Many different things are going on lately. Many different worries are present. Some of them are medical. I'm trying to stay focused on the moment but my mind seems to keep drifting off in attempts to fix the worries.
3 AM found me wide awake processing. Yeah....I probably should've tapped on that. I probably still should. But I'm not done with trying to control it myself and find different solutions to the situations. I'll get there but it's a process for me to get there. If you've emailed or called me and I haven't gotten back with you, I'm sorry. I'll get back to you...it just make take me a little while.
Tomorrow there are some doctor appointments that some of my immediate family members will be attending. Unfortunately they are at almost the same exact time and as much I would like to, I cannot be in two places at once.
Any good energy, prayers, kind thoughts, whatever you believe in, would be greatly appreciated.
Don't forget about our own personal tapping session on Thursday, May 3rd. 9 PM EST. I'll be there no matter what. Click here for the link.
On the off chance that you have no idea what I'm talking about, click here for some more details.
Monday, April 30, 2012
ETAAM
It's official! Corey created a website just for ETAAM. Go check it out!
Early Trauma & Attachment Annual Meeting. Click here.
Early Trauma & Attachment Annual Meeting. Click here.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Below I have copied and pasted a post from Cindy Bodie's blog. Her son, Chuy, tells his story and it's a story that millions need to read. I was afraid if I just posted the link that you might not click on it. Cindy & Chuy have given me permission to post his story here.
E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. needs to read this. Please send comments to Cindy's blog because she is forwarding them to Chuy's phone.
Chuy, You are A.w.e.s.o.m.e.!!!
Do not miss a word....
From Cindy:
My 16 year old son wrote this lengthy, gut-wrenching narrative last night. I have his permission, of course, to share it. He uses his given name here, not the nickname we call him by. I am not proofreading, nor breaking it into paragraphs, this is his story, and it's staggeringly horrific, very, very painful to read.
I cried my eyeballs out about it. Sobbed until late last night. The only thing I'd disagree about is even though he referred to me as aged, at that time that we met I was only 47. He thinks he remembers face makeup on me then. I don't ever wear face makeup. I must've had on some scary lipstick or something that day.
I deeply, deeply love him. I admire and respect him. I am blown away by his words. I am certain that he will grow up to be an amazing man.
From Chuy:
When he opens his eyes in the morning. He sees nothing but the sky. Sleeping outside. But keeping it all inside. Never telling the full truth of his past. The true hurt and suffering that can't be told, but only experienced. Experiences that he suppresses back in his memories, but is constantly reminded of by his new, everyday life. Like seeing a child with their mom; a child with their father; a brother and sister together; a brother and another brother; smiles on peoples' faces, but that appear to be genuine. Not reminded because he was used to seeing them, but because he has always been neglected and withheld from the true joys of having someone truely care. The unexplainable comfort of a mother's arms. The unfamiliar security of a father. Always seeing families together, yet not knowing what it is like to have one. Always feeling clueless when asked about who his parents are... Or were. Having had seen things in person that his new peers only see in movies; horror movies. Being shocked when someone says "I love you"; since these words were never spoken to him before. Walking in a world that seems to be more cruel than Hell itself. Teachers see just another student, but he has learned things that they can't teach. Friends see just another friend in the distance, but he only sees their outlines, and seems to just see through them. Watching families talk and enjoy each others' company, while being the only one who knows the true bond of family; when family is the only thing that you have. He would never dream of raising a fist to someone else, but he fights tears with every passing moment. Neglected by his parents. Forgotten by society. He alone knows who he is, and where he's been. Knowing where he has been just doesn't seem to serve any purpose to him though, because he never knows where he is going. Always waking up in a new bed, or on a new floor. Never spending enough time in a single house to remember where the bathroom is. Never remembering where he wakes up. Never seeming to care if he even does wake up. He has gotten to the unfortunate state where the riding in the seat of a police car is become a too familiar and common event in his life. He faces the daily struggle of trying to hold his composure. Trying to hold his stability; not for him. but for the family that he still has. Since the cold nightmare of an event, he seems to not speak a word to anyone. Only the light whispers that he says to his little brother and sister before they go to sleep. Reminding them that he loves them. Feeling that he serves little or no purpose in this world as the middle child of a forgotten group of children who cannot even fathom the trials that they have faced, or the new hardships of what is to come in the too near of a cold future. Only being four years old, he finds it to be a normal day A day where he doesn't remember yesterday, but not to his knowledge; a day that he will never forget. Waking up he simply looks at the wall beside him. Then stares at an unusual object above his bed. He looks across the room to see his mother. He then asks her what it is, and gets the memorable reply of "What? Oh that? That is the cross. The cross where a man died to save you. He is also the man that we named you after. Now come Jesus; come out of bed." A man who died to save him? This doesn't seem to make any sense, nor does it matter to him anymore, as a few moments pass and the conversation is forgotten. The memory of today seems to be followed by only one other event, where he hears a room filled with noise and too many distracting sounds to pass his curiosity. Getting up, he begins to make his efforts into more of a rush, as whatever is happening seems to be quite exciting and is very attention-catching. As he enters the room his eyes widen; his body freezes; and his scars begin to form. The horror unfolds as he listens to a very fierce argument between his mother, and the man that he has grown up thinking of as his father. Never knowing what the argument was about, or how it started didn't even matter anymore. He closes his eyes. Then opens them as he recognizes familiar cries; his brothers and sister are in the corner together. All crying and screaming at the two who are fighting to stop, but none of them looking up even once. The forceful pull of a man he doesn't know throws him against the wall that his brothers and sister are. An officer. An officer, who unknowingly, had come just a second too late. His little sister and little brother are behind the two of his older brothers, but they all face the corner as they cry with what seems to be no resistance. Looking up, he sees the man who had pulled him to the wall beginning to yell at his parents, but with absolutely no meaning. With the quick reach of his mother's arm; the closest weapon is grasped tightly and fiercely; giant blade as tall as he was. Finding his will to divert his eyes seemingly impossible, he witnesses the most scarring event that he will have ever experienced as the blade finds its way to the man he called his father. After witnessing this, the young and frightful child then joins the flooding waters in the corner of the room. The wailling screams of 4 children, as they look up to hear the sounds of the brutal argument come to a halt, are only replaced by a silence that only deepens the memories. Time freezes as the next moment passes. Then it slowly creeps back up as the faded voices of many policemen crowd around the murderer; their mother. The ground that they were barley standing on becomes unrecognizable as the new thick, red carpet covers the it. The fuzzy sounds of the officers are muted by the shock and horror of what he had just seen. Not even noticing that he is the only person left where he had joined the rest of his family in the corner, he finally comes back to reality when he is rushed across the room to the cold streets that are filled with flashing red and blue lights; across the room covered in blood. Before he passes under the doorway that led to his new future, he turned around, looked at the scene, and fell completely silent at the sight of his small footprint in the blood stained room. Having no other family, the first place that they were sent to was with their grandparents. Not a bad decision you could suppose. But you would be very wrong. Greeted with a smile as the police officers just handed the five children over they had no choice but to accept them as their new family and this as their new home. A very rugged and worn down home that would hold as many dreadful memories as his past. A quick wave as the cars with the lights on the top of them drove off was the moment that the greeting smiles left his grandparents. Many shoves and forceful gestures later and they were in their new home. A step to the side, and they had crossed the entire house it seemed, or should I say the very crammed and unwelcoming trailer. What they had thought would be a new start was just another dead-end. A place where complete neglect and child abuse held an absolute presence. The first night was the worst. It was the worst, not because of what happened, but because they were not yet used to what would keep happening. A cold night outside, and the only slightly heart-warming touch of his older brother as he had laid himself down on the splintering porch, was only the beginning of a series of some very dark memories. All laying side by side. All having the same thought: Why? Why must we be forced through so much? Why must there be so much cruelty in this world? Why must this be the worlds I live in? What must this be the very opposite of "living"? Sleeping outside with an old rug found as their covers for the night. Only able to sleep because of the completely wearying crying that had taken place only a day before. As morning crept up there was a silence across the entire horizon in every direction. The quick realization of having had been put in a secluded area in the middle of nowhere came over him. As Jesus woke up, he could find nothing to do; nothing to do, but cry. Awaking his older brother with this only made him all the more aware that he was not asleep. It made him aware that although he was not sleeping that he was living a nightmare. An old trailer filled with two hateful people that could, but would not, take care of him and his family. He found himself completely unable to even consider them as his parents in any way. After more searching in the horizon, The now five year old child saw that the only thing around him in walking distance was a bus. He knew it was a bus because he remembered seeing one as it would pass the outside of the window in his old home. It took the older kids to school. After an eternity, everyone was awake. They decided, for some odd reason, to venture into the trailer to see what was for breakfast. "Whatever you can find over there!" That was the only reply they got as an arm extended with a finger pointing at a very old looking cupboard. Well they got to eat breakfast; if that's what you can call it. Some leftover, crushed, and unrecognizable mixture