Kai S'anotera
It has been a rough day, but a good one, too.
It started with a meeting with S's new case manager. I have always liked her as a person, but I was admittedly worried about Lisa being moved to her room; she's a bit flaky (based on some interactions we've had in the community not related to our jobs), and her room always feels chaotic and loud. But, S loves her, and so, in that sense, I think it will be a good fit.
Also, she's not contentious or manipulative or likely to evangelize.
I am glad I had my retreat in June; I think I worked out most of my anger at the schools there, but there was some residual stuff left over, because I began to dread this meeting, really dread it, and as usual, I went in with a two page agenda, prepared for a fight.
And she started the conversation by putting a file on the table labeled "communication file," which was very thick, and saying to me, "How can we avoid this? Because I don't want to do this."
I agreed, and we were able to put together a plan to meet once every other week so that I could share with her what was happening at home with me and her college buddies and in therapy, and so that we could discuss interventions her therapist had recommended, in addition to any academic issues.
I said, "In short, the reason that file is so thick, besides the fact that the case manager was evangelizing to my daughter and that her IEP was not being followed, is that I felt I was not being heard. It became important to put things in writing--but it also didn't help."
"I will listen to you," she said, and that was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
And she did. We figured out some ways to manage S's propensity to lose things and get confused about assignments, her high frustration level, her obsessive and other inappropriate behaviors--and other things. When I told her about the reason behind S's ballet obsession, she did not act freaked out as the principal and another potential case manager (who I decided earlier in the week not to use) had acted. It was, all in all, a good meeting.
And then I rushed to pick up S from home and take her to tutoring. We had a half hour to go over what had happened at the meeting, and she was happy with the decisions we'd made and the plans we'd put together.
Then, I left her in my office, thinking her tutor and another college student who had offered to help out in a pinch would be showing up--but due to some miscommunications, neither ever came. So, I rushed off to a series of back to back meetings, and S ended up in my office without supervision for four hours--two is definitely her limit.
Backtracking, S started a new medication that is supposed to release more slowly that her previous one so that she does not do her usual revert-to-age-five-and-sometimes-get-violent act that often occurs between 4-6. I had just sent her college buddy an e-mail saying that I really felt the med was working--after only three days. A little premature, perhaps, because she had the first violent outburst she's had in a long time; it involved hitting and kicking and throwing a couple chairs.
But all of this was predictable, actually. Her college buddies have been busy this week, so she's been shuffled around a lot more. And while she's grown a lot in that her internet use is no longer unsafe, still, she really does need someone to be nearby so she can talk about all the things that outrage her on You-Tube, and so that she does not slip into an obsessive thought pattern.
Predictably, both of these things happened, and I wasn't around. I felt like a terrible mom. And, predictably, she melted down.
But, perhaps not so predictably, she went willingly through a series of consequences that lasted about two hours. She decided what the natural consequences would be for each of her mistakes in the blow up and did them all. She also agreed to give up computer time for three weeks, acknowledging that she needed a break.
She'd been encouraged by You-Tube, as it turns out, to watch several movies about preventing anorexia, likely because she has watched so many about ballet. But S was not ready to see these; they were provocative. And, she'd spent much of her time watching ballet videos and decided to put on the leotard and tights that she had sworn she'd never wear again when we got home, the costume that reminds her of abuse memories and feels unsafe.
I told her I didn't think this was a good idea, but she said, "If you don't like it, leave the room." I set the alarm for an hour and went into the other room--then fell asleep on the couch. Yikes! By the time I woke, she was back on the computer, even though I'd told her not to do so, and she had turned off the alarm. She refused to get off and called me every name in the book, then got violent. But, just as suddenly, she stopped, and apologized, and wrote down what her consequences would be, and did them.
I could be beating myself up about this and probably should be--there's really no excuse for not knowing what's happening with your own child for four hours. But for some reason, I don't feel any guilt. I know it was a mistake, and I'll be more careful next time to make sure people follow up and don't have dates confused, of course--but I don't feel like wasting energy on guilt. A year ago, I would have, and would have obsessed and worried about what this says about me as a mother--but now, I finally have the confidence to say, I'm doing a damned good job, and even though I make mistakes all the time, I am learning from them.
And then, after the consequences, and after dinner, and after the dog walk, of course, S got into the bath and I got on facebook. And that's how I learned (I'm embarrassed to admit) that the ELCA voted to allow GLBT people in committed relationships to be ordained.
I have been involved in this issue since it first came up in 2002, I think it was. I was asked by some local ministers to facilitate discussions about GLBT issues in response to a mandate from the head of the church that each congregation was to do so. But the discussions were canceled because, as they told me, their congregations just weren't ready.
Well, as it turns out, many congregations weren't ready, and the vote when the other way at the assembly the following year. A powerful movie was made about that vote. I used to own it, but I have lent it out so many times that I don't know who has it now, and can't remember its title, but it documented Pastor Anita Hill's ordination in purposeful disregard for the vote. She is one of my heroes, and I can't even think about the movie without weeping.
S came out of the bath. "What are you cheering about?" she asked, and that was when I realized I'd vocalized joy after reading one of the many links that showed up on my facebook update page.
"The ELCA church just voted to ordain gay people!" I shouted.
"Oh," said S, disappointed. "I thought maybe gay marriage became legal in MN." She paused for a second, looking at me thoughtfully. "I'm not going to cheer until that happens."
I didn't think I needed to write about this, but after watching a movie, and getting back online to read some more articles, I realized I wasn't going to fall asleep until I had this down.
There's a saying in Greek, kai s'anotera, which means, essentially, and now, on to even better things. It's said at graduations and other events of achievement--but I think it is perhaps also applicable in situations like the ones we have experienced today, beginning with the meeting with the school and ending with the news from the ELCA.
I'm all for celebrating. I was so moved by the honestly and authenticity at today’s meeting, with S’s ability to realize what she’d done and respond appropriately, and with the many celebrations of the ELCA vote that I've admittedly watched tonight on You-Tube. And yet, my daughter is so right. The vote was so incredibly close, for one thing--we are nowhere near any level of acceptance of GLBT identity among mainline Protestants. And, yes, this vote does not translate to anything civic. Also, we have work ahead of us, both in terms of growing past the violence and of working with the schools. We must celebrate, but we must not rest.
It started with a meeting with S's new case manager. I have always liked her as a person, but I was admittedly worried about Lisa being moved to her room; she's a bit flaky (based on some interactions we've had in the community not related to our jobs), and her room always feels chaotic and loud. But, S loves her, and so, in that sense, I think it will be a good fit.
Also, she's not contentious or manipulative or likely to evangelize.
I am glad I had my retreat in June; I think I worked out most of my anger at the schools there, but there was some residual stuff left over, because I began to dread this meeting, really dread it, and as usual, I went in with a two page agenda, prepared for a fight.
And she started the conversation by putting a file on the table labeled "communication file," which was very thick, and saying to me, "How can we avoid this? Because I don't want to do this."
I agreed, and we were able to put together a plan to meet once every other week so that I could share with her what was happening at home with me and her college buddies and in therapy, and so that we could discuss interventions her therapist had recommended, in addition to any academic issues.
I said, "In short, the reason that file is so thick, besides the fact that the case manager was evangelizing to my daughter and that her IEP was not being followed, is that I felt I was not being heard. It became important to put things in writing--but it also didn't help."
"I will listen to you," she said, and that was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
And she did. We figured out some ways to manage S's propensity to lose things and get confused about assignments, her high frustration level, her obsessive and other inappropriate behaviors--and other things. When I told her about the reason behind S's ballet obsession, she did not act freaked out as the principal and another potential case manager (who I decided earlier in the week not to use) had acted. It was, all in all, a good meeting.
And then I rushed to pick up S from home and take her to tutoring. We had a half hour to go over what had happened at the meeting, and she was happy with the decisions we'd made and the plans we'd put together.
Then, I left her in my office, thinking her tutor and another college student who had offered to help out in a pinch would be showing up--but due to some miscommunications, neither ever came. So, I rushed off to a series of back to back meetings, and S ended up in my office without supervision for four hours--two is definitely her limit.
