It's about Forgiveness.

The practice of forgiveness is our most important contribution to the healing of the world.                           Marianne Williamson

Don Henley has been haunting my  head with these lyrics for the past 4 days.
"I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness."

In this years multitude of resolutions, my quest to continue in my practicing gratitude (my inspiration being glorious Alicia), I added a bugger of a challenge. To also actively practice "Forgiveness aka the art of letting things go"...and good crap I apparently don't like to do that, (NOT-AT-ALL) I like to hoard my feelings for a rainy day, so when that day comes all the misery of my life can be played again and again like an old time slide show. Equip with a trusty side of junk food, my pity parties indulge my entire need to self destruct including Doritos, Ben and Jerry are invited, and of coarse my trusty sweat pants, protecting myself by putting the world between me and my bed covers. I revel in my hurt and roll around in it for a while. Healthy, right? Yup, that's me,  work-in-ever-lovn'-progress.

If I have any chance at all of helping my children heal, learn these arts and practices of both gratitude and forgiveness, my arse better be in shape,so as much as I sucktasically fail at doing much of either thing I am 'trying' to practice that of which I teach. UGH.

 So I went to Vegas.
Cause you know it's the place to go for Inner Peace and absolution, right?

 But I really did, with my two baby (*cough* they prefer "younger") brothers in tow to visit our biological Father.

You see, we for a short time were raised by both him and our mother, together until their marriage collapsed with us three at ages of 7,6,and 3 caught in the cross fires. It was ugly, hard and difficult for everyone involved, much like many children of divorce and broken homes could testify. He moved far, far away and visits were limited.  I know our story is not rare, there a specifics too private to share, but lets just say in the wake lay trauma, lots, and lots of trauma.

Do I ever question my parents choice to divorce? Never. I wouldn't be the person I am with out every exact moment that has led me and my siblings to who we are...and not to toot, whoot, or blow my own horn, but we three are fantastic people.

We have shared losses, and trauma, protected one another from abuse and taken the brunt in turn. We came out on the end of a childhood and adolescence together scared and world wise, but most of all together. For the most part, despite our Fathers best of intentions, he was unable to protect, be a part of or emotionally support much of our growing up years, you see as his right was, he started life a new, with a new wife and children. There is still pockets of loss I have felt in lacking the relationship I wished I could have had. Cynically rolling my eyes at the song "Butterfly Kisses", hating movies with "Father/Daughter" tear jerking scenes...because being angry at them, thinking them sappy and ridiculous, covered my pain, and yes, even jealousy towards our Father and his other family.

As the years have passed, visits had been on behalf of Funerals, and occasional Weddings.Then as a grown woman and adult, in my own marriage, and motherhood set in, I began to let the loss create anger, and judgement, hiding the hurt, of what I felt he was missing, the best parts of me,within my children.

I gave that hurt and resentment free rent inside part of my heart for years.
As I have grown older (oy) and wiser (debatable) , I have learned, in order to fit certain things in your heart you have to kick out some of those old tenants that are no longer doing anything for you but messing things up and making way more noise than peace.

So after a bi-annual phone call on Fathers Day, I shocked myself into an idea, a sibling trip to visit my Father and Step Mother....just.us.three.kids.
and so we did.

It was special, he made so many efforts to ensure we had an incredible time. No huge life altering conversations, but time was spent, laughter was present, healing took place. Boundaries were kept.
I think sometimes we confuse "letting things go", forgiving as forgetting and putting ourselves at harm. That is the beauty of boundaries, they are the catchall for how far it is safe for us to go without getting hurt.
Much like my INSANE, debilitating fear of heights (imagine crying, puking,shaking mess)...we went to the new bridge over Hoover Dam, the height is indescribable...I had the option to walk on the bridge or wait, tentatively. I decided to "do it", BUT, 90% of the time I held onto  the outside wall holding fast to the concrete side where I could not see the distance between me and the bottom. Only when breathing deep and making the decision to cross did I, and when I was ready returning to the safer, more stable side, and on that day, I let go of some of that debilitating fear, on my terms.


Within my boundaries, I accepted the relationship my Dad has to offer with open arms, letting in that redefine my expectations and past hurts that were mucking up any hope of anything healthy. I moved much out of my heart this weekend, and surprisingly the old resentment of "what it can't and won't ever be", made room for someone new, "acceptance for what is".I think I may let them stay.

In that same apartment building in my heart, there are some other rascally tenets that are having an eviction notice signed as we speak. Sometimes our forgiveness needs isn't for one specific individual, but an experience, and all encompassing 'thing' that slowly eats us up, and knocks us around a bit. For me this 'thing' has been the Quintessential of the early 1990's "Guns and Roses" hotel guests of my heart. My inability to safely bare and deliver children naturally.

