Parent of a troubled teen? You are NOT ALONE!

I received a call from an acquaintance yesterday.  She asked where we sent our daughter for treatment.  
My heart immediately sank.  
Although we aren't close with this family, we have known them for a long time.  

I explained to her that we sent HB out of state for therapy because in Washington State, at 13 years of age, a child is responsible for their own medical/mental health choices {Are you serious?!}.  

What that means is that if you send your child to therapy in Washington, and they don't want to stay there, well, 
             they just leave.  
Crazy.  

When we went through this whole process it was  years ago, but it seems like yesterday. 

Our daughter was just 14.  

She ended up going to the alternative school because she was struggling with her peers after making some poor choices.  Now...HB had always had a lot of "friends."  Not necessarily because she was so fun and kind, but because everyone wanted to be her friend rather than NOT be her friend....they were afraid of her.

At the alternative school she met some people that took her even further in the wrong direction.  The drugs started, the disappearing for days on end, the attitude that was even angrier and meaner than before.  

HB had been in counseling since her Dad died.  She has always struggled with depression and anxiety.  Counseling wasn't easy though, because she always felt like she was smarter than most of her therapists.  (Truth is.... in some ways, she was!)  
Remember what I mentioned here about HB being Mensa level gifted?  

Where was I again?  Oh yeah...

I shared where we had sent our daughter, and why we chose each place.  
I shared with her that  during that period of time I felt more alone than I ever had in my life.  
You don't go around telling people that your daughter is strung out and out of control.
  
People judge.  
People shouldn't.
  
I went into a depression during this time that lasted for years.  I wouldn't wish that on anyone.  I let this Mom know that I am here for her to talk to, and that she isn't alone.  

I am a good Mom.  It has taken me a long time to find peace with that.
  
Good parents CAN have troubled teens.  
Bad parents CAN have troubled teens.  

God gave each of us the gift of free will and the choices our teens make are their own.  Hopefully, somewhere deep inside they hear us whispering to them what is right.  

Do you have a struggling teen?  Do you feel like you are alone in this?  You aren't.  We need to unite- to encourage, to support, to pray.
Just like I shared with that mom, I'm here if you need someone to talk to.

{love}

(Oh...and if you happen to know where the photo above came from, please let me know.  I'd love to give credit where credit is due!)

Please don't look at me that way.

I guess I have always been a pretty open minded person.
  
Don't get me wrong, I have my moments of being judgmental, "holier than thou", and moments when I should be tugging at the log in my own eye instead of pointing out the twig in theirs.  
But I have been through a lot in my life and I know that on days when I am not at my best because of some trauma (or drama??) or pain that has presented itself, I appreciate the grace that the smile a person I have been crabby with gives.  

Since my kids were little, when they would complain to me about how mean a teacher had been, or how rude a friend was being, 
I would say, 
                      "Well, maybe their dog died." 

Now you may be asking yourself, why would she say that?  
Let me put it simply for you....
                            Life is hard, and life just happens.  
Yep.  That's all I have for you, but it pretty much sums it up, right?

You never know if that lady that cuts in front of you in line at the store is just distracted because she recently found out she was losing her job, 

or the person that loses their temper with you over something that seems silly has a husband that was just diagnosed with cancer, 

or the teacher that is being short tempered has just had to put her dog to sleep after 15 years...  you just never know.  
                           Life is hard, and life just happens....to all of us.  

I need this grace more than anyone.

             
I am often wrapped up in my own little world, worried and and overwhelmed, just trying to make it through the day.  
I may not notice that I cut in front of you--  I'm sorry.  

I may not even notice you at all.  
                                        I am sorry. 

          
My head is busy trying to rationalize what my heart is feeling, and sometimes that takes all I have.

This is not an excuse for rude people, what it is 
              is an excuse for people that don't mean to be rude.  
We all have our moments, so please, smile at the man that frowns at you, pray for that teacher that has been losing her temper, and try to remember...

                I don't mean to be rude- It's just that  life is hard, and sometimes it just happens.  

---

The Feel of Cancer

Keith with our four children after brain surgery.

No matter how deep you bury it, it never completely goes away.  

I'm not talking about the memories of the person, I'm talking about the memories of the cancer.  

Jess and i went to see a movie last night titled 50/50.  

It started off a little uncomfortably with some foul language and uncomfortable scenes, but then it got really good.  

We laughed, we cried... then we cried some more.

