Immediately when we got home I was asked the question I have been dreading all day....what day are we moving?
I told the boys the move would be delayed again. I couldn't really explain why, because their interpretation of the words I said would become unwarranted anger toward others.
I was met immediately with shutting down. Complete disassociation from one boy. That's how deep disappointment and trauma manifests in him. The other boy was just quiet...way too quiet.
Once I was able to get Middle Boy re-associated with the present he had therapy. It took the entire drive there for me to bring him back to present. I knew in my heart him going to therapy was a bad idea. I briefly mentioned to Therapist L what was going on. She agreed to just help him through the disappointment.
Younger Boy continued his quiet rage the entire time Middle Boy was in therapy.
On the ride home from therapy...all hell broke loose. I don't know another way to describe it. We have been down this road before. I know what to expect. That doesn't mean it doesn't suck and it isn't hard.
Middle Boy had convinced himself not only was it his fault the move is delayed this meant there would be no adoption. He screamed and swore at me. He cried....more than I have ever seen him cry. He screamed about my lack of ability to parent and how I never loved him or wanted him. He tried to figure out who to call to help him. He smashed his phone when he couldn't figure out who could help.
When we got home he continued screaming. He took all of the photos of him in our home and smashed them. Ripped up the pictures.
While I was dealing with him...Younger Boy went into the bathroom and pounded his head against the floor. Pounded his fist against a wall. Urinated all over the bathroom.
As I was calming Younger Boy, Middle Boy ran out of the house....just ran. I had to get the still enraged Younger Boy into the car and go get Middle Boy.
I was able to get everyone calmed down in the car ride home. By this time the guilt phase of survivor brain had kicked in and we were nearly to the point where all they really needed was to make a reconnection with me.
We went home and just sat side by side on the couch...the three of us and Sophie. Both boys emotionally spent and me with tears rolling down my face.
This, my friends, is what frustration and disappointment looks like in our home.
I told the boys the move would be delayed again. I couldn't really explain why, because their interpretation of the words I said would become unwarranted anger toward others.
I was met immediately with shutting down. Complete disassociation from one boy. That's how deep disappointment and trauma manifests in him. The other boy was just quiet...way too quiet.
Once I was able to get Middle Boy re-associated with the present he had therapy. It took the entire drive there for me to bring him back to present. I knew in my heart him going to therapy was a bad idea. I briefly mentioned to Therapist L what was going on. She agreed to just help him through the disappointment.
Younger Boy continued his quiet rage the entire time Middle Boy was in therapy.
On the ride home from therapy...all hell broke loose. I don't know another way to describe it. We have been down this road before. I know what to expect. That doesn't mean it doesn't suck and it isn't hard.
Middle Boy had convinced himself not only was it his fault the move is delayed this meant there would be no adoption. He screamed and swore at me. He cried....more than I have ever seen him cry. He screamed about my lack of ability to parent and how I never loved him or wanted him. He tried to figure out who to call to help him. He smashed his phone when he couldn't figure out who could help.
When we got home he continued screaming. He took all of the photos of him in our home and smashed them. Ripped up the pictures.
While I was dealing with him...Younger Boy went into the bathroom and pounded his head against the floor. Pounded his fist against a wall. Urinated all over the bathroom.
As I was calming Younger Boy, Middle Boy ran out of the house....just ran. I had to get the still enraged Younger Boy into the car and go get Middle Boy.
I was able to get everyone calmed down in the car ride home. By this time the guilt phase of survivor brain had kicked in and we were nearly to the point where all they really needed was to make a reconnection with me.
We went home and just sat side by side on the couch...the three of us and Sophie. Both boys emotionally spent and me with tears rolling down my face.
This, my friends, is what frustration and disappointment looks like in our home.
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