Radio Interview on Mental Health and Adoption

As a therapist, I recognize that good mental health is extremely important.  And as a mother raising children with mental health issues, I recognize that good mental health as parents is just as important!  After all, being able to deal with the daily needs of our children takes its toll, and if we aren't being mindful of our own limitations and needs, then we won't be enough for our children, and we certainly won't be productive in any of our other relationships either.

On my recent radio interview with therapist Tiffany Wherner in Tampa Bay, we discussed these very issues.  Remember, in order to be a blessing to others, we need to make sure we're taking care of ourselves first.  It's not selfish, it's a necessity.  If your family's plane is going down, you need to put on your own breathing mask in order to help those around you.

And so together we will encourage one another to improve our self-care.  Not because we see the other as weak, but because we know the immense strength it takes to parent children with mental health issues.  And we know that we, too, are worth it.  Embrace that today, Mamas and Daddies.  And pass the love on to the parents around you that are also screaming in silent.

To hear the full interview, click on the link below!

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To The Woman Who Thinks Adoption Will Make Her Happy

Dear Adoptive Mama,

            Hello, Sweet Woman.  I wanted to take a moment and talk to you, one on one.  I needed to reach out to you because, well, I’ve been in your shoes.  I, too, have a heart that breaks for every single child in need of a family – the abused, the neglected, the mentally ill, the physically disabled, the ones in the foster system, the drug addicted, the inconvenient, the unwanted. 

            And yes, my heart breaks the same for the ones with strong birth Mamas… ones that say, “I need to do this for my child – she deserves more.”  God bless those Mamas.  They do what is courageous and what requires more strength than anyone could ever possibly imagine.

            I, too, have thought that by taking in those precious children, I would find my life’s happiness.  I thought that I would find the contentment that was missing when I was told I wouldn’t have children of my own.  I believed that, by taking in another woman’s child, my life’s purpose would be complete and I would finally find happiness.

            And yet, My Friend, adoption did not make me happy.  You see, I fell into the same rose-colored worldview that many other Mamas have fallen prey to.  That vision of rescuing a child and loving them into wholeness – the idea that paperwork, finances, and legalities would “work themselves out in the end”.  I assumed that I was capable of handling anything that God gave me.  I would address each challenge with a smile, and my children would rise up and call me blessed.

            Perhaps I was delusional.  Probably naïve.  Definitely unprepared.

            No, adoption did not make me happy.  In fact, because of my faulty view of adoption, I found myself crying most of the time.  Why was no one calling me blessed?  Where were my tears of happiness? Where were my beautiful memories to be made?  Where was my perfect ending?  Probably in the same place as my missing jewelry and shattered belongings.

            You see, I had anticipated temporary obstacles when I should’ve been preparing for mountains that may or may not ever move from their place.  Had I gone in with seasoned eyes, I may have shed fewer tears.  But then again, who can say?  All I know is that adoption isn’t capable of filling ones’ need for fulfilment.  How can it when these are the words that you may hear on a regular basis:

“You’re not my real Mom!”

“I wish I could live anywhere else but here!”

“You hate me! Why did you even take me from my real family?”

“So, you bought me??”

“Are you going to give me back?”

“Why didn’t my birth family love me?”

“If you could’ve had kids, you never would’ve wanted me… I’m your second choice.”

            Trust me when I tell you that adoption will not fix your sad heart, nor will it give your life purpose.  After all, if you are looking for a child to do any of those things, it’s safe to say that you’re looking in the wrong place.  I know this, because once again, I was in your shoes.

            Between the rages and the aggression, the destruction and the massive break downs, the acting out and the suspensions – between all these things are also caseworker visits, court hearings, doctor appointments, therapy sessions, behavior management courses, and one million trips to the pharmacy each month.  Now, is this the case for every adoption?  Definitely not!  (So take a big breath and keep reading.)  However, being prepared for mountains is how you will keep your sanity.  It will be your survival guide when you find yourself locked in your closet, weeping into a bowl (pint) of Ben and Jerry’s.

            And I can assure you, whether you have the smoothest adoption or you find you’ve invited Damien Jr. into your home, there will be moments when you ask yourself, “Did I do the right thing?”

            And Mama, always remember that you are not alone when you ask that.  No parent ever is.  We all start out with a dream and end up smack dab in the midst of reality, and it’s usually not as beautiful as we’d hoped.  However, even if you’re being lied to, spit at, or cursed for the twentieth time that hour, you can face your mountain of the day with joy.  Tears, yes.  But joy, still.

