By: Gari Lister
What is a good mom? Here’s how I would answer a questionnaire on how I was a good mom today: I drove my ten year old an hour and twenty minutes each way to skating camp; I tried really really hard to talk to my twelve year old about sensitive pre-teen things I cannot share here; I fed my kids mostly healthy gluten free meals; my house is reasonably clean; I taught my middle daughter how to complete a job successfully; I gave the girls all kinds of brain-strengthening vitamins; and I went to yoga. Ok, maybe I wouldn’t include the last item. But maybe I should.
Showing posts with label self care. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self care. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
This Ain't My Mama's Broken Heart
By: Gari Lister
Four years ago today -- May 17, 2009 – my 17 year old daughter broke my heart and changed my life forever. She packed a bag, told her little sister not to tell us, and ran away from home with a boy she’d met a handful of times – a boy who murdered two people within a few months (literally). I didn’t realize what a pivotal moment it was right away; I thought it was just another episode in a series of Katya crises.
We responded as we always do to crises – efficiently and intensively. Within 24 hours, we rallied the troops: her friends, contacts in DC and in law enforcement, not only locally but also nationally. And in addition to the official channels, we got the local press to run an article, wrote an ad for the papers we thought she might see, and made a flyer. I’m a litigator and strategist and my husband is a press hack who loves networking; when faced with a family crisis, we do not mess around. When the police told us they had tracked the boy’s phone to North Carolina, we put the “littles” (our two younger kids) in the car and drove there with hundreds of flyers. We charmed the local police into giving us local addresses, and we papered the town – each flyer with a hand-written note asking Katya to come home. She came back the following Saturday.
We learned lots of devastating things that week, but one of the hardest for us to understand given our action mentality was the fact that she had told the boy’s family that we wouldn’t look for her or come after her. She thought we had gone through too much for her, and that we would be glad to have her gone.
But we moved on from our inability to understand, and we pretty much went through the next several months in crisis mode: we sent Katya to Outward Bound, which helped for a short time. She fell for another messed up boy, started skipping school, and after three truancy cases dropped out of school and moved out.
And about that time, crisis over, I collapsed, physically devastated from the stress and heartbreak. I spent all winter in bed, too tired to do much of anything. I couldn’t carry luggage for two years, and I couldn’t go for long walks, let alone run. It’s taken me three years and lots of yoga to recover.
So why write this? Because I have recovered, and I am stronger than I ever was. And I have learned two lessons. First, our traumatized kids need us to be strong – not only emotionally, but also physically. We can’t help them if they can kill us. And Katya almost killed me. If she had, where would my other kids have been? So sometimes, the best thing you can do for your traumatized child is go to yoga. Or go run. Or go riding. Anything to keep your body strong enough to handle the stress. Don’t make the mistake I made in all my action – don’t overlook your own oxygen when you’re focused on landing the plane.
And the second lesson is that Katya ultimately ran away – and is still running away – not because of me, not because of the boy, but because she does not believe she is “worth it.” That’s not new – any expert will tell you that – but I think it is a concept that gets lost in all the therapy. My kids know they’re messed up – and if they didn’t, how many times do we remind them (with the best of intentions)? Katya taught me that we have to not only help them heal; we have to also help them believe. And to believe, they need to be fabulous at something -- anything. So now my top priorities aren't only therapeutic -- they're also volleyball and ice skating because those seem to be my girls’ “things.”
Four years ago today -- May 17, 2009 – my 17 year old daughter broke my heart and changed my life forever. She packed a bag, told her little sister not to tell us, and ran away from home with a boy she’d met a handful of times – a boy who murdered two people within a few months (literally). I didn’t realize what a pivotal moment it was right away; I thought it was just another episode in a series of Katya crises.