of what was supposed to be their food was found inside a box. It wasn't much, but it was at least edible. This was a daily routine. Day after day the same this was what was expected. Everything predictable, until a night filled with dark clouds covered the skys. Flashes of light scattered here and there, followed by the violent echoes of thunder as it shook the unstable boards. A click, a sudden thought came to mind. The bus. Why not go to it? It provided more cover than they had where they were, and it for some reason seemed to never move. The rush of five figures ran across the dirt, none of them seeming to ever get any further than an arm's length away. After reaching the bus they realized why it never moved. Because their initial thoughts were right on the first morning that they awoke in this Hell-hole: they were in the middle of nowhere. This bus was broken down with busted out windows and rusty metal scattered all around it. Whatever. It was still better. It did have a roof after all. This was something that brought at least the slightest of joy to them. It was away from the abusive couple, and it was much more protective from the harsh elements of the weather. None of them thought to think about the morning though. About the couple who was supposed to be taking care of them. What they would think of the sudden disappearance of them. In all honesty, probably nothing, If not nothing, then it would strike a slight jolt of joy at the riddance them. And that was right. When they finally returned to the house after awakening, they greeted with two faces that showed much anger. That anger wasn't just anger, but multiple beating waiting to happen. Quite reluctantly for them though, there was a visit from the all too familiar police officers a few days after. Looks of horror and a very shady excuse was all that was needed to remove the five children once more to, yet another, "home". All memories appeared to be the same for the next year. The repeating memories of the silent rides in the police cars. The sleepless nights at the new places that he was somehow expected to call "home". Why would he call any of these places "home"? He only knew one place to be his home, but that place seemed to be covered in horrifying memories that seemed to be written out by Satan himself. Everywhere he went there seemed to be a group of new faces. There was always a house for him and his torn apart family to go to, but there was never a place that they could call home. The continuous rides and greetings came to be almost second nature to him; greetings that would very quickly become departing words. This happened over and over, until there seemed to be a place that they could call their home. A man named Issac and his wife took him and his family in. They cared for them. And although they were always awaiting their time to leave, this seemed to never happen. He even started to go to school. He made friends, and seemed to completely forget what had happened. He even seemed to accept the new couple as his parents. Almost as if they had always been there for them; as if they were...family. Time passed. Jesus was beginning to accept them as his parents. They seemed to act the part, and they showed compassion to his family. Everything was going all too well, of course. He should have known be now that all good things must come to an end. Those people came again. The people dressed in their matching uniforms. POLICE. Heart break was not even a start to the feeling that overcame him. He didn't cry though. Not even a tear. Not because he didn't feel like it, but because he felt the familiar lump in his throat that wouldn't let him speak, or utter a single word. He simply waited until he saw who had come with them. A white lady. There were few white people that he had seen before, but she was accompanied by a few others. They were children, but they weren't white like her. He just went ahead and accepted the fact that it was time for another trip to another house after another ride in another police car. But he was wrong. It wasn't to a house. The ride was to a giant building that read HOTEL. A what? Who cared? It looked very nice! There were many people who greeted them with smiles as they entered, regardless of how terrified they seemed, and were. The lady seemed nice, and very oddly, she even spoke Spanish. She made some small talk to them behind her slightly aged grin, Her eyes appeared slightly dark behind the face that was covered in makeup, but they appeared even more bright than dark. They seemed hopeful. They gave that light look that was just enough to allow me to at least force another fake smile to another stranger. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten everything. They were all about in the hotel room. Some watching T.V. Some laying in the bed. Others scattered across the floor with a quickly emptying bag of many plastic toys. He didn't know how they were able to so quickly adjust to what had happened and to what was happening, but just made the quick decision to join everyone. Somehow this was something that could; even after the darkest of moments, behind the deepest of scars, under the most covered and neglected of emotions, have him force a smile. A smile that had not happened in far too long for a child. A smile of true happiness. The next morning after having had been used to eating the garbage that was supposed to be food, Jesus was overwhelmed by shock as something of a sweet aroma came to him in his awakening. This was slightly uncomfortable, but in a good way. In a way that would set a very jagged, shattered, and torn apart heart in the direction of recovery. A quick ride, and a flight through the skies was all that had separated him from being able to pursue something that he had only heard the word of. A word that he had never quite known the meaning of. A word that could only be defined by having had experienced it. The word: Living. Not having to go through a day in fear of the shadow of death that always lingered in the air. Not having to wonder if there would be food that day. Not having to worry about the only thing that he cared about; his family. The new life that was placed before him was a great blessing. A blessing that he had absolutely no idea how great it was, and still is. A blessing that he still has no idea how amazing has been to him. To me. To Jesus. I, Jesus, had finally been able to live an entire day where everything seemed normal; or at least for me. When the plane finally touched down in Georgia, I was unaware of where I even was, and I didn't even care. Me and my family took a drive through a new environment. A new area of the world. New surroundings that I would would unknowingly come to call an actual: HOME. Unfamiliar faces greeted us as before the car had even stopped in the driveway of a very large house, as if they had known us all our lives. With that new feeling that I hadn't yet experienced too often, a smile came upon my face as other children came to us with warm welcomes before we had even made it to the doorway in the garage. A very friendly environment is enough to make someone feel out of place when they have been used to just the opposite. When all we knew was hostile environments that were ever changing before us, and before we even had time to blink, in an awakening of another household almost every day. But it seemed that that had changed. Real bedding, real blankets, and a real home had finally been presented. All I could do was wonder in awe as I wondered how long this would last, just as every other house had only become a distant memory that came to haunt me when I awake to more new faces. But I didn't know. I didn't know that this would become the place that I would call home. The place that I would be able to become emotionally attached to, and not then have my emotions simply thrown aside. But what else was I to think? It was just a habit. Days passed, and a six year old boy soon became seven. The day seemed no different than most others. The "Happy Birthday" greeting somewhere in the day. But I was awfully thrown off when I was confronted with presents. With gifts. I had never received a gift before. Overwhelmed by joy, I had completely forgotten that I was holding an unopened, wrapped box with a surprise. After a few moments of a cheerful grinning, I recollected myself and set my attention, once again, on the present. I don't remember what it was anymore, but I do remember cherishing it for a very long time. The first gift that I had ever gotten. And then came Christmas, which came with more gifts. The simplicity of a gift to a child is something that most parents have to the point where it's not even a gift anymore. To where it is just an expected item that they wanted, decorated with a bow and paper that would soon be in the trash. But a real gift is something that surprises someone, and is something that they then build a quick attachment to. Not because it's a something else for them to have, but because it is something from someone that they care about and that cares about them. And, although it took me a while to realize this, I WAS cared about for once. I was LOVED for once. And it was something that cannot just be given. It is something that takes time and patience to prove that it is true. It takes true compassion to build the understanding that they are loved to that individual. It is something that most people don't ever come to realize until it is too late. Until there is a time of passing. But after spending so much time testing this lady. After spending so much energy trying to see if she cared, setting off tears, emotional breakdowns, and temporarily becoming someone that I had despised for ruining my childhood; a hateful person, I finally came to realize that she really did love me. That I was loved. When vacations come, and we left the house, I would confide to my older brothers. I would ask them where we were going this time. I would wonder where we would sleep now. I would have a mind full of thoughts that were stains of my memories of the childhood that I never had. Much time passed. Many attempts of trying to prove to myself that this white lady was just the same as everyone else in my life had ever been. But only to disprove my own theory every time. After much time, when I finally became thirteen, I had felt the understanding that this would be where I were going to be living from now on. I came to the reality that I actually had a place to call "Home", and that I could feel a sense of security when I fell asleep at night. Where safety, joy, and family weren't just dreams in the distance. Sixteen. I am now sixteen, and although I still have moments of doubt, I still hold it to my heart that I am loved by someone that I can call my mother. Whether or not it is a biological relation between us, I know that it is a REAL-ation that we have. Despite the arguments we have, the cold eyes that gaze across the room when caught in moments of anger, I know that there is only one person who I can call a real mother to me. And that is you. So thank you for everything that you have done for me and my brothers and sister. This is something that I just feel has been needing to be said, but I could never find it in myself to confront you myself to tell you. Not without breaking down into tears as I did in my past. Though not the same tears, but tears of joy. The, still odd, ability to realize how much you care you really do care, whether you can fit it into your busy schedule to show it, I still know. So thank you mom. I love you. Sincerely Chuy (Ellis Jesus Bodie). -Jesus Montes-
E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. needs to read this. Please send comments to Cindy's blog because she is forwarding them to Chuy's phone.
