Trauma Mama Daily Affirmation Day 15
I will not get sucked in by my son's trauma-based mental and verbal games.
Kids from hard places desperately fear having someone be in charge of them. They lived that before, and that person betrayed their trust, whether through abuse, abandonment, or neglect.
One way this comes out is through brain drain. Brain drain is a particularly frustrating form of mental gymnastics designed for the child to come out on top. They will grab whatever loophole in what you are saying they can seize upon as an "Aha! You're wrong!" moment.
For instance, if you say, "It's not safe to do handstands on the couch. We do handstands outside," your child may retort, "NOT ON THE PAVEMENT!!!"
The natural reaction is to say, "Who said anything about pavement?"
Or your child sets traps for you. This is when trying to have conversations with your child can be exceptionally frustrating, because they are not conversations, but lairs they are luring you into. "Is Walking in Circles my age?" You think about it, consider that they both have January birthdays, and that it is now February. So you respond, "Yep, you're the same age."
"WALKING IN CIRCLES' BIRTHDAY IS JANUARY 10TH! MY BIRTHDAY IS JANUARY 30TH!" your child shouts at your with utter disdain, letting you know in no uncertain terms how incredibly stupid you must be. The natural reaction is to launch into an explanation about how since they are both seven, and their birthdays are only two weeks apart, they are indeed the same age. "Is seven the same number as seven?" you might shout back so loudly that your throat is sore for 24 hours.
Or your child informs you that you gave him Fig Newmans for snack every single day last week. When of course you did not. The natural reaction is to say, "No I didn't; I have you a clementine one day, and blackberries twice, so at most you had Fig Newmans twice.
But you disappear down the rabbit hole as soon as you engage. In that rabbit hole is your child's alternate Alice in Wonderland reality world. And that alternate reality is real for him. It's as surreal for us as a grinning Cheshire cat or croquet where the balls are live hedgehogs, but real for him.
I've tried, "I love you too much to argue with you," in the past, but my child is particularly determined to keep the conversation going. Insisting on a response. Insisting on keeping the dialogue going. He's like a dog on a bone with that. "I ASKED you (fill in the blank!)"
So now we're going to take a different approach.
For instance, in the handstand example, "I'm so glad you feel safe enough with me to let me know that."
Or if I am driving, and my child is using the trapped in the car with him time to lure me into his rabbit hole trap about whether he's the same age as another child, do what our dads all did. Pull safely off the road -- never on the highway, find a parking lot or side street -- and turn off the car. "It's really hard to let me be in charge of you, isn't it?"
Because this is what all that is about. It is really hard for them to let us be in charge of them.
If he is completely off the deep end, insisting something is not what it is -- such as me giving him Fig Newmans every single day for an entire school week --again, a conversation that begins with, "Wow, it must be so scary for you for me to be in charge of you."
These conversations name the problem. Our kids will find it very hard to admit to fear, but we can name it for them whenever we see it, with the hope that eventually they begin to recognize the difference between angry, sad, and afraid. And maybe someday will begin to talk about yet. The day they can say, "Yes, I'm scared sometimes that bad things will happen to me again," or "I'm scared I will never see my old family again," is the day you know they have begun to trust you to be a safe person for them.
We've tried a zillion brain drain reduction techniques over the past two years. With pretty much zero success. Well once, I thought we'd put it to rest, but it re-emerged I don't even know when. I just know that we spend our days locked in battle, as much as I try to disengage from the battles.
So now I am going to stop trying to correct him, "There is NO WAY I would give you Fig Newmans five days in a row," and start naming the accusations and arguments as fear. "I'm so glad you feel safe enough to let me know I gave you Fig Newmans every single day last week. Tell me how you felt about that."
We'll see what he can do with that. His brain never stops working, so I'm betting on him figuring his way out of the tavern puzzle this will be for him. But in theory, it will stop him from feeling the need to one-up me to be higher in the family hierarchy.
"I'm so glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. It must be really scary for you for me to be in charge of you."
Kids from hard places desperately fear having someone be in charge of them. They lived that before, and that person betrayed their trust, whether through abuse, abandonment, or neglect.