We responded as we always do to crises – efficiently and intensively. Within 24 hours, we rallied the troops: her friends, contacts in DC and in law enforcement, not only locally but also nationally. And in addition to the official channels, we got the local press to run an article, wrote an ad for the papers we thought she might see, and made a flyer. I’m a litigator and strategist and my husband is a press hack who loves networking; when faced with a family crisis, we do not mess around. When the police told us they had tracked the boy’s phone to North Carolina, we put the “littles” (our two younger kids) in the car and drove there with hundreds of flyers. We charmed the local police into giving us local addresses, and we papered the town – each flyer with a hand-written note asking Katya to come home. She came back the following Saturday.
We learned lots of devastating things that week, but one of the hardest for us to understand given our action mentality was the fact that she had told the boy’s family that we wouldn’t look for her or come after her. She thought we had gone through too much for her, and that we would be glad to have her gone.
But we moved on from our inability to understand, and we pretty much went through the next several months in crisis mode: we sent Katya to Outward Bound, which helped for a short time. She fell for another messed up boy, started skipping school, and after three truancy cases dropped out of school and moved out.
And about that time, crisis over, I collapsed, physically devastated from the stress and heartbreak. I spent all winter in bed, too tired to do much of anything. I couldn’t carry luggage for two years, and I couldn’t go for long walks, let alone run. It’s taken me three years and lots of yoga to recover.
So why write this? Because I have recovered, and I am stronger than I ever was. And I have learned two lessons. First, our traumatized kids need us to be strong – not only emotionally, but also physically. We can’t help them if they can kill us. And Katya almost killed me. If she had, where would my other kids have been? So sometimes, the best thing you can do for your traumatized child is go to yoga. Or go run. Or go riding. Anything to keep your body strong enough to handle the stress. Don’t make the mistake I made in all my action – don’t overlook your own oxygen when you’re focused on landing the plane.
And the second lesson is that Katya ultimately ran away – and is still running away – not because of me, not because of the boy, but because she does not believe she is “worth it.” That’s not new – any expert will tell you that – but I think it is a concept that gets lost in all the therapy. My kids know they’re messed up – and if they didn’t, how many times do we remind them (with the best of intentions)? Katya taught me that we have to not only help them heal; we have to also help them believe. And to believe, they need to be fabulous at something -- anything. So now my top priorities aren't only therapeutic -- they're also volleyball and ice skating because those seem to be my girls’ “things.”
Friday, February 8, 2013
It Doesn't Hurt to Laugh
By Anna Paravano-FriseOk, let’s face it:
“Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.” (Hershey’s)
Kind of like that nutty guy on the ceiling in the movie “Mary Poppins” who sang, “I love to laugh!” I really do love to laugh! I love anything and anyone that makes me laugh. BC (Before Child), I really bought into the notion that “laughter is the best medicine.” Life can be such a serious business so I made it a point to watch comedies and comedians as a way to release stress, fight depression, or simply have fun. Yes, I loved a good drama but when times got tough, I used laughter as one of my coping mechanisms.
Science tells us laughter is a good way to change our body chemistry – literally “changing our minds,” if you will. Adding some levity to our lives can actually improve our health and the overall quality of our lives. So, laughter was one of the really basic and cheap ways I found to take care of myself in the down times.
Since becoming a therapeutic mama to a traumatized child, opportunities to laugh, joke, etc. came few and far between.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Attachment -- Barbie Style
By Gari Lister
Our attachment therapist a long time ago suggested that if my girls had a difficult time with my massaging and touching them, I could have them rub lotion on me. Well, I started out with lotion, but I have three girls so . . . the lotion turned into nail polish, and the nail polish turned into hair styling, and the hair styling turned into makeup. Every so often, one of my little girls runs into the bathroom and runs out with a lotion or a blush or a handful of hair accessories and gives me a hopeful look.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Maybe I can't be 1st -- but how do I get on the Waiting List?
By Anna Paravano
I’m going to be completely honest here. Whenever I go to a presentation, participate in a discussion group, or talk to a psych, and someone says, “Remember, you have to put the oxygen mask on yourself first before you put it on your child,” I just feel like decking them. In truth, my first thought is, “Do you even have kids?!?!” and then I want to deck them.
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