Jessie and I were some of the last to be sitting in the theater after the movie ended, both of us with our eyes still wet, staring straight ahead at the screen.

  

Keith is often in my thoughts.  When I look at one of the kids and see his smile, when I look at Tanner and he is raising his eyebrows just like his dad used to... When I have flashes into the past that  a photo, a place, or a song has sparked.  These are the good thoughts, the good memories...the ones that make you warm, and happy.

Some of the scenes in the movie made me feel like I was right back in the moment... Sitting with Keith when we found out that he had cancer.   

The way the 

                world starts spinning, 

and the words being spoken become muted.

  

The way you walk through your days in a fog, barely feeling, yet feeling it all. And I wasn't the one with cancer- I was just the one who loved the one with cancer.  

My whole world started spinning again as I watched this movie.  

The shaving of the head because having some control over when he lost his hair mattered, the time over the toilet after chemo...wishing there was something I could do to help take away the pain, to take away the sickness...the times when the doctor said, "The treatment isn't working...the cancer is spreading."  These are the bad moments-- the memories you try to bury.

  

You can't explain that feeling to someone who has never experienced it, and you hope they will never know what you don't want to, 

       or can't, 

explain.  

It is a place you wish you could forget that you had been, but you never, ever can.  Especially when you watch movies like this.

I still wonder if it is a good thing or a bad thing to bring those memories to the surface.  Maybe they help me remember how precious life is, how precious the time with my loved ones is.  Or maybe they just take me back to a place I never wanted to visit in the first place... either way, it's time to bury it all again for now...It's just easier that way.

---

What Would I Have Done Differently? (Part One...)

Raising a baby at this time in my life has made me ask that question a lot.

AND THE ANSWER IS...(Drum roll, please!):   
A few BIG things sprinkled with a lot of little things.   

When we bring a child into the world we aren't given a manual, a step-by-step checklist, or a written plan on how to turn that helpless, precious baby into a productive, positive, faith filled adult.  

And if we were given the luxury of such a plan, each child's would be significantly different,  because that's the way God made us-- all different.  (Why, Oh Why, couldn't it be simple??) 

Having raised all of our kids so far into their teenage years I am able to look back and see the positive (and sometimes negative) results of my parenting choices. 

I don't have enough time, nor enough courage, to lay it all out right here and now, but this is what I will share...

I would take care of ME more.  
Now I know that sounds self-centered, and you are thinking, How could that possibly make life better for a child you are raising?  Let me tell you- It makes life better for everyone!

In the process of taking care of my family, I forgot to take care of me.  

Selfless, loving, giving...  All of the things I thought I was being.  Exhausted, impatient, and sometimes bitter were what I had become.
  

What do I mean by taking care of me?  I mean taking time for myself...time to exercise, time to be alone, time to be with friends, time (and money) to get my hair or nails done... I always put myself last.  
Isn't that what any good Mom would do?  
                      Nope.  I know that now.

The healthier I am spiritually, physically, emotionally, and mentally- the better Mom I am.  This doesn't mean that I spend most of my day at the spa or at the gym.  
It means that I TRY to schedule time for me....sometimes...instead of never.

Expect More.   
I guess you could say I felt sorry for my kids.  I mean, they watched their Dad battle brain cancer for 5 years, only to lose him at a young age.  Throw some ADD, Anxiety, and Learning Disabilities into the mix and, well, it left me wanting to make life easier for them sometimes.  

BAD MISTAKE.

If our parents have high expectations for us that are placed with love, we tend grow into them.  If our parents have low expectations of us,  we tend to settle for good enough.   At times I set my expectations for my kids too low, mostly because I didn't want them to ever feel like they had failed me, or that they weren't good enough.  

I wish in more situations I had pushed them to not just settle for good enough, but instead to push the limit.

That's all the confession you get from me today! I take comfort in knowing that God knew my heart during those years, as He still does now, and that I did and continue to place my children at His feet through prayer.  We all do the best we can based on what we know.  

Oh, if I only knew then 
                                   what I think I know now... 

Detached...not Disowned.

I have really struggled with the personal line I have had to draw with my daughter in order to take myself to a healthier place.

The last 5 1/2 years with her have taken me through every possible emotion a person can have, 
          from guilt and sadness, 
                         to anger and resentment.  
I was not only mentally exhausted, but physically and psychologically spent.

