The Face of Trauma

There are many faces of trauma. This is one of them. In sharing our experience, we hope to shed some light on things that the average person has no idea about. It may appear to be a horror story, but it is not. It is about survival and surviving. This is a success story. We have all experienced trauma in our lives. Some more than others, however, trauma is trauma. One person's loss is no more significant in their life than another person. How do we deal with trauma? Everyone is different. The mechanism in our brain that tells us how to respond to trauma is formed by the age of 3. That is right. Everyone's brain is wired for stress in the first 36 months. There are 3 basic ways you can deal with trauma. Fight, Flight or Freeze! This is not a story of Charlotte, but a story of Charlotte and her Mother....that would be me.Charlotte's trauma, became my trauma. We handled it in a very different way. Charlotte's way of dealing with trauma has been pretty consistent. Mine, however, has been all over the place. We were both in very different places in our first 3 years of life. Here are pictures of Charlotte and I, both at age 2. This is one of three pictures of Charlotte that exist before she came to me.

I was held, nurtured, loved and cared for. All my needs were met in a timely manner with loving hands, eye contact and sweet words. Charlotte was cast aside, hated, and neglected. Her needs were seldom met and when they were, it was with a slap, a pinch, no eye contact, and a dirty bottle propped on a makeshift pillow, given with unloving hands and a string of curse word, filled accusations. I was given lots of toys and interaction. Charlotte's toys, given by unknowing family members, were sold for drugs and she had little or no interactions. We both ate macaroni and cheese during our first few years. Mine was served in a bowl after it had been prepared with hands that cared. Charlotte's was stolen from a cupboard and eaten straight from the box in a dark corner of a room. Charlotte had her own room. I shared mine with my sister. Mine had a bed with sheets and pillows and a warm feeling where I was tucked in with a hug and a kiss every night. Charlotte's was cold with a plastic crib mattress on the floor. Her only blankets were the dirty, over sized clothes on the floor and the door was locked from the outside. Charlotte spent days at a time in that room, eating the lead riddled paint off the walls that would poison her blood for so long it would find it's way to her bones. Thank goodness her pets were fed regularly. I had no pets during my first 3 years. Charlotte had MANY pets...not just the mice and cock roaches she loved, but the hamsters, cats, and bunny that shared their food with her. The cats and bunny survived Charlotte's love, but the hamsters, mice and cock roaches did not. When I was 2-3 years old, I was healthy. Other than the fact that my mother always cut my bangs too short, my hair looked shiny and healthy. I was a chubby little girl with rosy cheeks and bright white teeth. Charlotte was a teeny, tiny thing. She was always mistook for being a year younger than she was. At 3, her skin was pale and her hair was dull and flat and her bangs were cut completely off. It fell out by the handfuls. She had no glow to her and, though she smiled often, her eyes were blank. Her teeth were chipped with decay and along with a myriad of other things, she had been diagnosed "failure to thrive". It was during this time in our lives that our brains were forming their neuropathways. My brain recognized trauma, just as Charlotte's did. My trauma, like many other children's, was the soap put in my mouth after repeating a swear word, the worst thing I can remember during my first 3 years. Charlotte's was being put under the kitchen sink and having it tied shut with a shoe string and being left there for "2 sleeps". (I am not sharing some of her worst traumas) The difference is that my brain had formed neuropathways to help me cope with my trauma. I did not think I was going to die from the soap in my mouth. It did not take away from the fact that I knew I was loved. Charlotte's trauma of being put under the kitchen sink became more than her brain could handle, so in order to survive, she tells a very different ending than the one that really happened. In the real story, the womb and vampire came home and let her out. If you hear her tell the ending, she will tell you with extreme dramatization that I came in and rescued her and then beat up the womb and the vampire and brought her to her new home. She needs that fantasy to survive the reality. I just smile at her tale knowing in my heart that if I had only known, that would have surly been the reality!