            Because the only thing that will give you joy – make you feel complete – is knowing that you’re giving your all, every single day, for a child that needs unconditional love.  Whether or not that child ever thanks you, whether she ever recognizes the sacrifices you’ve made, whether he ever apologizes for how he’s made you cry… by the grace of God, you have risen each day and carried on.  THAT is what will make you happy, Mama.

Sincerely and with Much Love,

Striving for Sanity

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Growing Up Grateful

           Do you ever feel like you’re raising UnGrateful children?  I’m guessing that any parent can say ‘yes’ to that statement, because at some point in their lives, ALL children are ungrateful.  Quite honestly, many adults can be, as well!  But what I’m referring to is the child that cannot be sated.  As soon as they have a need, they want it met, and if that need is not met in a specific way by a specific person at a specific time, then life as they know it is over.

            I’ve noticed this intense reaction in my own children on more occasions that I care to count… sometimes, with my oldest, it’s almost daily.  Spend time with me, play a game with me, do a craft with me, take me here, take me there, buy me this, buy me that…you don’t love me, you never do anything for me, you never get me anything…

            The constant question of what we’re doing “next”, even after we’ve had a day full of fun events – the incessant need for what everyone else has, even if it’s something my child doesn’t want – the chronic desire to be entertained because they simply cannot keep themselves content – the tears of pity shed because they’re told ‘no’ for something outrageously priced or an item that they would never even use.  Holidays, birthdays, family get togethers, play dates… they’re just never enough.

            Whereas I recognize that this is a somewhat common event in the life of any parent, if you are parenting a child with trauma or attachment issues, I can bet my bottom dollar that you know exactly what I’m talking about.  Here are a couple examples of how this plays out in my own home.

1)      For Christmas, we bought the kids a stupid amount of toys.  I’m not kidding, it was as if we’d lost our senses and decided that what they needed in order to feel secure was more “stuff”.  After several hours of putting together a Barbie Dream House, my daughter, Taylor, now refuses to play with the toy unless I play with her.  And upon getting the guitar that she begged us for, she has touched it a total of 3 times… all times were with my husband or I.  None of her toys led her to be more independent or self-sufficient in the slightest.

2)      My son, Cameron, was also given new Legos, a scooter, and tons of building toys for Christmas – which is exactly what he asked for.  So, you can imagine my frustration when I constantly find his toys in the garbage can.  When questioned, he says nonchalantly that he doesn’t like them anymore.  Hundreds of dollars thrown down the drain for a few months use (some of which he didn’t even bother to use in the first place).

3)      Taylor and I played board games for 2 hours last weekend.  She got to pick the games and I was a good sport for 120 minutes.  (120 minutes of Balloon Lagoon is equivalent to a 6-hour dental exam, by the way.)  During this time, Wyatt, the not even 1-year-old, was able to keep himself entertained with his train set next to us.  Yet, as soon as the final game ended, she asked what we were going to do next.  And when I told her that I was going to get dinner started, she proceeded to act like an insolent child, pouting and whining that I never do anything with her.

4)      Cameron had earned money for helping his grandmother with her spring cleaning.  He then decided he wanted to use his money to buy toys at the second-hand store down the street.  He knew exactly what he wanted and was obsessed with making the purchase.  Several hours later, he was angry with his decision, frustrated that he is now penniless with something that he couldn’t stop talking about only hours before.

5)      After 4 years of living in our home, my children, especially my daughter, will not smile or respond to any person who gives her a compliment, a piece of candy, a valentines card… nothing!  Today alone, I had to prompt her 4 times in two hours to thank someone for doing or saying something nice to her.  (Not that she smiled while she did it, even with the prompts!)

6)      This morning, we took the children to an event at their school.  They’d been pleading with us to go for days and we agreed that it would be something fun to do on a Saturday morning.  Only once we got there, both children decided that it was “boring” and that they would take turns crying and pouting over the fact that we were wasting time doing something they had asked us to do with them.  Never a thank you, never a smile.

7)      Last week, Taylor threw a fit because Cameron had juice and she didn’t.  It was a juice that she had tried the previous day and hated.  She dumped the juice out and spent a large amount of time raving over its grossness.  And yet, the following day, Cameron was given the juice because he likes it, yet Taylor was given water.  She proceeded to tell me how unfair I am and that her father and I never do anything for her.

8)      Grandparents and relatives have given my children “heirlooms” – toys that were theirs when they were small, significant articles of clothing, letters written specifically to them, even jewelry or tiny items that hold significance and meaning for the giver.  Only, to my children, there is no significance – there is no meaning.  Instead, I find these items broken, thrown out into the yard, torn up, or in the trash. 

