Originally posted March 27, 2011
It was not pretty. It was very old school. Retro RAD, if you will.
The worst of it was contained to about an hour. I will say this, it has been a few months since the neighbors got a show. As soon as I saw “the face” and the shut down, I said, “Grab your shoes!” and I started doing a clapping cadence thing (I have no idea what it was exactly – old drum cadences they used to play in band when I was in high school – just trying to think on my feet and be silly). I marched along as my kid very slowly got their shoes on. Then I started to march outside.
I clapped and marched like a complete IDIOT. We went a ways up the street. Just a change of pace – a change of scenery. DANG if they haven’t gotten smarter in their healing and weren’t doing everything in their power to NOT let me be playful and disengaging. I had to pull out about a dozen little things from the Arsenal-o-Therapeutic-Parenting. I had 27 moments of just wanting to SCREAM!
I’m gonna’ learn one of these days to charge admission and put it toward a vacation fund.
At one point, there was a classic rage, face down on the side of our road. Cars were slowing down. I said, “Um, darlin’, you think you might want to cut the crap before that guy in the truck calls the sheriff?” He had pulled over and was gawking like there was no tomorrow. My kid was strong, stood up, and joined me back over by our porch. I had ample opportunity to practice some Daniel Hughes affective-reflective dialogue. I both succeeded and sucked eggs at this, but I tried.
An aside: “cut the crap” is not considered a part of affective-reflective dialogue. Ya’ know, in case there was any confusion.
The other very regressive behaviors were at their highest for about 48 hours. It was a jump back to the days of walking on egg shells over every little interaction with our child. Not fun.
Yet, we survived. There have been plenty of other things throughout all of this, but as many of you do – that is chalked up to “normal life” with a child of trauma.
Next time, I’m super gluing all shoes to all feet so that neither can drop. Ever. Again.
(photo by Kuba Ostrowski, used with permission)
Tags: pacing yourself