Chapter 25! In mid-summer, a much talked-about Therapeutic Behavior Camp began on Thursdays. CHC said Child and Adolescent Service Center had agreed to accept Lilly. We were thankful and very hopeful that this additional day camp would prove helpful, because the very name suggested changing behavior. We also knew Child and Adolescent Service Center employed trained childhood therapists who knew what they were doing, so I didn’t think for even one second it wouldn’t be a good thing. The first Thursday she had to be restrained in basket-holds four different times and ran off into the street. The second Thursday I had just arrived home after dropping her off, when I was called to go back and get her because she had attacked three other children. At that point she was ironically expelled from further attendance at Therapeutic Behavior Camp. Every program has its limits though, and the entire world didn’t revolve around Lilly. The very next day I had to do another critical incident report. I called it an “unexplainable behavior day.” She screamed almost all day, threw her glasses, escaped boldly from timeouts, and refused to obey even the most basic house rules. All that followed on the heels of a bad day at the YWCA as well. It was after ten p.m. before she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. I was totally frazzled and exhausted as I put her to bed. As I pulled the covers up to her chest, she asked, “You know why I was bad today?” I looked at her and my brain was too tired to think or guess, so I sighed and asked, “No, why?” She pointed at me and fretted, “Because I’m afraid you’re going to be LOST from me!” I told her, “Lilly, I will not be lost from you. You are stuck with me, but this crazy behavior is wearing me out and makes me tired. If it keeps up, you’ll have to spend a night at the CHC emergency house so I can rest.” I could tell that made her think. Then, for the fiftieth time that day, she said accusingly, “You don’t love me.” After reassuring her all day that I DID, that time however, I said, “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me; guess I’ll go eat worms,” and left her room. Within a few minutes I heard her say, “Mom.” I trudged wearily into her room again and she asked, “Mom, will you rock me before I go to sleep?” I agreed even though I really wanted to get the day behind me and get to bed myself. As we were rocking she put her hands on each side of my head and looked worried. I sighed and asked, “What’s wrong?” Her lips trembled as she said, “I don’t want you to get gray hair and die!” I wanted to tell her (but didn’t) she wasn’t helping me stay young. Often there was a trigger precipitating terrible behavior, such as when another child teased her or there was a lack of structure that surrounding a weekend or holiday. More often than not it was being told “no” by us or a teacher. Sometimes she acted up because she felt unable to succeed at something. For example, we might make plans to take her somewhere on Saturday if she had a decent week. Even though she wanted to go, her subsequent misbehavior would disqualify her for the movie or reward. It happened so often that Bruce decided it best not to tell her until we were ready to leave to go somewhere fun, which really helped. Her feelings of failure often surfaced in connection with any mention of the Wells family. She’d often think about her past failures before an approaching visit with Tina. I coached her not to dwell on it and instead think of playing with Tina. Over that second summer with us she had been able to see Tina almost every week. Ann and I decided that for the first time in eighteen months Lilly might finally be able to handle a visit to their house. She was overjoyed but very nervous on the way there. I told her it would be an “outside” visit only to play in the yard, because we felt going inside would still be traumatic for her. She and Tina played for an hour, and little Sarah (who was then walking) added to the fun. On the way home she was quiet for the first couple miles of the drive, and I wasn’t sure what to say, so I said nothing. After a few minutes she said, “Thank you for taking me.” I tried to engage her and asked, “How did you feel being there?” She thoughtfully responded by saying, “I felt very comfortable being there. I was happy but I was sad. Sad that I don’t live there anymore. They were good parents to me.” Nothing else was said until we arrived home. Then she asked, “Will you rock me?” While we were rocking I told her that I knew she was sad because she didn’t live with her sister, but we were glad she lived with us. Seeming puzzled she asked me, “Why?” “Because we love you and need you to be here with us.” Once again she asked, “Why?” I elaborated a little more, explaining we needed a little girl to love and she was the one. Relaxing more in my arms, she stared at me and her eyelids wearily drooped down as she said, “If I have to move again, I would cry my eyes out. I would cry and cry. It would break my heart.”
Posted on: Mon, 04 Aug 2014 12:23:50 +0000
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