A RAD DAY
by Lisa
My daughter is having a RAD day. Not a bad day, mind you, but a RAD day. She has just calmed herself from screaming, and if I go near her, she will hit me and scream some more.
Why does she do this? She is scared of me. I have not abused her, and yet she is scared because I am the mom... and moms are EVIL.
Whoa, that's pretty messed up, ain't it?
Take a walk with me, in her shoes.
Her mom was alcoholic when she was born. She already had two boys, one with serious problems. Mom was low-functioning, having been beaten by all the men in her life. She knew nothing other than abuse. She had given up on stopping the abuse and just let it happen - to herself and to her children. She had given up on life.
C was born into a family where the daddy and the uncle beat the mom and kids. She was in a family where daddy brought home his drunken co-workers to gang-bang the mommy against her will - on the kitchen table in front of the kids. But this was before she could talk. She was raised in stench and smoke... in booze... in abuse and hunger... and in pain and neglect.
She was often removed from her home to stay in hopsitals - in croup tents. When she cried... nobody answered. Mom didn't feed her, change her, pick her up when she needed affection. Strangers did these things - the strangers at the hospital.
Then she was taken somewhere else to live, a place with many children and her "parental units" were "staff". She didn't have one mommy and one daddy - the staff cared for her.
She moved again, to a family with one of her brothers. She had a loving mommy and a loving daddy again. And just as she was starting to live and grow and develop an attachment, she was ripped out of that loving home and moved away to a new home, with two new sisters and two new brothers and nothing was familiar except her dolly.
She longed for the familiar sounds of home - sounds of screaming and crying, yelling and breaking. She longed for the familiar touch of a hand slapping her face. She wanted the familiar odors of feces and urine. And yet she wanted to be held, to be coddled, to be talked to - the way the strangers did when she was little. That was home to her. That is what she sometimes fights for.
Sometimes, she hopes for a new family, one like her foster family, where they feed her candy and pudding every night and never discipline her, and give her toys, and coddle her daily. She has created a delusion of this family as perfect - the Brady Bunch, if you will.
Sometimes she forgets that her brothers didn't live there, either. She forgets that they did have rules. She also forgets that she has a loving mommy, a loving daddy, two loving sisters, two loving (albeit obnoxious) dogs, her friends, her school, her teachers, her sports, and her grandparents. She sometimes forgets that family is good. But to her, family is fleeting. Families fail. Mommies leave and daddies hurt. This is her reality.
She is nine years old and I am her fourth mommy. She lost two daddies and two brothers. And sometimes it gets to be too much for her and she lashes out. When she does, please understand. When you hear her scream, please don't come to my door and threaten to kick my teeth in. Call the police if you're worried. Because your rumours, your threats, and your judgements aren't helping this little girl. If you care about this child, please, help her understand that her family does love her and is forever.
If you still think I'm an awful parent, then adopt a child out of the system, or foster a kid like this. Because these kids need the best, most loving, and strongest parents out there.
I'm not the best, I'm not the most loving, and I'm not the strongest - but I'm the best she's got right now.
Please don't try to take that away from her.