Chuy, You are A.w.e.s.o.m.e.!!!
Do not miss a word....
From Cindy:
My 16 year old son wrote this lengthy, gut-wrenching narrative last night. I have his permission, of course, to share it. He uses his given name here, not the nickname we call him by. I am not proofreading, nor breaking it into paragraphs, this is his story, and it's staggeringly horrific, very, very painful to read.
I cried my eyeballs out about it. Sobbed until late last night. The only thing I'd disagree about is even though he referred to me as aged, at that time that we met I was only 47. He thinks he remembers face makeup on me then. I don't ever wear face makeup. I must've had on some scary lipstick or something that day.
I deeply, deeply love him. I admire and respect him. I am blown away by his words. I am certain that he will grow up to be an amazing man.
From Chuy:
When he opens his eyes in the morning. He sees nothing but the sky. Sleeping outside. But keeping it all inside. Never telling the full truth of his past. The true hurt and suffering that can't be told, but only experienced. Experiences that he suppresses back in his memories, but is constantly reminded of by his new, everyday life. Like seeing a child with their mom; a child with their father; a brother and sister together; a brother and another brother; smiles on peoples' faces, but that appear to be genuine. Not reminded because he was used to seeing them, but because he has always been neglected and withheld from the true joys of having someone truely care. The unexplainable comfort of a mother's arms. The unfamiliar security of a father. Always seeing families together, yet not knowing what it is like to have one. Always feeling clueless when asked about who his parents are... Or were. Having had seen things in person that his new peers only see in movies; horror movies. Being shocked when someone says "I love you"; since these words were never spoken to him before. Walking in a world that seems to be more cruel than Hell itself. Teachers see just another student, but he has learned things that they can't teach. Friends see just another friend in the distance, but he only sees their outlines, and seems to just see through them. Watching families talk and enjoy each others' company, while being the only one who knows the true bond of family; when family is the only thing that you have. He would never dream of raising a fist to someone else, but he fights tears with every passing moment. Neglected by his parents. Forgotten by society. He alone knows who he is, and where he's been. Knowing where he has been just doesn't seem to serve any purpose to him though, because he never knows where he is going. Always waking up in a new bed, or on a new floor. Never spending enough time in a single house to remember where the bathroom is. Never remembering where he wakes up. Never seeming to care if he even does wake up. He has gotten to the unfortunate state where the riding in the seat of a police car is become a too familiar and common event in his life. He faces the daily struggle of trying to hold his composure. Trying to hold his stability; not for him. but for the family that he still has. Since the cold nightmare of an event, he seems to not speak a word to anyone. Only the light whispers that he says to his little brother and sister before they go to sleep. Reminding them that he loves them. Feeling that he serves little or no purpose in this world as the middle child of a forgotten group of children who cannot even fathom the trials that they have faced, or the new hardships of what is to come in the too near of a cold future. Only being four years old, he finds it to be a normal day A day where he doesn't remember yesterday, but not to his knowledge; a day that he will never forget. Waking up he simply looks at the wall beside him. Then stares at an unusual object above his bed. He looks across the room to see his mother. He then asks her what it is, and gets the memorable reply of "What? Oh that? That is the cross. The cross where a man died to save you. He is also the man that we named you after. Now come Jesus; come out of bed." A man who died to save him? This doesn't seem to make any sense, nor does it matter to him anymore, as a few moments pass and the conversation is forgotten. The memory of today seems to be followed by only one other event, where he hears a room filled with noise and too many distracting sounds to pass his curiosity. Getting up, he begins to make his efforts into more of a rush, as whatever is happening seems to be quite exciting and is very attention-catching. As he enters the room his eyes widen; his body freezes; and his scars begin to form. The horror unfolds as he listens to a very fierce argument between his mother, and the man that he has grown up thinking of as his father. Never knowing what the argument was about, or how it started didn't even matter anymore. He closes his eyes. Then opens them as he recognizes familiar cries; his brothers and sister are in the corner together. All crying and screaming at the two who are fighting to stop, but none of them looking up even once. The forceful pull of a man he doesn't know throws him against the wall that his brothers and sister are. An officer. An officer, who unknowingly, had come just a second too late. His little sister and little brother are behind the two of his older brothers, but they all face the corner as they cry with what seems to be no resistance. Looking up, he sees the man who had pulled him to the wall beginning to yell at his parents, but with absolutely no meaning. With the quick reach of his mother's arm; the closest weapon is grasped tightly and fiercely; giant blade as tall as he was. Finding his will to divert his eyes seemingly impossible, he witnesses the most scarring event that he will have ever experienced as the blade finds its way to the man he called his father. After witnessing this, the young and frightful child then joins the flooding waters in the corner of the room. The wailling screams of 4 children, as they look up to hear the sounds of the brutal argument come to a halt, are only replaced by a silence that only deepens the memories. Time freezes as the next moment passes. Then it slowly creeps back up as the faded voices of many policemen crowd around the murderer; their mother. The ground that they were barley standing on becomes unrecognizable as the new thick, red carpet covers the it. The fuzzy sounds of the officers are muted by the shock and horror of what he had just seen. Not even noticing that he is the only person left where he had joined the rest of his family in the corner, he finally comes back to reality when he is rushed across the room to the cold streets that are filled with flashing red and blue lights; across the room covered in blood. Before he passes under the doorway that led to his new future, he turned around, looked at the scene, and fell completely silent at the sight of his small footprint in the blood stained room. Having no other family, the first place that they were sent to was with their grandparents. Not a bad decision you could suppose. But you would be very wrong. Greeted with a smile as the police officers just handed the five children over they had no choice but to accept them as their new family and this as their new home. A very rugged and worn down home that would hold as many dreadful memories as his past. A quick wave as the cars with the lights on the top of them drove off was the moment that the greeting smiles left his grandparents. Many shoves and forceful gestures later and they were in their new home. A step to the side, and they had crossed the entire house it seemed, or should I say the very crammed and unwelcoming trailer. What they had thought would be a new start was just another dead-end. A place where complete neglect and child abuse held an absolute presence. The first night was the worst. It was the worst, not because of what happened, but because they were not yet used to what would keep happening. A cold night outside, and the only slightly heart-warming touch of his older brother as he had laid himself down on the splintering porch, was only the beginning of a series of some very dark memories. All laying side by side. All having the same thought: Why? Why must we be forced through so much? Why must there be so much cruelty in this world? Why must this be the worlds I live in? What must this be the very opposite of "living"? Sleeping outside with an old rug found as their covers for the night. Only able to sleep because of the completely wearying crying that had taken place only a day before. As morning crept up there was a silence across the entire horizon in every direction. The quick realization of having had been put in a secluded area in the middle of nowhere came over him. As Jesus woke up, he could find nothing to do; nothing to do, but cry. Awaking his older brother with this only made him all the more aware that he was not asleep. It made him aware that although he was not sleeping that he was living a nightmare. An old trailer filled with two hateful people that could, but would not, take care of him and his family. He found himself completely unable to even consider them as his parents in any way. After more searching in the horizon, The now five year old child saw that the only thing around him in walking distance was a bus. He knew it was a bus because he remembered seeing one as it would pass the outside of the window in his old home. It took the older kids to school. After an eternity, everyone was awake. They decided, for some odd reason, to venture into the trailer to see what was for breakfast. "Whatever you can find over there!" That was the only reply they got as an arm extended with a finger pointing at a very old looking cupboard. Well they got to eat breakfast; if that's what you can call it. Some leftover, crushed, and unrecognizable mixture of what was supposed to be their food was found inside a box. It wasn't much, but it was at least edible. This was a daily routine. Day after day the same this was what was expected. Everything predictable, until a night filled with dark clouds covered the skys. Flashes of light scattered here and there, followed by the violent echoes of thunder as it shook the unstable boards. A click, a sudden thought came to mind. The bus. Why not go to it? It provided more cover than they had where they were, and it for some reason seemed to never move. The rush of five figures ran across the dirt, none of them seeming to ever get any further than an arm's length away. After reaching the bus they realized why it never moved. Because their initial thoughts were right on the first morning that they awoke in this Hell-hole: they were in the middle of nowhere. This bus was broken down with busted out windows and rusty metal scattered all around it. Whatever. It was still better. It did have a roof after all. This was something that brought at least the slightest of joy to them. It was away from the abusive couple, and it was much more protective from the harsh elements of the weather. None of them thought to think about the morning though. About the couple who was