One way this comes out is through brain drain. Brain drain is a particularly frustrating form of mental gymnastics designed for the child to come out on top. They will grab whatever loophole in what you are saying they can seize upon as an "Aha! You're wrong!" moment.
For instance, if you say, "It's not safe to do handstands on the couch. We do handstands outside," your child may retort, "NOT ON THE PAVEMENT!!!"
The natural reaction is to say, "Who said anything about pavement?"
Or your child sets traps for you. This is when trying to have conversations with your child can be exceptionally frustrating, because they are not conversations, but lairs they are luring you into. "Is Walking in Circles my age?" You think about it, consider that they both have January birthdays, and that it is now February. So you respond, "Yep, you're the same age."
"WALKING IN CIRCLES' BIRTHDAY IS JANUARY 10TH! MY BIRTHDAY IS JANUARY 30TH!" your child shouts at your with utter disdain, letting you know in no uncertain terms how incredibly stupid you must be. The natural reaction is to launch into an explanation about how since they are both seven, and their birthdays are only two weeks apart, they are indeed the same age. "Is seven the same number as seven?" you might shout back so loudly that your throat is sore for 24 hours.
Or your child informs you that you gave him Fig Newmans for snack every single day last week. When of course you did not. The natural reaction is to say, "No I didn't; I have you a clementine one day, and blackberries twice, so at most you had Fig Newmans twice.
But you disappear down the rabbit hole as soon as you engage. In that rabbit hole is your child's alternate Alice in Wonderland reality world. And that alternate reality is real for him. It's as surreal for us as a grinning Cheshire cat or croquet where the balls are live hedgehogs, but real for him.
I've tried, "I love you too much to argue with you," in the past, but my child is particularly determined to keep the conversation going. Insisting on a response. Insisting on keeping the dialogue going. He's like a dog on a bone with that. "I ASKED you (fill in the blank!)"
So now we're going to take a different approach.
For instance, in the handstand example, "I'm so glad you feel safe enough with me to let me know that."
Or if I am driving, and my child is using the trapped in the car with him time to lure me into his rabbit hole trap about whether he's the same age as another child, do what our dads all did. Pull safely off the road -- never on the highway, find a parking lot or side street -- and turn off the car. "It's really hard to let me be in charge of you, isn't it?"
Because this is what all that is about. It is really hard for them to let us be in charge of them.
If he is completely off the deep end, insisting something is not what it is -- such as me giving him Fig Newmans every single day for an entire school week --again, a conversation that begins with, "Wow, it must be so scary for you for me to be in charge of you."
These conversations name the problem. Our kids will find it very hard to admit to fear, but we can name it for them whenever we see it, with the hope that eventually they begin to recognize the difference between angry, sad, and afraid. And maybe someday will begin to talk about yet. The day they can say, "Yes, I'm scared sometimes that bad things will happen to me again," or "I'm scared I will never see my old family again," is the day you know they have begun to trust you to be a safe person for them.
We've tried a zillion brain drain reduction techniques over the past two years. With pretty much zero success. Well once, I thought we'd put it to rest, but it re-emerged I don't even know when. I just know that we spend our days locked in battle, as much as I try to disengage from the battles.
So now I am going to stop trying to correct him, "There is NO WAY I would give you Fig Newmans five days in a row," and start naming the accusations and arguments as fear. "I'm so glad you feel safe enough to let me know I gave you Fig Newmans every single day last week. Tell me how you felt about that."
We'll see what he can do with that. His brain never stops working, so I'm betting on him figuring his way out of the tavern puzzle this will be for him. But in theory, it will stop him from feeling the need to one-up me to be higher in the family hierarchy.
"I'm so glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. It must be really scary for you for me to be in charge of you."
I like it! I think I will try that - though I mostly have a child who doesn't say anything at all, I think we have to get to the honesty part first, still this could be a safety and trust building phrase for all my kiddos. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteOh, I know just what you are talking about, and I need to try this. I have been saying, "I can be trusted to take care of you, so we don't need to argue" but I think your way is better. Because obviously she can't trust me to be the mom, and that's the problem.
ReplyDelete