              Often, it’s hard to see past the lack of gratitude.  It’s hard to not become frustrated when they continually argue with each other over something small, but that they show no care at all for the important things in life.  Growing up, our family didn’t have much money.  Yet my brother and I, we played hard.  We were creative, we laughed, we invented, and we made good use of all we had.  So, when my kids act like dollar store items or thrift shop play clothes are beneath them, I take it a bit personally.  When they demand my attention 24/7 and expect me to give them ALL of my undivided attention or else something in my house will end up broken, a tantrum will break out, or the older kids will fight one another like gladiators, I feel like I’m being blackmailed to spend time with my own children!

              Are there any parents out there that can give me an ‘Amen’ to that?  When your children are equally as crabby when they’re given everything they want as when they’re grounded for fighting, you know there’s something a bit “abnormal” going on!  And that abnormality is, unfortunately, common in Reactive Attachment Disorder. 

              Children that didn’t get their initial needs met will strive to get any and all desires met from that point forward.  Expectations will always be insurmountably high, making disappointment a certainty.  However, wisdom tells us that material goods will never fill the holes in our hearts – money will never make us truly happy – all the toys in the world won’t fix an internal need.

             I wish I had a magic wand that I could wave and take away that inner struggle my children face.  I would wave it daily… hourly, even.  Because I know the feeling of unrest and discontentment.  It leads to anxiety and hopes being dashed.  It aids depression and feelings that life isn’t good enough.  And that’s not what I want for any of my children.

            I simply want for my older kids to be able to have half as much concentration as our toddler, for them to find joy in little things, for them to find peace and comfort in our moments together, without rushing ahead to look for something better.

            But I do not hold such magic, just an understanding that their actions are a result of a bigger issue deep down.  I hold the ability to not take personal offense when my children act like I don’t do enough, spend enough, give enough.  I have the power to reaffirm them in the important ways, such as time, prayers, homework help, praise… and I hold the knowledge that this is not a quick fix.  I recognize that children want all the things and they will always want.  But with consistency, the proper perspective, a bit of patience, and a good amount of praying that I can meet that BIG internal need instead, I think they may just stand a chance at growing up Grateful.

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Acceptance and Forgiveness

My daughter is always writing me letters.  Both of my kids do, actually.  Taylor’s letters, however, often carry one common theme – The need for acceptance.  Because I get these kinds of letters from her on a weekly basis, I usually give them a quick read, answer whatever questions she asked on the paper, and move on with our day.

However, this note stood out to me as a bit different.  Here is a copy of the letter, which she agreed to let me post.

 In case you have a hard time reading 2nd grade writing (as anyone without a 2nd grader would), here is the translation:

 “Taylor Costa – I love you, Mom, so much.  The red stands for love.  I want to be good from now on, and I am sorry for all my sins I have done, and I will never do them again ever, ever, ever again.  I’ve been trying to fix my behavior up.  I hope it works good.  I just want you to forgive my sins.  Do you believe that I will fix my behavior up?  Yes or No”

This letter really struck me.  First of all, I had no idea what inspired the letter, leaving me to wonder if there’s a confession coming in the near future!  It surprised me because, if anyone should’ve been remorseful this weekend, it should have been my son.  After all, he’s the one that caused us to leave his school’s Mother-Son Dance early, due to discriminatory language towards a child in front of the child’s mother!  The woman was rightfully upset that her son was in tears on the dance floor, and she addressed me with the amount of emotion that one would expect, given the situation. 

It never ceases to amaze me that I can still feel embarrassed by my children’s behaviors.  Just when I think we’ve rounded a corner or that I couldn’t possibly be mortified any more in public than I already have been, that’s when another round of humiliation tends to occur.

I let the woman give my son a verbal lashing – partly because I was so angry that I didn’t trust my own words, and partly because she needed that outlet.  She recognized during our conversation that I am a mother of action – I won’t sit idly by and allow my child to disparage another.  So, I allowed her the words she needed to say to him, and then we left the dance.

And trust me, there were many more words to be had that night.

But back to Taylor’s letter.  What had she done that required my forgiveness?  And why was she asking me to forgive her sins, knowing full well that Jesus is the one that cleanses hearts, not I.

I decided we’d chat about her letter so I could have a better understanding of where she was coming from.  Taylor assured me there was no new confession coming (Phew!) but that Sunday’s church service had made her start thinking about her actions.  And that day, she had been praying (at school, nonetheless… let’s hear it for prayer in a public school by an 8-year-old!) and she felt that she wanted to change her life.  She wanted me to forgive her for all her past behaviors and she wanted that acceptance from me – she wanted to know that I didn’t hold a grudge, and that I believed in her and that she was capable of changing.