supposed to be taking care of them. What they would think of the sudden disappearance of them. In all honesty, probably nothing, If not nothing, then it would strike a slight jolt of joy at the riddance them. And that was right. When they finally returned to the house after awakening, they greeted with two faces that showed much anger. That anger wasn't just anger, but multiple beating waiting to happen. Quite reluctantly for them though, there was a visit from the all too familiar police officers a few days after. Looks of horror and a very shady excuse was all that was needed to remove the five children once more to, yet another, "home". All memories appeared to be the same for the next year. The repeating memories of the silent rides in the police cars. The sleepless nights at the new places that he was somehow expected to call "home". Why would he call any of these places "home"? He only knew one place to be his home, but that place seemed to be covered in horrifying memories that seemed to be written out by Satan himself. Everywhere he went there seemed to be a group of new faces. There was always a house for him and his torn apart family to go to, but there was never a place that they could call home. The continuous rides and greetings came to be almost second nature to him; greetings that would very quickly become departing words. This happened over and over, until there seemed to be a place that they could call their home. A man named Issac and his wife took him and his family in. They cared for them. And although they were always awaiting their time to leave, this seemed to never happen. He even started to go to school. He made friends, and seemed to completely forget what had happened. He even seemed to accept the new couple as his parents. Almost as if they had always been there for them; as if they were...family. Time passed. Jesus was beginning to accept them as his parents. They seemed to act the part, and they showed compassion to his family. Everything was going all too well, of course. He should have known be now that all good things must come to an end. Those people came again. The people dressed in their matching uniforms. POLICE. Heart break was not even a start to the feeling that overcame him. He didn't cry though. Not even a tear. Not because he didn't feel like it, but because he felt the familiar lump in his throat that wouldn't let him speak, or utter a single word. He simply waited until he saw who had come with them. A white lady. There were few white people that he had seen before, but she was accompanied by a few others. They were children, but they weren't white like her. He just went ahead and accepted the fact that it was time for another trip to another house after another ride in another police car. But he was wrong. It wasn't to a house. The ride was to a giant building that read HOTEL. A what? Who cared? It looked very nice! There were many people who greeted them with smiles as they entered, regardless of how terrified they seemed, and were. The lady seemed nice, and very oddly, she even spoke Spanish. She made some small talk to them behind her slightly aged grin, Her eyes appeared slightly dark behind the face that was covered in makeup, but they appeared even more bright than dark. They seemed hopeful. They gave that light look that was just enough to allow me to at least force another fake smile to another stranger. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten everything. They were all about in the hotel room. Some watching T.V. Some laying in the bed. Others scattered across the floor with a quickly emptying bag of many plastic toys. He didn't know how they were able to so quickly adjust to what had happened and to what was happening, but just made the quick decision to join everyone. Somehow this was something that could; even after the darkest of moments, behind the deepest of scars, under the most covered and neglected of emotions, have him force a smile. A smile that had not happened in far too long for a child. A smile of true happiness. The next morning after having had been used to eating the garbage that was supposed to be food, Jesus was overwhelmed by shock as something of a sweet aroma came to him in his awakening. This was slightly uncomfortable, but in a good way. In a way that would set a very jagged, shattered, and torn apart heart in the direction of recovery. A quick ride, and a flight through the skies was all that had separated him from being able to pursue something that he had only heard the word of. A word that he had never quite known the meaning of. A word that could only be defined by having had experienced it. The word: Living. Not having to go through a day in fear of the shadow of death that always lingered in the air. Not having to wonder if there would be food that day. Not having to worry about the only thing that he cared about; his family. The new life that was placed before him was a great blessing. A blessing that he had absolutely no idea how great it was, and still is. A blessing that he still has no idea how amazing has been to him. To me. To Jesus. I, Jesus, had finally been able to live an entire day where everything seemed normal; or at least for me. When the plane finally touched down in Georgia, I was unaware of where I even was, and I didn't even care. Me and my family took a drive through a new environment. A new area of the world. New surroundings that I would would unknowingly come to call an actual: HOME. Unfamiliar faces greeted us as before the car had even stopped in the driveway of a very large house, as if they had known us all our lives. With that new feeling that I hadn't yet experienced too often, a smile came upon my face as other children came to us with warm welcomes before we had even made it to the doorway in the garage. A very friendly environment is enough to make someone feel out of place when they have been used to just the opposite. When all we knew was hostile environments that were ever changing before us, and before we even had time to blink, in an awakening of another household almost every day. But it seemed that that had changed. Real bedding, real blankets, and a real home had finally been presented. All I could do was wonder in awe as I wondered how long this would last, just as every other house had only become a distant memory that came to haunt me when I awake to more new faces. But I didn't know. I didn't know that this would become the place that I would call home. The place that I would be able to become emotionally attached to, and not then have my emotions simply thrown aside. But what else was I to think? It was just a habit. Days passed, and a six year old boy soon became seven. The day seemed no different than most others. The "Happy Birthday" greeting somewhere in the day. But I was awfully thrown off when I was confronted with presents. With gifts. I had never received a gift before. Overwhelmed by joy, I had completely forgotten that I was holding an unopened, wrapped box with a surprise. After a few moments of a cheerful grinning, I recollected myself and set my attention, once again, on the present. I don't remember what it was anymore, but I do remember cherishing it for a very long time. The first gift that I had ever gotten. And then came Christmas, which came with more gifts. The simplicity of a gift to a child is something that most parents have to the point where it's not even a gift anymore. To where it is just an expected item that they wanted, decorated with a bow and paper that would soon be in the trash. But a real gift is something that surprises someone, and is something that they then build a quick attachment to. Not because it's a something else for them to have, but because it is something from someone that they care about and that cares about them. And, although it took me a while to realize this, I WAS cared about for once. I was LOVED for once. And it was something that cannot just be given. It is something that takes time and patience to prove that it is true. It takes true compassion to build the understanding that they are loved to that individual. It is something that most people don't ever come to realize until it is too late. Until there is a time of passing. But after spending so much time testing this lady. After spending so much energy trying to see if she cared, setting off tears, emotional breakdowns, and temporarily becoming someone that I had despised for ruining my childhood; a hateful person, I finally came to realize that she really did love me. That I was loved. When vacations come, and we left the house, I would confide to my older brothers. I would ask them where we were going this time. I would wonder where we would sleep now. I would have a mind full of thoughts that were stains of my memories of the childhood that I never had. Much time passed. Many attempts of trying to prove to myself that this white lady was just the same as everyone else in my life had ever been. But only to disprove my own theory every time. After much time, when I finally became thirteen, I had felt the understanding that this would be where I were going to be living from now on. I came to the reality that I actually had a place to call "Home", and that I could feel a sense of security when I fell asleep at night. Where safety, joy, and family weren't just dreams in the distance. Sixteen. I am now sixteen, and although I still have moments of doubt, I still hold it to my heart that I am loved by someone that I can call my mother. Whether or not it is a biological relation between us, I know that it is a REAL-ation that we have. Despite the arguments we have, the cold eyes that gaze across the room when caught in moments of anger, I know that there is only one person who I can call a real mother to me. And that is you. So thank you for everything that you have done for me and my brothers and sister. This is something that I just feel has been needing to be said, but I could never find it in myself to confront you myself to tell you. Not without breaking down into tears as I did in my past. Though not the same tears, but tears of joy. The, still odd, ability to realize how much you care you really do care, whether you can fit it into your busy schedule to show it, I still know. So thank you mom. I love you. Sincerely Chuy (Ellis Jesus Bodie). -Jesus Montes-
Friday, April 27, 2012
Attachment Therapy
Urgent:
Is there anyone out there in the tubes that can recommend a good attachment therapist or a therapist that works on trauma with children? I need them to be within an hour drive of Kingston or Poughkeepsie, NY????
You can comment here or email me at LisaAmos @ payco.org.
Thanks!
Is there anyone out there in the tubes that can recommend a good attachment therapist or a therapist that works on trauma with children? I need them to be within an hour drive of Kingston or Poughkeepsie, NY????
You can comment here or email me at LisaAmos @ payco.org.
Thanks!
I Beat The Odds
Pretty much everyone has watched The Bl*nd Side, right? This is a movie that I really enjoyed but I wanted to know the rest of the story. Cause you know that Hollywood totally dramatized and changed things in the movie.