You know me the freaky, all natural, organic when possible,essential oil using, free ranging my chickens in my suburbian backyard chick....well I am having to learn to forgive myself, my body,the Universe and even God for not allowing me the gift and experience of safe, natural pregnancy and child birth. It is something I have mourned and been so very sad over. I may sound like a gluttonous-baby-hoarder, good crap I have 10 children, Right?!? I should shut my ever-living-yapper. Understand I have so much gratitude for ALL of my babies,and the beautiful ways they have entered my home. But, truths, of truths, as many true honest adoptive mother would tell you. I wish I had been able to give birth to each and everyone of my children, sparing both them and I loss and pain.At times I wish I alone could carry their story with them, from the beginning. Selfish? Maybe, but after multiple, and I mean M-U-L-T-I-P-L-E, miscarriages and pregnancy losses, I still do sometimes wish I had the sacred opportunity to carry and give life without hoards of I.V's, feeding tubes, constant stress tests/Ultra Sounds, though those modern day things saved both me and my children's lives repeatedly.  I wanted an at-home water birth, with a Doula and Midwife. I ended up with hoards of Dr.'s and Nurses, tubes every where and two miracle babies of myself and my husband, and eight Miracle babies of other warrior women, whom I am blessed to share our children's stories with.


 In this forgiveness for myself, and absolute belief that women in their beauty and strength to create and sustain life, should have the right and option to have the birth experience they wish to have (the one I was denied due to my high risk) I am seeking my healing by becoming what I lacked. My passion for natural childbirth, respecting and advocating a mothers wishes has evolved in my passion to become  Doula certified.
As this journey of healing, and wonder of the amazing, AMAZING power of women and creation, being allowed to be apart of that heals parts of my loss, crying with them, soothing their pain, creates light in places dim with resentment. Amazingly as winding as this journey is, in the next three days, I will be helping my Baby Faiths Birth-mother give birth to her next child.
Beautiful aint it?

Forgiveness is a Gift, oddly the receiver is 100% you.

The heart of the Matter is simply that. Loving yourself enough to let go...and receive with both arms wide open.

Soul Cancer

Tonight as I bake cupcakes at mid-night for Bugs play ( because isn't that when most sane people bake cupcakes.) I started thinking, and then the thinking got passionate, and then while my confections baked...I decided to word vomit up the feelings I keep on pushing down...AND HERE YOU HAVE IT...

lucky you.

In our community there is something so heart breakingly tragic going on with a teen girl that we know and love personally. She is an AMAZING, talented BEAUTIFUL young woman, that is such an incredible leader and example to the youth in our area, just last year this girl organized a dance for relay to life, because she was inspired. One year later she has been struck down with a debilitating disease, that has been touch and go daily for weeks and weeks. I and our family pray so much for her daily. It has been such an incredible opportunity for my kids to work on building compassion. Through service, they have helped me plan and put together freezer meals, recommending their favorites. I love this girl and her family.

And as I read another update and saw so much love and support and amazing rallying behind this angel of a girl....I got jealous.

Yep, I did.

Not that ANY of the support, love and prayers that have been showered upon this sweet wonderful girl are not incredible, I continue to add my own, it's just that I began thinking about our battles last summer, with our teenage daughter...and my heart started to hurt.

You see, losing Papillion was hush, hush. The 10 hospitals, multiple suicide attempts, all of the pain, and scares, and scars, all of the visits, and hopes up, and then dashed were weathered alone.
When she finally disappeared from our home and community, there were no questions asked, no prayers of support, no phone calls...she just materialized into thin air...because well, we just don't talk about mental illness now do we?

It was the loneliest thing I have ever been through, with very little validation out side of other trauma parents...I get the “People don't know what to say.”....but even if they just saying THAT...”Linds I am so sorry I don't know what to say" would have been something...instead of avoiding me in the hallways at church, or changing direction when come face to face with me in the grocery aisle.Or completly stop being my friend...
Mental health is so isolating, but it is time in 2012, for it not to be...really.

If my daughter had, had Cancer, broken both legs, even terrible asthma, we could talk about it, and everyone would nod their heads sympathetically, ask questions, offer prayers, help, love...
But when it is a cancer literally eating away at someones soul, future,emotional health...when it is a broken brain, when your child can't take a full, deep breath because trauma has stolen it, well, that is something put in a corner, whisper and generally not ever bring it up.....and I.want.to.know.WHY?