So how does all this define us? It makes us who we are. Something as simple as picking up a crying baby to meet their need can create a neuropathway, or ignoring the baby's cry as stubbornness can disturb a neuropathway. Dr. Spock, himself, (the one who said, let them cry themselves to sleep) while in his 80's, apologized, saying he had made a grave mistake and had contributed to the fall of a generation. You can not spoil a child on the inside. You can never love a child too much. I think some parents show their love in material ways and that also causes a disturbance in the neuropathways of the brain. The longing is for touch...for eye contact...for love. Did you know when you make eye contact with someone, it stimulates the frontal lobe of the brain and causes all kinds of "flow" in our neuropathways. Babies who got no eye contact, make no eye contact. The stimulation it causes makes for an uncomfortable feeling instead of a connection. I sound like I know my stuff, huh?! Well I don't. Ask Charlotte. When Charlotte came to me just after I turned 40 years old, I was not at all prepared. I had no education in abuse or neglect. I had no idea of the depths that mental illness and drug addiction could take a person. I knew alot about Satan, but had never known of anyone who actually worshiped him outright. Charlotte came to me immersed in these things. I remember my lawyer saying "Don't take this little girl. She will kill you in your sleep." WHAT!!!??? She is 3!! All she needs is love. Well, we were both wrong. Charlotte will never kill me in my sleep, but she needs alot more than love. She needs parents who have an in depth understanding of her brain and who she is. Now I am going to tell you something about me that is not pretty...there have been days, where the thought of dealing with this little girl has almost made me physically sick. That is a hard thing to admit, but it is true. I believe that I am not the same person who turned 40 those 7 years ago. After 11 therapists, counselors, and doctors, admitted failure in their endeavour to help us, I have become hard and unfeeling in some areas. It is that protective mechanism. A woman of strong faith, that loved God more than anything in this world...I walked away from the church (who became divided about my situation) and from my first love, Jesus. How did this happen? Charlotte's trauma, was causing trauma in my own life. Hence the Fight or Flight or Freeze...I chose Flight in some areas of my life and Fight in others. I actually chose Freeze a couple of times, I am sure. People in my life saw how I was changing. My Sweet Hubby, looked at me differently when I was "dealing" with Charlotte. I could see the disappointment in his eyes and knew he was confused by my behavior. He saw someone who was very loving with her sons, both biological and adopted, and just could not seem to connect on a maternal level with this beautiful little girl. This is not uncommon among these situations. Charlotte's voice would change when her Daddy came home. She became sweet, cooperative, and loving. Her face would almost visibly contort to a different being when he left for work every morning. She would spend her days stealing, lying, raging, hoarding, gorging, abusing the dog, destroying any material possession she got her hands on, and making herself bleed using the blood as paint. She would physically attack me to the point of bruises. All behaviors you will find in a traumatized, unattached child. These children are angry, and rightfully so. Before I knew better, I held the door shut on a 35 pound, 4 year old and she pulled that door open in one swoop against all my weight! I flew across her room as the door was pulled open. Rage. It is always formed out of fear. Fear. It is the end result of a child who was not loved. Love. When it is "perfect" it casts out all fear. Has my love for Charlotte been perfect....results tell me no. I was using logic, and consequences with a child whose brain did not have the neuropathways to comprehend them. Well this IS a success story, as I said in the beginning. Many of these behaviors have decreased or stopped. Some remain. Some come and go in cycles. This time of year is especially difficult as the halloween season approaches and "evil" looking decorations come out. She is triggered in her brain. After years, I began to get on my face before God and seek His wisdom. He is not changing Charlotte as I had prayed so many times, for so long. No, He is changing me. He is giving me the keys to unlock my daughter's healing. He is showing me a way to form new neuropathways... those that were not formed during infancy. YES!! The brain can be changed! He is giving me a new chance to be the mother that Charlotte needs...not the mother I thought she needed. Real and perfect love, is being willing to admit you don't know what you are doing and opening yourself up to becoming what the child needs, even if it is the exact opposite of what you thought it was. Love is the key, though it is not enough. Knowledge based in love is enough. "My people perish for lack of knowledge". I thank God for providing us with the knowledge needed to do the work, and the mercy and grace to give this humbled servant another chance. The story is not over. I will share more at another time. Now please go pick up your crying babies.