Enter "I Beat The Odds," by Michael Oh*r. This is the real story. Oh my but it is goodness. Michael tells how things really went down. He is so respectful and kind and all kinds of loveliness. He writes of his love of both his families, his family of origin and his adopted family. He writes of open adoption and how the Tuohys' included his first mom and siblings in his with his adopted family. He clears up all the misconceptions of the movie. He was pretty frosted about the scenes portraying him as stupid and that he had no idea how to play football but he clears all that up in a very tactful manner.
Michael is a man of great principles and it shows in every word. He is also a man to admire because he is working to set a great example for our children. He talks of learning to set boundaries. The book is written in a manner that is to encourage our children to "Beat The Odds." There are no inappropriate words for our kids to read. It is delightful in it's cleanness. This book is absolutely next on J's reading list. It is warm, embracing, and inspiring.
Quoted from the book,
"No matter what is going on around you that you can't control, your attitude is the one thing that you can control.
"We are all in this together, I'm pledging my support to be the best role model I can be through appearances and speeches I make for the various foster care support groups I work with, as well as with my lifestyle and the choices I make. I hope each child reading this book will pledge to value their life enough to commit to making it no matter what; and that every adult will pledge to find a way - any way- to give back.
If we all believe we can achieve something great, then I know that together, we can beat the odds, one life at a time."
J cannot have contact with her first family due to huge safety issues but this book opened my eyes to the fact that I should always be kind and respectful of J's feelings about her family of origin. I really do try to be very respectful but it's hard to keep that thought process in the pre-frontal lobe of my brain. Yes, the physical, emotional and sexu*l damage was something to be very angry about but if I reject her first family, it is as if I reject her. It also helped me to see how her internal beliefs were formed.
Loved, loved, loved "I Beat The Odds". Run, don't walk, to buy this book.
Enter "I Beat The Odds," by Michael Oh*r. This is the real story. Oh my but it is goodness. Michael tells how things really went down. He is so respectful and kind and all kinds of loveliness. He writes of his love of both his families, his family of origin and his adopted family. He writes of open adoption and how the Tuohys' included his first mom and siblings in his with his adopted family. He clears up all the misconceptions of the movie. He was pretty frosted about the scenes portraying him as stupid and that he had no idea how to play football but he clears all that up in a very tactful manner.
Michael is a man of great principles and it shows in every word. He is also a man to admire because he is working to set a great example for our children. He talks of learning to set boundaries. The book is written in a manner that is to encourage our children to "Beat The Odds." There are no inappropriate words for our kids to read. It is delightful in it's cleanness. This book is absolutely next on J's reading list. It is warm, embracing, and inspiring.
Quoted from the book,
"No matter what is going on around you that you can't control, your attitude is the one thing that you can control.
"We are all in this together, I'm pledging my support to be the best role model I can be through appearances and speeches I make for the various foster care support groups I work with, as well as with my lifestyle and the choices I make. I hope each child reading this book will pledge to value their life enough to commit to making it no matter what; and that every adult will pledge to find a way - any way- to give back.
If we all believe we can achieve something great, then I know that together, we can beat the odds, one life at a time."
J cannot have contact with her first family due to huge safety issues but this book opened my eyes to the fact that I should always be kind and respectful of J's feelings about her family of origin. I really do try to be very respectful but it's hard to keep that thought process in the pre-frontal lobe of my brain. Yes, the physical, emotional and sexu*l damage was something to be very angry about but if I reject her first family, it is as if I reject her. It also helped me to see how her internal beliefs were formed.
Loved, loved, loved "I Beat The Odds". Run, don't walk, to buy this book.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Even though I'm a hot mess...
For those of you who aren't attempting tapping, you can't stop reading now. There's nothing new here that you want to hear. Moving on to the next blog in your reader.........
Internalizing the affirmations of "I totally love and accept myself" is really difficult for a lot of us. It's even harder for our kids. That said, when you first start doing tapping if it's something that you absolutely cannot say....Don't. Say. It. Start with external conditional affirmations first.
Even though I am a hot mess, I have great toenails.
Even though I'm struggling right now, I have cute eyelashes.
Even though I have stinking thinking, I like my fingers.
Even though I screwed up, I like my *whatever is external*.
You get the idea. Gradually move into some internal affirmations.
The same things goes for our kids. Their internal belief system is cracked and warped because they've been taught or they think that they're not good enough, they're bad, etc. Don't expect them to be able to say unconditional affirmations until you think they are ready. Then start with a couple during the tapping routine. This will keep them from blowing it out when you first start doing it. They can "hear" the external affirmations much easier.
Even though I have so many secrets, my mom loves me.
Even though I have so much fear, my mom accepts me.
Even though people in my past taught me not to believe in myself, my mom believes in me.
Even though I feel broken, I have great elbows.
Even though I'm scared to tell anyone how hurt I am, I have cute fingernails.
Get the idea????
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Human
I've heard the rock star comment a few times. While I so appreciate the affirmations, it's hard to hear at the same time because I have failed miserably so many times.
I am only human. I screw up all the time. I try things that don't work out so well. I lose my cool. I lose my mojo sometimes. I've yelled. More times than I can count I have cried for days on end because I just don't think I can give one more thing. Emotionally bankrupt. I've thrown my hands in the air and retreated to my room with my head buried under the covers. I've thrown temper tantrums. I've been sarcastic when I should've been loving, kind and understanding. I lose my faith sometimes. I forget to keep my eye on the prize. I forget how far J has come in terms of healing. I fail to recognize progress. J's progress and mine. I fail to do a lot of things.
My list of failures is long.
I am only human.
Which reminds me of this quote:
“I didn't fail the test, I just found 100 ways to do it wrong” ~ Benjamin Franklin
I have failed a million times but I get back up and try to do better the next time.
I'm no different than you. Just like you, I am only human and I keep doing the best I can with the information I have at the time. When I know better I'll do better and until then I keep doing the best I can with the information I have. Just like you....
This work is hard. The most difficult job I've ever had. We did not get to where we are overnight. It has been a long and arduous journey. J has survived and thrived in spite of my screw ups.
It has been worth it.
My list of failures is long.
I am only human.
Which reminds me of this quote:
“I didn't fail the test, I just found 100 ways to do it wrong” ~ Benjamin Franklin
I have failed a million times but I get back up and try to do better the next time.
I'm no different than you. Just like you, I am only human and I keep doing the best I can with the information I have at the time. When I know better I'll do better and until then I keep doing the best I can with the information I have. Just like you....
This work is hard. The most difficult job I've ever had. We did not get to where we are overnight. It has been a long and arduous journey. J has survived and thrived in spite of my screw ups.
It has been worth it.
Guided Imagery
Dia is a very wise and resourceful woman and she's one of my go-to people for ideas. We had a little pow-wow a couple of days ago and she asked me to post on guided imagery again. This is coming from a mom who ignored this suggestion for a while but once she started doing it, they saw great benefits.
Invisible Heroes is one of my favorite books and one that has given much to our family. It is a gift to your child and to yourself. We've been doing guided imagery in Kristy's office since 2008 but in 2009 I purchased this book and have found it to be one of enormous value to our family. It's less than $10! You cannot beat that!
I first started posting about guided imagery here on February 5, 2009. Which resulted in great news on February 8, 2009 posted here.
Since then I've done many posts on this subject including this one on March 25, 2009.
Random fact: Most kids with trauma have very large pupils due to their hyper-vigilance. It's really interesting to be in a room of kids with trauma and see all the large pupils staring back at you. I had this privilege at a camp and it can be really disconcerting. The way I remember it, once I started doing guided imagery with J (when she slept) I noticed her pupils returning to their normal size.
In September 2009, I wrote this post about the lie detector test and guided imagery.
Then in October 2009 I wrote a script that I recorded for J. The script is here and feel free to use it if you think it will work for your child. We used this script for a really long time. I recorded it in my voice with some Reiki music in the background and it played all night long in her room. It's one of her favorites and the CD resides in a safe place in her room so she can pull it out anytime she wants. Three years later and she still pulls it out to listen.
June 6, 2011 found us still using this book. More about that and the benefits of hooping here. Just in case you're wondering, hooping in our house is a/k/a The Wet Dog Trauma Shake.
On January 30, 2011, I did a post on all the interventions, therapies, etc. that worked for us these are still true for us today. So if you're looking for some ideas there are many right here.
So in other words, get the book. Devour it. Embrace it and record it for your child. Remember these GI's build upon each other so start at the beginning with the first script. Also remember to record it in a slow monotonous tone of voice. If you've ever been hypnotized you know that tone.
If you're ODD and don't want to do it then...... WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T DO THIS. IT WON'T WORK ANYWAY!
So there..... :)
Was I fast enough, Dia????
Invisible Heroes is one of my favorite books and one that has given much to our family. It is a gift to your child and to yourself. We've been doing guided imagery in Kristy's office since 2008 but in 2009 I purchased this book and have found it to be one of enormous value to our family. It's less than $10! You cannot beat that!
I first started posting about guided imagery here on February 5, 2009. Which resulted in great news on February 8, 2009 posted here.
Since then I've done many posts on this subject including this one on March 25, 2009.
Random fact: Most kids with trauma have very large pupils due to their hyper-vigilance. It's really interesting to be in a room of kids with trauma and see all the large pupils staring back at you. I had this privilege at a camp and it can be really disconcerting. The way I remember it, once I started doing guided imagery with J (when she slept) I noticed her pupils returning to their normal size.
In September 2009, I wrote this post about the lie detector test and guided imagery.
Then in October 2009 I wrote a script that I recorded for J. The script is here and feel free to use it if you think it will work for your child. We used this script for a really long time. I recorded it in my voice with some Reiki music in the background and it played all night long in her room. It's one of her favorites and the CD resides in a safe place in her room so she can pull it out anytime she wants. Three years later and she still pulls it out to listen.
June 6, 2011 found us still using this book. More about that and the benefits of hooping here. Just in case you're wondering, hooping in our house is a/k/a The Wet Dog Trauma Shake.
On January 30, 2011, I did a post on all the interventions, therapies, etc. that worked for us these are still true for us today. So if you're looking for some ideas there are many right here.
So in other words, get the book. Devour it. Embrace it and record it for your child. Remember these GI's build upon each other so start at the beginning with the first script. Also remember to record it in a slow monotonous tone of voice. If you've ever been hypnotized you know that tone.
If you're ODD and don't want to do it then...... WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T DO THIS. IT WON'T WORK ANYWAY!
So there..... :)
Was I fast enough, Dia????
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Feeling Stupid
One of the new baby calves on my parent's farm.
For those of you who are new to my blog, please go read this post about Before and After first. Don't worry. I'll wait right here.... It'll be helpful for you to know where we started to where we are now. It's only a snippet of our lives but you'll get the idea. Those of you who've been hanging around with us for a while, it would probably help to get a reminder. It's easy for me to forget too.
Trauma doesn't leave overnight and love doesn't come in an instant.
While the fear level that our kids have is off the charts, our kids also feel stupid most of the time. Their internal script keeps repeating in their brains. It a hard cycle to break but the behaviors of "playing stupid" or "forgetfulness" can drive a person batty. I've never thought to do tapping on this belief but several events occurred a couple of weeks ago that lead Kristy to giving J & Kara the script below. Kristy gave us the example of "Pretend you're in a strange country. You know the language of this strange country but if you're really, really scared it feels safer to pretend as if you have no idea what anyone is talking about." She put it much more eloquently but you get the idea.
You already know the tapping points from the videos but here is our current script:
Even though I think I'm stupid, I'm a great kid.
Even though I think I'm not as smart as other kids, I'm clever and my mom loves me.
Even though sometimes other kids get more attention than me, I love myself.
Even though I'm worried that others think I'm stupid, I'm a great kid.
Even though I know I'm smart, thank you *RAD brain for playing stupid so I could stay safe.
Even though I like to pretend I forgot, I'm a great kid.
I let go of thinking I'm stupid.
It's impossible to measure smartness.
Even though I've felt stupid and less than, I'm working on this.
I release feeling stupid.
I release feeling stupid.
I release feeling stupid.
I release feeling less than.
I believe I can be smart.
I believe I can remember.
I believe I can learn.
I believe I can always pretend to be stupid if I need to feel safe even though there might be consequences.
Even though I use playing stupid to keep me safe, I can play smart.
Even though I'm scared to play smart sometimes, I'm a great kid.
Even though I'm scared, my mom loves me.
I'm letting go of feeling stupid.
I'm doing the best I can and I accept myself.
Today I think I'll choose to play smart.
Today I think I'll remember things I'm supposed to remember.
Today I think I'll choose to be smart and let others see the real me.
There had been some competition issues in classwork that warranted this script. It's all based in fear but it's hard to see the fear for the behaviors. Thank goodness Kristy spotted this one. The competition has stopped and the grades are much improved. Wish we'd been doing this one sooner.
Sheri was convinced tapping wouldn't work and thinking it was darn hinky actually. She posted tonight on her successes with tapping. Super coolness! But then again everything Sheri does is pretty darn cool!
Monday, April 23, 2012
Beloved T-Shirt
So a couple of years ago, my very wise and lovely friend, Dia, gave me a really cool t-shirt. It was pristine white and on the front of it said,
I loved that t-shirt and took really good care of it. It is still optic white with not a stain on it. When I was feeling really down or things were tough all around, I'd pull out that t-shirt and it would totally pick me up and make me feel better. J was usually not very happy about me wearing this shirt. Which meant I totally needed to be wearing it.
Fast forward a couple of years, a several weeks ago, we were at the lake and J had forgotten her pajamas. I pulled out that shirt since it would be a little big on her and she wore it to bed. The next day I was expecting to get it back.
Ummmm.....maybe not.....
I noticed it went through the laundry and thought it might be returned when clean. Nope. The next day she wore it during the day. Out in public. Picture me being very quiet. This is the child that likes her clothes to fit. They cannot be too big or too small. They must fit correctly. (Yes, I know why.) She was wearing it even though it was too big and in public. Hmm....
I haven't asked for the shirt back. I'm just watching this child who used to reject me with every fiber of her being....wearing a shirt that has a statement on it about me. Wow.
She is still wearing it. Often. Still in public.
Not only that but she is taking wonderful care of it. If she had worn that shirt 3 years ago her main goal would've been to rip it to shreds or stain it beyond recognition. I've noticed that she doesn't wear it when she's doing something that might get it stained like mowing the grass or fishing. It is still pristine, optic white.
Picture me still being very quiet. I'm still watching and enjoying.
My kid loves her "new" shirt. I don't have the heart to ask for it back.
Volumes of healing in this post.
"Mothers, Even When They Are Wrong, They Are Right."
I loved that t-shirt and took really good care of it. It is still optic white with not a stain on it. When I was feeling really down or things were tough all around, I'd pull out that t-shirt and it would totally pick me up and make me feel better. J was usually not very happy about me wearing this shirt. Which meant I totally needed to be wearing it.
Fast forward a couple of years, a several weeks ago, we were at the lake and J had forgotten her pajamas. I pulled out that shirt since it would be a little big on her and she wore it to bed. The next day I was expecting to get it back.
Ummmm.....maybe not.....
I noticed it went through the laundry and thought it might be returned when clean. Nope. The next day she wore it during the day. Out in public. Picture me being very quiet. This is the child that likes her clothes to fit. They cannot be too big or too small. They must fit correctly. (Yes, I know why.) She was wearing it even though it was too big and in public. Hmm....
I haven't asked for the shirt back. I'm just watching this child who used to reject me with every fiber of her being....wearing a shirt that has a statement on it about me. Wow.
She is still wearing it. Often. Still in public.
Not only that but she is taking wonderful care of it. If she had worn that shirt 3 years ago her main goal would've been to rip it to shreds or stain it beyond recognition. I've noticed that she doesn't wear it when she's doing something that might get it stained like mowing the grass or fishing. It is still pristine, optic white.
Picture me still being very quiet. I'm still watching and enjoying.
My kid loves her "new" shirt. I don't have the heart to ask for it back.
Volumes of healing in this post.
Information
I wanted to clarify how the tele-seminar will work. You will call the number, put in the access number and can mute your phone and just listen to everyone or un-mute and ask questions. You can be completely anonymous and just listen if you would like. Participate or not...it's totally up to you.
Video will not be available but when Brad leads us through a tapping sequence he will be queuing you the places to tap. If you have any more questions, feel free to email me at LisaAmos @ payco.org.
Sheri posted the following on a private forum. I asked permission to quote her here and she graciously agreed.
"All right, all right you win. I was avoiding tapping because I am oppositional like that. (I have never ever read Pioneer Woman because everyone else does and I refuse - that is perhaps why I was punk rock in the 80s too!) So this was a bad week with dealing with Dustin's issues when he turns 18 and his horrendous behavior this week as well as some really crappy money issues. I was determined that my weekend would not start off in a pile of shit. (excuse the language) I was determined that I would get my head on straight and pull it out for the kids. So . . . I did it. I didn't want to, but I tapped for the first time. It totally calmed me down and turned my mood around. And as we all know, if mama is happy everything goes much smoother. Swear to goodness, I think I may be a believer. Thanks Lisa Amos for beating me over the head with it."
So all you folks that don't want to try it or are ahem....oppositional. Whatever you do, DON'T TRY IT. DO NOT. Walk away now. Besides it'll never work. Of course it won't. Tapping is just silly and I'm not jumping on any bandwagon and you can't make me. So there. Don't forget to close this screen before you read all of it and absolutely don't forget to walk away in a huff while muttering under your breath.
Then there is Ramblings of a Trauma Mamma blog post. Oh my heavens! Totally didn't see that one coming.
On Sunday, I started getting texts from Trauma Mamma about mid-afternoon about what was going on at her house. She told me she was going to blog it later in the evening because her son wanted her to post it. The suspense was killing me but oh my goodness, it was worth the wait.
Hold the phone....Sunday morning I got an email from Brenda McCreight. The Brenda McCreight of The Adoption Counselor. After my heart went pitter pat and then jumped in my throat, I actually got myself together reply. She did an amazing blog post today on the power of tapping. Healing....that's what we're doing. My love of Cindy Bodie stretches far and wide so I was texting her to tell her I had an email from a rock star. She laughed at me but she loves me and gets it. On a day real soon you'll find me in Cindy's organic gardens happily teaching her tapping. Be jealous! Hanging with Cindy makes me very happy.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Big Announcement!
So a few weeks back I contacted Brad Yates and begged asked if he would consider doing a tapping video for Parents of Trauma. Trying to explain our lives and parenting traumatized kids in less than 150 words is challenging to say the least. I received a very nice computer generated response but it didn't sound like I would be hearing from Brad any time soon. I let out a heavy sigh and went on about my day......
During the day my mind was attempting to come up with a plan to help us. Parenting trauma is not for sissies. We know that but........as parents of our kids, we are cratering now. We are needing help now. We are trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and carry on now. Our spouses sometimes don't get it, family/friends don't get it, our kids pee and poop in the most creative places, rage, spit, jump out of moving vehicles, puke on us, perp on other kids, and a host of other behaviors. Yes, I get that it's the emotions coming out but it sure is hard to deal with day in and day out. Plus we have our PTSD to think about as well.
Knowing how much I loathe and despise being video taped, I went to Kristy hoping I could convince her to let me record her doing a tapping script. Ummmm.... didn't work out so well. She hates being taped even more than me.
So I put on my big girl panties and did a video for all of you fabulous moms. I faced my fears for all of you and did it anyway. Of course there was tapping involved first. :)
Fast forward a few days and imagine my surprise when I received an email from Brad. Not just any Brad. The better than Brad P*tts, Brad. I did 50 happy dances in about 5 seconds. Then I immediately sent texts to Christine and Kristy because I had to share the happy dance with them. Neither of them let me down and they joined me in the happy dance.
In the email, he offered to do a tele seminar for US. Did you hear me? A tele seminar just for US (and awesome dads too) trauma parents. So after a few emails back and forth we have decided on a date.
May 3rd is the evening you need to be connected to the internet and be tuned in. You will not be disappointed.
If you've been wondering if tapping is for you, wanting to know more, or gain a little more insight into tapping....this is for you.
If you are burned out, beat down and feel like you cannot give one more ounce of anything to anyone else in your life....this is for you.
If you have questions because this tapping thing is confusing you. This seminar is for you.
If you are emotionally bankrupt with yourself, your spouse and/or your kids. This one is for you.
If you still think tapping is silly, tune in, because this is for you.
Then do tapping on yourself and see the benefits first hand. Put the oxygen mask on yourself first.
Then share the oxygen mask with your kids.
Then be prepared to be astounded.
Click here for my friend, Lindsay, and the benefits she is seeing.
Click here to read about my friend, Sunday, and how tapping has helped her.
Click here for the web page Brad created for us. It has the dial in number and code to attend the seminar.
Did I mention that he is doing this seminar for us pro bono? Because he is. Because he's awesome like that! That's free, folks. :)
Those of you that are being so brave and thinking outside the box. I salute you!
During the day my mind was attempting to come up with a plan to help us. Parenting trauma is not for sissies. We know that but........as parents of our kids, we are cratering now. We are needing help now. We are trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and carry on now. Our spouses sometimes don't get it, family/friends don't get it, our kids pee and poop in the most creative places, rage, spit, jump out of moving vehicles, puke on us, perp on other kids, and a host of other behaviors. Yes, I get that it's the emotions coming out but it sure is hard to deal with day in and day out. Plus we have our PTSD to think about as well.
Knowing how much I loathe and despise being video taped, I went to Kristy hoping I could convince her to let me record her doing a tapping script. Ummmm.... didn't work out so well. She hates being taped even more than me.
So I put on my big girl panties and did a video for all of you fabulous moms. I faced my fears for all of you and did it anyway. Of course there was tapping involved first. :)
Fast forward a few days and imagine my surprise when I received an email from Brad. Not just any Brad. The better than Brad P*tts, Brad. I did 50 happy dances in about 5 seconds. Then I immediately sent texts to Christine and Kristy because I had to share the happy dance with them. Neither of them let me down and they joined me in the happy dance.
In the email, he offered to do a tele seminar for US. Did you hear me? A tele seminar just for US (and awesome dads too) trauma parents. So after a few emails back and forth we have decided on a date.
Thursday, May 3, 2012 at 9 PM EST.
May 3rd is the evening you need to be connected to the internet and be tuned in. You will not be disappointed.
If you've been wondering if tapping is for you, wanting to know more, or gain a little more insight into tapping....this is for you.
If you are burned out, beat down and feel like you cannot give one more ounce of anything to anyone else in your life....this is for you.
If you have questions because this tapping thing is confusing you. This seminar is for you.
If you are emotionally bankrupt with yourself, your spouse and/or your kids. This one is for you.
If you still think tapping is silly, tune in, because this is for you.
Then do tapping on yourself and see the benefits first hand. Put the oxygen mask on yourself first.
Then share the oxygen mask with your kids.
Then be prepared to be astounded.
Click here for my friend, Lindsay, and the benefits she is seeing.
Click here to read about my friend, Sunday, and how tapping has helped her.
Click here for the web page Brad created for us. It has the dial in number and code to attend the seminar.
Did I mention that he is doing this seminar for us pro bono? Because he is. Because he's awesome like that! That's free, folks. :)
Those of you that are being so brave and thinking outside the box. I salute you!
Mark your calendar. Be there or be squarish.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Triangulation
There's a thing our kids do. Divide and conquer. Yes, NT kids do it too but not to the extreme of our traumatized kids. Yes, NT kids do it, but the damage is not severe nor does it have the lasting consequences as it does with our children. We, as parent of trauma, are racing the clock to help our kids heal and to teach them about appropriate attachment.
There used to be a person in J's life that portrayed himself to be J's father. Yet, he always fed into J's poor, pitiful routine. This was the truth for the first 5 years that J was home. It was hard. And frustrating. And it never helped J heal but only amped up her control because she never felt safe. Why would she? If a little kid could divide the adults, how on earth were they supposed to keep her safe. Really?
It was a hard place to be in. Wanting to help J heal and but not wanting to give up this 27 year relationship. I finally started limiting their time together. They were never allowed alone together. I picked my battles. This person had really poor boundaries and it didn't matter how much I tried to educate him, he would never get it. Wouldn't try to get it. And he would feed into the behaviors every. single. time. Ugh. It was ugly and hurtful. My heart broke a little bit each time and I was a little more beaten down.
Several of the accusations went like, "I don't know what you're doing to her that makes her hate you." "What are you doing to make her so mad." "Why can't you just give her what she wants and maybe she'll like you." "What did you do to piss her off." "Well, she likes me." "I never see those things."
And a lot of those accusations were said in front of J. Daggers in my heart. Every one of them. The support was not there. I was lost and standing all alone with a very angry child and he was only rubbing salt in the wound. And J was learning not to trust him. Every time he did it, she listened and learned over and over that he could not be trusted.
We, as parents of trauma, have a very limited window to promote attachment so that our children may heal. Why can't our spouses, significant others, family members, friends, etc. work with us instead of against us.
Marriages crumble when parents do not stand as one. Friendships fall by the wayside. Family members are removed from our lives. It hurts to lose the friendships and family members but when it is the spouse/significant other relationship it is a HUGE problem. The children fall through the cracks and the trauma gets worse. It is not helping our children. It is creating a monumental chasm between the child and the mother when the spouse does not get it. The child may not be able to tell you but they are suffering when the parents do not stand as one.
And the mom stands alone.
And she takes and takes and takes until one day she has to make really hard decisions. Those decisions are never pretty and there will be casualties.