I couldn't sleep at night because I was either up worrying about her or I was up "dealing" with her and whatever situation she had gotten herself into.  
Even when I would finally fall asleep, my last thought would be of her and as soon as my eyes started to open, my first thoughts...of her.  

All of this not only took it's toll on me, but on my family. 
You know that old saying, 
        "If Momma aint happy, aint nobody happy?"            
Well, it's true.  
Not only did my family have to deal with everything my daughter brought to the table, but they had to deal with me as well.  I fell into a depression.  
My body ached, my head hurt, and my heart was broken.  

When I look back now I can see that I was grieving.

I had  dealt with the loss of my late husband of 14 years, so I was no stranger to grief.  I just didn't realize it when I was in the middle of it with HB.  
You see, I was grieving the loss of my baby girl.  
Not only once, but over 
                             and over.  
Every time she showed up with bruises all over her body, hand prints on her neck...every time she disappeared for days at a time, I grieved.  

Every time she stole from us or lied to us, 
every time I saw her making positive choices and then sabotage herself, I grieved.  
Hope, then disappointment.... over and over again.  

The fact that she was so young when all of this started made a huge impact in how we handled things.  You can't turn your back on a 14 year old.  You do everything you can to help them until you realize there is nothing else you can do-- That they are old enough to make their own choices. 

There was a moment for me when I realized that I had hit that spot.  I had nothing left to give- Physically, emotionally, mentally and financially I was empty.

Every time we did something for HB, hoping that it would help take her forward, she only continued to move backward.  
(Lesson learned after way too many "somethings!")  

I wasn't even able to listen to her anymore.  
Every time she opened her mouth I expected a lie to come out.  
I couldn't look at her, either.  
Every time I had to be in the same room with her, I felt sick to my stomach.  The emotions that welled up inside of me were so intense, so overwhelming that I actually got 
                               physically ill.  
And then to top it all off, I felt guilty because i actually felt like this around my own daughter. 

The only way I could survive was to detach.  
Completely.  
I didn't care, no, couldn't care, where she was living-- whether it was safe or clean.  
I couldn't care how she was going to get home from wherever she had gotten herself stranded.  
I couldn't care whether she was staying sober or not.  
None of it was  mine to care about-- it was hers.  
I had spent too much time caring about what was going on with HB.   It was time to care about myself and the rest of my family.... to care about Willow.  I couldn't do both.
  
Detach.  

Now, not everyone understood my position.  "You are her mother... You can't just turn your back on her!"  "You are all she has."  
They had never walked where I had walked.  This wasn't about Hannah.  Did they not see that?  It was about me.... finally.  
In order to take care of my family and Wee one like I want to, like I am SUPPOSED to, I had to take care of me.  That meant , yes, I'll say it again, DETACHING.

I did not disown her.  She is my daughter, and she will always be my daughter.  What I did disown was her life.  Now when she was younger, her life was in my hands.  She was my responsibility.  
        She is not a little girl anymore.  
She is responsible for her own life, and for each choice she makes in it.  I understand it when I say it, and I am reminded again when I write it, but it doesn't mean that I don't have moments of guilt feeling like I have turned my back on her. 
And, just in case you are still wondering, I haven't.

What I have done is turned around to look at what I have neglected for so long... the road forward... and I am not letting her keep me from it any more...  
It just so happens that she is behind me.  My hope is that someday she will be walking that same road moving forward with me, but that is up to her, not me.  
She will always know where to find me...praying for her, loving her, and on the path moving forward.

I dropped her off at treatment yesterday and they gave me a copy of this poem.  This sums up what I shared above.  
I guess maybe I didn't detach or disown... I just "Let Go."

TO LET GO...
To let go does not mean to stop caring,
   it means I can't do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
   it's the realization I can't control another.
To let go is not to enable,
   but allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means
   the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
   it's to make the most of myself.
To let go is not to care for,
   but to care about.
To let go is not to fix,
   but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
   but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
   but to allow others to affect their destinies.
To let go is not to be protective,
   it's to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
   but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
   but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
   but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.
To let go is not to criticize or regulate anybody,
   but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
   but to grow and live for the future.
To let go is to fear less and love more
       and
To let go and to let God, is to find peace.
 -- Author Unknown


Photo courtesy of: www.freedigitalphotos.net

Winnie the Pooh

I know, I know.  I keep telling myself the same thing.  
It's just Winnie the Pooh... Why get so worked up about it?      Because it's Winnie the Pooh.... that's why.  

