Delayed grief
I didn't mention it earlier, but we have passed the three year anniversaries of Y. and R. being part of our family this past month. I'm finding January to be a little tricky to navigate personally, and it seems that this is true for R. as well.
I've written before about traumaversaries being a very real thing, with physical and emotional feelings which do not seem to make sense with what is currently being experienced. It's seems the lack of sunlight, the proximity to the anniversary of my father's death which happened after Christmas, and the adoption of our two new girls, particularly R. just a couple of week later, and the unexpected death of our dog just a few weeks after that, January abounds in messy memories. I think it's one of the reasons I have dived into a mass of making things. I find it therapeutic.
R. does not have the same self-awareness or ability for self care. In fact, this is the first year we've seen an uptick in grief. I might even make the case that this is the first true grief that we have seen. It is as though, three years late, she is finally realizing exactly what has happened. For the past three or so weeks we have been managing near psychotic levels of anxiety coupled with a deep need to go back to China. As far as R. is concerned, this little vacation has finally lasted long enough, and she's ready to go back home.
While this is difficult enough in a child with normal levels of reasoning, trying to navigate this with a child with a significant intellectual disability is near impossible. She has argued with us that we are not her parents. She has argued with us that everyone in China is expecting her back. She has argued with us that we are not her parents because the very nice woman who provided respite care (who is most definitely not her mother) is her mother. Over and over and over and over.
Yesterday was pretty hideous. Finally, after some pretty extreme behavior resulting in me bringing her into my bedroom and shutting the door to stop her from following around her siblings and shrieking and hitting them. (Bringing her into a closed room did not stop the shrieking, but at least it was just me who had to deal with it.) I finally asked her if she thought that is she misbehaved enough we would send her back to China. Of course, this is not a question she could answer, but I explained that she is here... forever. No matter how she behaves, and that we love her regardless. Her response was to repeat no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I finally picked her up in my arms like a baby, at which point she started sobbing. Deep, genuine, gut-wrenching sobs. I'm pretty sure it was the first real emotion we have seen from her since we've known her.
And I'm also sure that we will need to replay that little scene for another one thousand times before it sticks. It's a little like living with someone with dementia who has to find out a spouse has died repeatedly because the memory won't stick. It feels like endless, unresolvable grief at this point.
R.'s inability to really grasp what had happened to her (and we knew she didn't grasp it) does explain her ongoing attachment issues and indiscriminate affection a little better. Why attach if you aren't going to stay? Why not look for a perceived better living situation? Why try... well, anything... if it's all just going to go away again?
So here we are, three years later, at ground zero. Grief at leaving friends and perceived parents coupled with a deep insecurity about the current situation. Maybe after the next three years we can begin to make some real progress.
I've written before about traumaversaries being a very real thing, with physical and emotional feelings which do not seem to make sense with what is currently being experienced. It's seems the lack of sunlight, the proximity to the anniversary of my father's death which happened after Christmas, and the adoption of our two new girls, particularly R. just a couple of week later, and the unexpected death of our dog just a few weeks after that, January abounds in messy memories. I think it's one of the reasons I have dived into a mass of making things. I find it therapeutic.
R. does not have the same self-awareness or ability for self care. In fact, this is the first year we've seen an uptick in grief. I might even make the case that this is the first true grief that we have seen. It is as though, three years late, she is finally realizing exactly what has happened. For the past three or so weeks we have been managing near psychotic levels of anxiety coupled with a deep need to go back to China. As far as R. is concerned, this little vacation has finally lasted long enough, and she's ready to go back home.
While this is difficult enough in a child with normal levels of reasoning, trying to navigate this with a child with a significant intellectual disability is near impossible. She has argued with us that we are not her parents. She has argued with us that everyone in China is expecting her back. She has argued with us that we are not her parents because the very nice woman who provided respite care (who is most definitely not her mother) is her mother. Over and over and over and over.
Yesterday was pretty hideous. Finally, after some pretty extreme behavior resulting in me bringing her into my bedroom and shutting the door to stop her from following around her siblings and shrieking and hitting them. (Bringing her into a closed room did not stop the shrieking, but at least it was just me who had to deal with it.) I finally asked her if she thought that is she misbehaved enough we would send her back to China. Of course, this is not a question she could answer, but I explained that she is here... forever. No matter how she behaves, and that we love her regardless. Her response was to repeat no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I finally picked her up in my arms like a baby, at which point she started sobbing. Deep, genuine, gut-wrenching sobs. I'm pretty sure it was the first real emotion we have seen from her since we've known her.
And I'm also sure that we will need to replay that little scene for another one thousand times before it sticks. It's a little like living with someone with dementia who has to find out a spouse has died repeatedly because the memory won't stick. It feels like endless, unresolvable grief at this point.
R.'s inability to really grasp what had happened to her (and we knew she didn't grasp it) does explain her ongoing attachment issues and indiscriminate affection a little better. Why attach if you aren't going to stay? Why not look for a perceived better living situation? Why try... well, anything... if it's all just going to go away again?
So here we are, three years later, at ground zero. Grief at leaving friends and perceived parents coupled with a deep insecurity about the current situation. Maybe after the next three years we can begin to make some real progress.
Comments