So spouses and significant others, listen to the primary caregiver. Stand with them. Back them up even if you don't agree. You can agree to disagree later (IN PRIVATE) but the primary caregiver needs your support. Your child needs this from you. So step up. Believe them because they know what they are talking about. Build them up and tell them what a great mom they are. Shower them with love and affection in front of your child. Show them what a relationship looks like. They are watching. Later in life they will remember how you treated your spouse and pick one that matches what you do. Are you showing them that you should trust your spouse? Are you worth picking? Are you showing them that they can be safe and relax now? Or are you showing them that you pick everyone BUT your spouse?
Or are you feeding the fear?
Stand together and help your child heal.
Stand apart and the child gets worse and feels in danger all. the. time.
Are you listening?
At lot of events went down last year that were hurtful and extremely painful. This person walked out. J lost the only dad that she had ever known. J made the decision that she did not want him in her life anymore. She was extremely angry that he left her and wanted nothing more to do with him. He changed his mind shortly after but it was too late. She was done with him. I couldn't blame her and I was not going to make her see him if she did not want the relationship and if it would be detrimental to her healing. She is in charge of her heart and who she lets in. After having it crushed 27 times before, the 28th time was just one time too many. I respected her decision and chose to stand by her. Through thick and thin - we are one.
There were huge casualties in the process. Hearts were shattered all around us. It was horrible. Until it got better. Let me just say there was a lot of tapping going on to put the pieces back together.
However, Kristy and I were just talking last week in therapy about how much stronger my relationship is with J because there isn't any triangulation anymore. My daughter did for me what I could not do for myself. She made the decision that it was not alright to break her heart and she wasn't going to allow it again. Then she hit a new level of healing and trust. She feels safe now. I'm just sorry for my part in it and that I let it drag on for so long.
I saw that he wasn't getting it and I should've done something about it. I didn't. My kid did.
J has verbalized many times how scared she was when he would not listen to me and he was listening to her. She was terrified. She has also said that she wanted to see if we were both strong enough to keep her safe. She has specifically told me that he would not be able to ever keep her safe because he would not listen to me about what she needed. I'm kicking myself because I did not make this a reality sooner for J's healing. I hate that I allowed her to be scared for so long.
When you know better, you do better.
If you've been doing these things. Change it. Change it now. Not tomorrow. Right now. Work toward your child's healing. Stand with your spouse. Believe her. She's been beaten down. Build her up.
You're racing the clock, remember? Don't stand in the way of a child's healing.
Stand as one.
Learn from our lessons. I promise it'll be a lot less painful.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
What Is....And Isn't
We were really blessed to have Ms. Kristy as an attachment therapist and that, including all her other training, she was also trained in Tapping. J & I have been tapping since 2007. It has been a gift beyond measure. I have been remiss in sharing how much healing has come from tapping.
What is tapping?
It's also known as EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) and Thought Field Therapy.
It is great for anything but really wonderful for anxiety, trauma, pre-verbal trauma, stress, etc.
Using EFT for kids is so powerful, and it works faster on kids because they don't have a backlog of beliefs built up over years like we do. Guess where most of our unhelpful beliefs came from? Our childhood. Yes, it does work on adults, but generally works faster in kids.
Want less rages??? Tap.
Want less trauma related behaviors? Tap.
Want to give your kid a tool that they can use for their entire lifetime? Tap.
Want your child to be more regulated? Tap.
Want your child to do better in school? Tap.
Want to keep on being a great parent? Tap.
When do you use it? All the time. Practice doing it 3 times a day. You already know if your child has escalated that it's not the time to use it. Practice it when they are regulated. Make a schedule and do it at the same time every day so you can get in the habit. Once they have been doing it for a while they will be more willing to do tapping when they are not regulated. Or not. EFT for kids is so empowering, it gives them the tools to banish their fears, negative beliefs and anxieties, and then in turn, build positive beliefs and success.
It is easy.
It is gentle and works subtly.
What can you use it on? E.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
It is calming and soothing. Do it on yourself for a few days and see for yourself. It is a gift to yourself and your family.
It lowers cortisol levels and stops the fight or flight.
Tapping isn't:
A religion and doesn't interfere with any religious beliefs. In fact, you can even use it to have a strong connection in your faith. Click here for more info.
It is a therapeutic tool. It is not a replacement for therapy.
It is not a one time cure. You need to keep tapping and make it a daily habit. Change up the words for what works for you, your family, your child.
It isn't invasive.
It isn't a drug.
It isn't expensive.
It isn't something you can screw up.
It isn't complicated.
Here's Brad's video on Tapping 101 to answer more of your questions.
Brad Yates has read my mind.....here's a new video on Trauma and Abuse. I'm so doing this on myself and having J do it too.
On being burned out, exhausted and overwhelmed:
Tap. Tap. Is this thing on?
Updating
I'm trying to update my blog links on the right side. If you're not there and you would like to be, let me know. If you are there and would rather be removed, please let me know that too.
I have some big news, like really big and exciting news coming soon. So stay tuned....
I have some big news, like really big and exciting news coming soon. So stay tuned....
Sunday, April 8, 2012
General Tapping for Rad/Trauma
We're a broken record. Sorry. Jordan recorded this tonight. Hopefully some of you will be able to do it before bedtime and the kids can process it while they sleep.
We can be our own worst enemies with our internal dialogue. This is about giving voice to our worst fears and thoughts and letting them go. It's the elephant in the room. They think it, we feel it and no one talks about it. Let the fear have a voice and they will be able to let those negative thoughts go. Fear is driving almost all the behaviors but it's so hard to remember that in the heat of the moment.
We didn't use a lot of "totally love and accept myself's" on purpose because if your kid isn't ready to hear that about themselves it's better to bring it in slowly.
We can be our own worst enemies with our internal dialogue. This is about giving voice to our worst fears and thoughts and letting them go. It's the elephant in the room. They think it, we feel it and no one talks about it. Let the fear have a voice and they will be able to let those negative thoughts go. Fear is driving almost all the behaviors but it's so hard to remember that in the heat of the moment.
We didn't use a lot of "totally love and accept myself's" on purpose because if your kid isn't ready to hear that about themselves it's better to bring it in slowly.
From J (She works for comments, people.) :)
Script: (change to fit your child)
Even tho people in my past taught me that I'm unloveable, my mom loves me
Even tho my heart is broken, my mom can help me heal it.
Even tho I hate doing anything that I'm told to do, my family still loves me.
Even tho I've been hurt so bad for so long that I think I'm completely broken my family loves me anyway.
Even tho I'm terrified that my family is going to throw me away just like everyone else, they totally love me.
Even tho I try to show my family how much I've been hurt by throwing fits, screaming, and raging so they will hurry up and throw me away just like everyone else, they will keep me anyway.
Even tho I try to show my family how bad I am so they will just hurry up and throw me away, they will love me anyway.
Even tho my heart hurts so bad I think it will be broken forever, my parents can help it heal completely.
Even tho I want my mom to know how much I'm hurting and I can't tell her, she knows how much I hurt.
Even tho I push my mom away by hurting her like I've been hurt, she knows why I act like I do and hears my pain.
Even tho I hurt other people the way I’ve been hurt, I can choose to stop hurting others.
Even tho the pain and fear is so great, my mom accepts me right where I am right now.
Even tho my mom knows I'm broken, she is going to keep me forever, even if I decide to never get better.
Even tho letting go of my anger is so scary, my mom will help me if I let her and I can use my words to tell her I'm scared.
Even tho I'm afraid I'm the only one in the world that's been hurt so bad, I know there are other kids, hurt, just like me.
Even tho I'm so ashamed of my behavior that I don't know how to stop, my mom loves me anyway and will wait till I'm ready to heal my broken heart.
Even tho I'm afraid to tell my family I'm scared they will leave me, they love me anyway and will keep me anyway.
Even tho I'm terrified to let anyone in my heart, my mom totally loves me and knows why I act like I do.
Someday I will clear the fear,
the pain,
the hurt,
the anger,
the shame
Maybe I'll choose to clear some today
Maybe I'll choose to clear some tomorrow.
I can keep the pain as long as I want.
Or I can choose to do something different.
Either way my family will still love me even if I don't love myself.
I'm okay just as I am right now.
My mom will wait for me
If I need help my mom will help me if I let her.
I can choose to let mom help me.
Today I might choose to let my heart heal just a little.
Today I might let my mom see my real heart. Just a little bit of my real heart.
Just for today I will let a little pain out and let just a little bit of love in.
I'm okay just as I am and my mom will wait on me to feel safe.
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