Willow and I have a nighttime routine.  
I run the bath water while  she runs around the bathroom naked tearing the towels off the shelf.   I give her her bath and float her around on her back while she makes fishy faces pretending she is a fish.  
When bath fun is over, she is dried and wrapped up in her butterfly towel and we sit on the edge of the tub while I dry her hair with the hairdryer and she brushes her eat.  Yes, I know, I said eat-- for some reason that is what she calls "teeth."  
It does make sense I guess--teeth...eat.  (Don't worry!  I am getting to the Pooh part!!) 

When we are done upstairs with bath and eat, we head down to where Papa has her jammies, socks and diaper waiting.  
We rub lotion all over, put a clean diaper on and then jammies.  Wee one runs around a bit, plays with everyone, and then I tell her it is night-night time.  
She walks around saying "bye" to everyone and blows them kisses.   
We head upstairs with blankies (one and two)  and bottle in hand, and cuddle up on my bed-- and this is where Pooh comes in. 

I usually let her pick her bedtime story and 90% of the time, yep, you guessed!  It's a Winnie the Pooh story.  

Willow will lie in my arms and listen as she drinks her bottle, following the story with her eyes until they begin to slowly close.  Soon her bottle is gone and the book is finished.  

She opens her eyes and usually makes goofy faces at me on our way to her bed.  This is so cute because she is barely awake, but feels the need to send me on my way with a smile!  We say our goodnight prayers during that little walk,  I kiss her Wee little forehead, place her in her crib and tell her to sleep like an angel and that Grammie loves her. 

You see, Pooh is ours.  Her BM asked if I would not take Willow to see the new Winnie the Pooh movie until she got out of treatment because she wanted to take her.  She hasn't put Willow to bed in 10 months, and she doesn't know any of what I shared with you about mine and Wee ones Pooh time.  
Nor has she ever read a Winnie the Pooh story to her.... 
so therefore, I ask you, am I silly being so worked up about this?  

It's okay-- Hit me with the truth.  I can take it.... well, maybe.

 "Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart." - Winnie the Pooh

Where are you God?

Willow's first time on the Merry-go-Round!

I am a Christian.   I have been for over 20 years.  I have asked God so many times in this journey where He was.  "Help me, God!  I am so overwhelmed with anger, pain, and fear...I can't see you, hear you, or feel you!"  Then He gently reminds me. 

Wee one looks at me with those big brown eyes, letting me know she feels safe and loved, as I rock her to sleep.  "Yes, God.  I see you."  Rolling around on the carpet, tickling wee one as she giggles and giggles.  "Okay, God...I hear you."  Outside, wee one puts up her hand and grabs my finger.   We walk together with the wind blowing through our hair, the sun shining on our faces, finger in hand, and there is peace.  "Yes, God.  I feel you."

When I am focused on myself, I can't see, hear, or feel God as I long to.  When I focus on the situation we are in, rather than living in the moment, I am lost, and continue to move in circles,   
                                                 going nowhere,   
because I can't see where I am going.  How is that fair to Willow?  How is that fair to the rest of my family?  It isn't. 

I will choose joy.  I will choose peace.  I will choose love.  

Unfortunately, I forget what the right choice is sometimes and start moving in those circles again, 

       round and round, guilt and anger, 

              round and round, fear and pain... until I am so 

                                                                               dizzy 

                                                                                 I fall down.  

That is when I reach my hands up and always find Him waiting for me. 

Ohhh, Momma

I love it when she says that.
It is usually when she is hurt or scared.  She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and in her Wee little voice says, "Ohhh, Momma?"  as if she is asking if it is going to be okay.
My       heart       melts.  
Yes, Willow, it is going to be okay.  
                     I will make sure of it.  

It is getting easier when she calls me Momma.  
At first I had twinges of guilt every time she said it.  I am not her Momma- I am her Grandmother!  But that twinge is gone now.
  
I have always called myself Grammie when talking to her.  Everyone else does the same--- "Go give that to Grammie..."  
               yet she still calls me Momma.  
Wee one still calls her real Mother Momma, too.  Maybe to her it is just a name.  She hears her aunts and uncles call me Mom, so maybe she thinks that's just who I am-- Mom. 

I am sure that the day will come when she will look up at me with those same big eyes, and in her Wee little voice say, 
"Ohhhh, Grammie?"  and that will be okay, 
but for today, 
             I am Momma.