It's not like everyone on this planet has never known someone that has not suffered from abuse, depression and even post pardum...we all know someone...whether it be a former soldier that gets skidish around loud noises, an Uncle that gets angry faster than needs be, a sister, Aunt, Grandmother or Mom that has quirky things she has to do, for “things' to be alright...getting hurt, being a little messy in the head, is part of the human condition we don't talk enough about, and we need to.

Medically in the last 100 years we have made leaps and bounds in the physical needs and healing of our bodies...but what about our brains? Our souls? There isn't enough demand, because no one is standing up and saying THIS, THIS NEEDS WORK, this need to be fixed, THIS needs to be a bigger priority than magic diet pills. It is not happening fast enough, it is not being prioritized.

I agree some amazing, AMAZING work and books have been written in the name of R.A.D., P.T.S.D, O.C.D and all around trauma and the effects of it...but why? Why is is so much easier for a parent to get a 504 for a child with A.D.H.D. That is hyperactive and struggles concentrating, than a child with severe trauma and behavioral and attachment challenges?

one word, shame.

Our shame as parents being judged for our kids behavior, or that we "did" this to them, our fear and shame as a community, that if all start talking about our emotional and mental health, that judgment will be passed. No one judges someone with Cancer, “well obviously they weren't doing something right.”

That does not happen, why? Because what they have is physical, and obviously not anybody’s fault.

BUT, Nor is what happened to my child...Or to me for that matter.

My name is Lindsay. I am parenting children with severe trauma, anxiety, depression, psychotic tendencies, suicidal ideation, addictions, bulimia, anorexia, ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder,Hording, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and they are surviving by the skin of their teeth, everyday. Their diseases are devastating, everyday is an Emergency room of Soul Triage, deciding which “bleeder”/trigger must be dealt with first.

My children have soul cancer. Their illnesses and struggles are not their fault or a result of my poor parenting. The statistics are stacked against them. There are not nearly enough resources, well trained Dr.'s, or therapists around to suffice...but we are fighting this with everything we 've got, and not quietly. I am not going to be ashamed with or for my children's needs and

illnesses. I am going to talk about them, I am going to get the word out.

And hopefully someday the help, that will heal them, and other kids like them...because when we don't shout, and demand, and talk about what needs to be done, without shame, without fear of judgment, that is when the possibility to be heard and have change can really come...

Beautiful Surrender

I want to massage my face with a fork.

This is the first thing I said to my husband as I crawled into bed tonight.

Some things I don’t talk about very often (cough *ever* cough)…
I have Lupus.
It is a chronic Auto Immune Disease that I battle with daily. Every second. Every mil-a-second. (Is there such-a-thing?)

Apparently I was born with it, that and a hole in my heart. So when the Dr. was explaining to my very young mother…that her 4 lb. pre-mature baby girl, with blue legs, also has a hole in her heart, and her blood cells are killing themselves off…she was told to “just hold me.” That on the off chance that I survived, I would never be normal…..

BOY WERE THEY RIGHT!

and so my battle began. I was born with my dukes up, a can-do attitude, that at times teeters on the brink of “nobody tell me that I can’t, cuz I will friggn’ prove you wrong every time.
NOTE: This Rock hard  stubbornness has come back to bite me in the-you-know-what at times. ( Like when my O.B. shook his head when I was 18 and told me “No children for you, it would be too high of a risk)
Tsk, Tsk, Tsk….yeah I won that argument…   :0/


ANYwho short re-cap….Lupus, me, stubborn, beating odds/me being totally retarded…literally.

From day one my Immune system was next to nothing,I had a hole in my heart, 4 lbs., severe learning disabilities,traumatic childhood including much abuse, multiple moves and family changes, 10 new schools...
#notgreatodds

and she is making it people, she is.

The one thing,(maybe two things) I have learned in the making of me is not being afraid to be vulnerable, and learning to surrender. Me, yes me the girl that beat, and continues to beat the odds, personally, in my marriage, and even in my adoptions and health...that is the secret to winning this battle...knowing the flaws and weak spots in me, and learning to love them, LISTEN to them, and make them stronger with acceptance and so very much tenderness.

Last weekend I took my oldest baby girl at home for a Birthday swim. It was splendid. I soaked in the sun, I drifted aimlessly in the lazy river (In my next life I am so having one of those surround my house. (Lazy River/ some-might-call-it-a-Moat, Potato/Patoto)
I giggled with her and talked boys as we waited in line for the "Totally Tubular" Slide...

