in our case, I have to walk away. Or turn up the radio if we are in the car. "I love you too much to argue about this."

I don't walk far, just far enough for him to know that there is no more room for discussion. I leave the living room and walk into the kitchen. Or walk from one end of the room to another. Or just turn my back right there and busy myself with another task. If he comes back with the answer, he gets a big  hug and lots of praise. Generally it gets dropped and within a minute or two we are able to initiate a more positive interaction.

My only expertise in attachment is by having walked through the fire and by trial and error figuring out what works for us and what doesn't. And as part of that expertise, what I can say is that what works for us may not work for you. Or what works for you may not work for us. But I throw out there what I've come across in case it helps someone else, because one thing I know for sure is that if we are struggling with something, we are not alone. That is the one constant.

When I started using the brain drain techniques, I couldn't believe how many times in a day I had to say, "You're a smart boy. I bet if you think about it long enough, you'll figure it out. If you still don't know by tomorrow, let me know and I'll give you the answer then." It seemed like it was every other sentence out of my mouth. But one thing the authors caution about is Not.Giving.Up. "A common parenting myth is that if a child's behavior gets worse after using a technique, the technique isn't working." So I continued to go brain dead and repeat that line again and again and again. Because, as the authors warn, if you do stop, it send the a strong message: "If my parents try something I don't like, all I have to do is get a little nastier. Then they'll back down! I guess the way you get the things you want in life is by being nasty."

One day about a month into our brain drain techniques, I realized we were rarely doing verbal dances. The bird walks were mostly gone. Are things perfect? Based on yesterday's skating interaction, no. Do I think there will ever be a time when we experience zero brain drain? I have nine years of stepmothering under my belt. I can say with a knowing laugh: absolutely not.

But we're doing much better. Much, much better. There is a sense of peace where before I dreaded the constant conflict.

What a kid I have! I'm so lucky to be his mom. It's wonderful watching him be a happy kid. Just wonderful.