Backtracking, S started a new medication that is supposed to release more slowly that her previous one so that she does not do her usual revert-to-age-five-and-sometimes-get-violent act that often occurs between 4-6. I had just sent her college buddy an e-mail saying that I really felt the med was working--after only three days. A little premature, perhaps, because she had the first violent outburst she's had in a long time; it involved hitting and kicking and throwing a couple chairs.
But all of this was predictable, actually. Her college buddies have been busy this week, so she's been shuffled around a lot more. And while she's grown a lot in that her internet use is no longer unsafe, still, she really does need someone to be nearby so she can talk about all the things that outrage her on You-Tube, and so that she does not slip into an obsessive thought pattern.
Predictably, both of these things happened, and I wasn't around. I felt like a terrible mom. And, predictably, she melted down.
But, perhaps not so predictably, she went willingly through a series of consequences that lasted about two hours. She decided what the natural consequences would be for each of her mistakes in the blow up and did them all. She also agreed to give up computer time for three weeks, acknowledging that she needed a break.
She'd been encouraged by You-Tube, as it turns out, to watch several movies about preventing anorexia, likely because she has watched so many about ballet. But S was not ready to see these; they were provocative. And, she'd spent much of her time watching ballet videos and decided to put on the leotard and tights that she had sworn she'd never wear again when we got home, the costume that reminds her of abuse memories and feels unsafe.
I told her I didn't think this was a good idea, but she said, "If you don't like it, leave the room." I set the alarm for an hour and went into the other room--then fell asleep on the couch. Yikes! By the time I woke, she was back on the computer, even though I'd told her not to do so, and she had turned off the alarm. She refused to get off and called me every name in the book, then got violent. But, just as suddenly, she stopped, and apologized, and wrote down what her consequences would be, and did them.
I could be beating myself up about this and probably should be--there's really no excuse for not knowing what's happening with your own child for four hours. But for some reason, I don't feel any guilt. I know it was a mistake, and I'll be more careful next time to make sure people follow up and don't have dates confused, of course--but I don't feel like wasting energy on guilt. A year ago, I would have, and would have obsessed and worried about what this says about me as a mother--but now, I finally have the confidence to say, I'm doing a damned good job, and even though I make mistakes all the time, I am learning from them.
And then, after the consequences, and after dinner, and after the dog walk, of course, S got into the bath and I got on facebook. And that's how I learned (I'm embarrassed to admit) that the ELCA voted to allow GLBT people in committed relationships to be ordained.
I have been involved in this issue since it first came up in 2002, I think it was. I was asked by some local ministers to facilitate discussions about GLBT issues in response to a mandate from the head of the church that each congregation was to do so. But the discussions were canceled because, as they told me, their congregations just weren't ready.
Well, as it turns out, many congregations weren't ready, and the vote when the other way at the assembly the following year. A powerful movie was made about that vote. I used to own it, but I have lent it out so many times that I don't know who has it now, and can't remember its title, but it documented Pastor Anita Hill's ordination in purposeful disregard for the vote. She is one of my heroes, and I can't even think about the movie without weeping.
S came out of the bath. "What are you cheering about?" she asked, and that was when I realized I'd vocalized joy after reading one of the many links that showed up on my facebook update page.
"The ELCA church just voted to ordain gay people!" I shouted.
"Oh," said S, disappointed. "I thought maybe gay marriage became legal in MN." She paused for a second, looking at me thoughtfully. "I'm not going to cheer until that happens."
I didn't think I needed to write about this, but after watching a movie, and getting back online to read some more articles, I realized I wasn't going to fall asleep until I had this down.
There's a saying in Greek, kai s'anotera, which means, essentially, and now, on to even better things. It's said at graduations and other events of achievement--but I think it is perhaps also applicable in situations like the ones we have experienced today, beginning with the meeting with the school and ending with the news from the ELCA.
I'm all for celebrating. I was so moved by the honestly and authenticity at today’s meeting, with S’s ability to realize what she’d done and respond appropriately, and with the many celebrations of the ELCA vote that I've admittedly watched tonight on You-Tube. And yet, my daughter is so right. The vote was so incredibly close, for one thing--we are nowhere near any level of acceptance of GLBT identity among mainline Protestants. And, yes, this vote does not translate to anything civic. Also, we have work ahead of us, both in terms of growing past the violence and of working with the schools. We must celebrate, but we must not rest.
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