Victories Won and Lost

What happened? I thought we were making progress. I thought we had found the right combination of medicines and that everything would be hunky dorey. That I could almost relate to other parents who are raising typical children. Really, what happened?  This hurts. I almost wish that we would never see progress at all if we’re just going to have it repeatedly snatched away again. It’s like…if I knew from the beginning that Javan would never sleep through the night, never be potty trained, never be comfortable with separation, etc., then I would be able to deal with it because I would have no choice but to accept it. But these victories have all been won. And lost. So. Many. Times. It’s not that I believe they will never be truly conquered…I just wish we didn’t have to conquer them ten million times before we get it right.

These last three days, he’s like a different kid. And I don’t mean that in a good way. He refuses to obey no matter the consequence. He’s being violent and destructive again. Not anywhere near to the degree that he used to be, but still. We had conquered those demons. Or so I thought. And the most frustrating part is, he really doesn’t know why he’s doing it. How can you train someone to change their ways, when their ways have absolutely no rational basis? It’s almost like a reflex. You know, like when the doctor taps your knee with that rubber hammer, and your leg kicks. Only he doesn’t know what his violent and destructive rubber hammer is. And I don’t either. I mean, can you imagine if you were sitting on the examination table at the doctor’s office and your knee kept jerking like that, but the doctor wasn’t even touching you and there was no rubber hammer in sight? And the doctor kept looking at you like you were insane and asking you, “Why are you doing that?” And what if he was sitting right in front of you, and you were kicking him. How frustrating and embarrassing. As I’m writing this, I’m realizing, well, the only thing you could do in that situation is to redirect your kicks. I mean, you obviously can’t stop the reflex from happening, but you can stop it from doing damage or causing pain to others. So, I guess my next step in this process needs to be first teaching him to redirect his aggression and destructive impulses, and next to be watchful for rubber hammers – triggers. He can’t identify them, so I have to.

But, even more troublesome to me than that is the battle with separation anxiety. Wow. It has gotten crazy out of control. I was never under the illusion that we had that one conquered, but it was getting better. He had even gotten to the point where he wanted to spend the night with a grandparent every once in a while. Now we’re back to the banging on the door every time Mom goes to the bathroom and crying every night at bedtime. He tells me all the time, “I just want to be with you every second.” I’m not handling it well anymore. I’m yelling at him and I just want to shake some sense into him. I reassure him that I’m not going anywhere, I’m just going to be in the other room and we’ll be together all day tomorrow. It doesn’t help. He cries and calls out, “I want my Mommy!” And my heart is torn between sympathy and anger. Why won’t the kid just leave me alone? Oh, poor thing is really grieving the temporary loss of his Mommy. Shut up, already, I’m with you all day every day, give me a break! Oh, sweet boy, Mommy loves you so much and I want to comfort you but I have to make you an independent, secure, confident man by the end of all this. Ok, never mind, there’s no way you’ll make it to manhood at this rate, I can’t take it anymore! Well…You get the point. I think he’s making me a little bit bipolar. I have no plan of action for this one. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. We’re not scheduled to see the psychiatrist again for another 10 days…I may see about getting the appointment bumped up for both our sakes.

And, because I realize that this post is unusually negative and depressing, I’m going to end with a cute thing Javan said to me this week…”Mommy, I love you a hundred and a million dollars and fifty cents!” And I love him that much and more, I just feel defeated and frustrated. But I know this too shall pass.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: