When You Finally Learn

If you've been a long time reader of this blog, you know that we adopted two girls just over five years ago. You may also have noticed that I took down many of those blog posts when things got bad. Really bad.

For us, adoption has been a disaster. The girls loath us. Many professionals say that abused kids, such as ours, return to their adopted families in their mid to late twenties. They somehow put together that you were not the cause of all their troubles.

I have no idea if this is true.

What I know to be true is that the human mind is a mystery.

People will treat you however they like...without repercussion.

Broken people are unable to self heal.

And the big one, it's not "if" they will attempt suicide or self-harm, it's "when".

Along this dark and narrow road, I've learned that I'm not the awesome mom I thought I was. I really and truly use to believe that if you mixed all the right ingredients you'd end up with cake. This is not always the case and it's been a rather difficult lesson for me to learn.

Don't get me wrong. I'm okay. I'm just perplexed that my life's work (and if you are a Momma Bear with every pore oozing empathy, meal plans and a schedule, you know what I mean,) has failed.

Failed miserably.

In full self-preservation mode, I've blocked and cut off contact with those who judge a little too harshly. Don't get me wrong...I was a card carrying member of that club for years. Hell, I RAN the club....

Funny how those kinds of things come back to bite you in the butt...

So now, instead of wondering, "Where is that girls' mother!!" I AM that mother. I'm the mom of the troubled girl. The girl who dresses provocatively, the one makin' out with her boyfriend at school, on the street, at a friends' house. I'm the mom of the girl who is struggling in school, who sees a therapist and a psychiatrist. Who goes to Equine therapy. Who takes meds so she can get through the day.

I am that mom and in case you've wondered why THAT mom doesn't clean up her daughter's act, let me tell you:

She can't.

All the begging, crying, screaming, threatening, pouting treatment in the world will not fix her kid. No amount of love or humor or anger, will produce a product that is mentally well.

Some things are just too big to fix.

Understanding all of this is not a bad place to be, not really. Some days are harder than others. Some days I wish I were anywhere but here. Some days she talks to me and I find my little heart hoping it's a good sign, that she actually doesn't hate me, while my brain reminds me that it's just for today, not for tomorrow. Tomorrow will be silence, served with a glare that screams, "screw you!"

My girls are broken. Anxiety filled, abused, battered and confused. They have a snowballs chance in hell of a "normal" life. There is little that I can do, but to redirect, to be positive and honestly, to drink a healthy amount of wine.

If you are finding yourself at the edge, and I know you've been there once or twice, remember a few things:

God, is enough. He can fix what needs fixing without your help.
Do not be so hard on yourself, cut yourself a little slack.
Take time to NOT think about the problem. It'll be there when you get back.
For goodness sake, drink a glass of wine.
Exercise

I won't say sleep, because unless Google has figured out a way to turn off our brains at night, you most likely are not sleeping well. I've decide that a full night's sleep is a fantasy and that's okay too.

I am finally learning that I cannot fix what is broken...And it's okay.