I don’t know about you, but as a parent, I’ve held grudges.  I know it’s wrong.  I know it’s childish.  I also know it’s human.  And I’ve fallen prey to my humanity many times with these children of mine!  They came to us with issues that were far beyond what we ever could have imagined, yet when we chose to adopt them, we chose to take them as they were – sins and all.  Because isn’t that how God took us when we were adopted into His family?

Yet God doesn’t hold grudges, and I had.  Worst of all, my daughter was aware of that fact.  Her letter was a peace offering.  It wasn’t the normal overly-decorated card she’d hand me each week, donned with new vocabulary words she’d learned that day in school.  This was different. 

My daughter had prayed.  She found conviction.  And she wanted forgiveness.  She wanted to mend our relationship, and she needed to know that I was all in… that I believed in her.

It was a very emotional letter from a little girl to her Mom.  And in that moment, I felt convicted of my own sins – the grudges I’d held onto, knowing that the previous apologies always led back to the same behaviors time and time again.  But this time, this time she was asking for me to have faith in her.  More so, she was asking me to have faith that God was altering her heart and that she was honestly trying to change.

Without another word, I took my pen and circled the word ‘Yes’ that she had written at the bottom of her letter.  The smile that came across her face was beautiful.  Grudges were dismissed and “sins were forgiven”… not because I could cleanse her heart, but because I realized that God had already done so.

Even in those days that are difficult and we find ourselves being chewed out by angry parents, God always seems to provide a loophole in the defeat.  Through the simple letter of my daughter, God renewed my faith that He was indeed doing a work in our family – each and every one of us.

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"Garbage Bag Suitcase: A Memoir" Book Review

          It took me less than 1 day to read this remarkably written memoir, not because it’s what I would consider an “easy read” but because I was captivated to the point of not being able to put the book down.

            Written by Shenandoah Chefalo, Garbage bag Suitcase offers a personal look into the life of one child – one small girl who faced abuse and neglect in her daily life – a life that was worth saving even though no one was there to step in and be a savior. In her memoir, Chefalo describes the intense trauma she suffered at the hands of those ordered to care for her by the people that she was supposed to love and trust most in this world.

            And after living in chaos and instability for 13 years, transferring her few belongings from place to place in a garbage bag that came to be known as her suitcase, she found the immense courage to make a choice – instead of remaining under the parental umbrella of addiction, abuse, and mental illness, Chefalo chose herself.

            Sadly, making life-altering choices usually come with a consequence or two. And in Chefalo’s case, she wound up in the foster care system. Lost and struggling with her identity, she writes of facing each new school, each new home with an underlying drive to make a way through her struggles, to become one of the 3% of foster children to go to college, and one of the 1% to graduate.

            In her memoir, Chefalo relays even more staggering statistics about the foster care system. She shares the mental and physical complexities that are common among children who have aged out of their foster homes with nowhere to go, no one to turn to as support. She reflects on her own struggles with lying , food, and relationship – how they weren’t just behaviors that needed to be “fixed” as our society proclaims, but how they were a way to stay alive and a way to reinvent herself, especially since her family and a broken system left her wondering who she even was.

            The inside glimpses she vulnerably shares in Garbage Bag Suitcase challenged me to look at my own children through a different lens. To understand the helplessness and fear that can still grip a child that has been through such trauma, who has been taken away from all that they’d known, as dysfunctional as it was, and placed with strangers – to see how one can walk away from the wreckage of it all and to make yet another choice, one of forgiveness… well, there aren’t words to describe the miracle of it all.

            In the second section of her book, Chefalo tackles her ideas of how to reform our current foster care system, changing it in ways that promise hope and success for many more children than the current statistics show. Personally, I have always felt that vigorous and constant early intervention services would be the best preventative measure for keeping children out of foster care, helping parents learn to parent in their own homes, bridging that gap and averting the formative years from being overlooked in our young children. Because, once a child gets to school, even if a teacher or administrator notice that something just “isn’t right” with a child, will they report it? Will anything be done? Will the child just be taken and traumatized further? Instead, Chefalo offers brilliant suggestions that are currently being tested and used in our country, offering children a better chance at life.

            And if one child is able to make the choice for themselves, and the choice for forgiveness, then this little girl’s story, with her garbage bag suitcase, will not have been in vain.

            To purchase this story for yourself, click here and follow Shenandoah's blog at http://garbagebagsuitcase.blogspot.com/