......and I stayed in the sun too long. It isn't that I didn't load on the sun screen, it is that with Lupus, I have extreme sun sensitivity...so since last Saturday, I have developed a blazing, bumpy, nasty full body rash.
It is miserable. I am paying the piper for my day in the sun. This rash is all over my face, behind my ears, in the creases of my eyelids...to say it SUCKS would be an understatement. I want to take sandpaper to my skin.

I am not a super vain person , BUT...looking like this, not being able to wear an ounce of make-up, or lotion..is HARD for me.
In the past, I was able to hole up for a week or two, after the Family Reunions, or whatever I tended to over do at...but this week my kids had major practices for a show they were cast in.
This weekend I had reserved for a Yard Sale so we could fund a new swing set for my kids.

I had no "opt out button".

Me, with my nasty, swollen face, faced 100's of people today and joyfully took there money and thanked them...me with toad skin walked into the grocery for more Ice and Doughnuts for my kids to sell for tomorrow.

...and I talked to my kids about it all of the way. Verbalizing "THIS IS HARD FOR ME, I feel weird about how my face and body look, but I am doing it anyway.Now because my body needs it, I have to cleanse out the toxins and eat very clean food, now Mama is gong to have to take her rest when you all do so Mama's body can heal just like you take your rests for your brains."

and they shared too...what is HARD for them, what they see they need to be gentle with, what they see in them might need to be surrendered, and it was so very, very good....

Love,
Me, the no make-up, bumpy beautiful me.
P.S. Now you, go love on some of those bumpy/beautiful parts in you....

“Hey I’m making friggn’ Lemonade here people!”

So things over here are.not. easy.
and THAT is the understatement of the century.

Some of the things that across the board I have heard when struggling with attachment disorders  is the crap-tastic way holidays and birthday affect our children.
Shame, jealousy, anxiety...with a heaping side of Birthday cake.
Toss in a lil' sabotage, control, destruction, tantrums…yep, it’s a regular party.

In-between Papillion’s birthday. The traumaversary of her leaving our home, Fathers Day, and today, Bug-Bugs birthday..it has been “wicked awesome Yo”.

Mostly wicked.

Bugs birthday last year, ended in Papillions ride to the E.R…so ya know, really trying to squash that memory.
Things we are learning to do different.

The ‘fun’ things that everyone can enjoy, like special meals, we continue to implement.
If an activity is being sabotaged, a sitter or parent will be available to remove said kiddo so revelry is not interrupted, in extreme cases, just the celebrated child will go. I tend to protect special days like a swat team member. Bugs in lieu of gifts is having me take her to a local water park on Saturday, and we went shopping for a new swim suit yesterday.

It has been said "the best gift we can give our children is time", and lets bump that up a notch, the BEST gift we can give out children is time away from crazy,and letting them feel special.

When we give individual gifts on birthdays or "special days" our family, for the time being, we have everyone one, by one, bring the gift in and have a separate gift giving experience with their siblings, or parent. Without the other gifts being exposed or shown off to everyone. This making the gift giving being what it should be about, the giver and the receiver, and those that do not want to participate, don't have to. There have been some very special moments because of this new tradition.

Implementing this seems to limit excessive anxiety, resentment and anger that someone else is having a special day. As well as prevents inventory being taken of gifts, and plans being made of destruction or disappearing acts.

  Which is a VERY common thing 'round here.

Today, because big feelings are flying around here like a hive of freaking tracker-jackers we danced all.day.long. Moving in and out of behaviors instead of feeding them.

This morning when I realized a hand wash only shirt that had been washed and was hanging to dry had a new lovely little (massive) yellow stain (that aint no Lemonade) I called Cookie in and asked him to wash it, “I didn’t pee on your favorite shirt!!!!”

“Not saying you did sweetheart, but gosh I could use some help and since we are re-filling up the Laundry sink, lets add 11 other things that ‘can’ be hand washed and dried.”

Wha-lah, double clean shirt, bra’s, leotards, swim suits…and mommy didn’t loose her $#*@,

Lemonade.

My favy-fav today, the windows that were spit on in a rage of , whom got the most peanut-butter syrup….

Yup, you guessed it, just so all the windows matched …all the windows in the back got washed….

Lemonade.

I found a new bottle of Pomegranate body wash, opened and dumped in my bath tub. There stood dude, with a 200-watt grin, “I did that.”

Punk .

Instead of losing it, yelling and sending him to his room, I squealed “EXCELLENT IDEA! Mommy did need a bubble bath, lets get my favorite oils and add them in too! Want to join me in my tub?”

A very grumpy little boy answered “NO STUPID HEAD.”

So he took a nap, and I tucked him in lovingly…and then I took a luxurious bath.

Wha-lah Friggn’ Lemonade !

Sometimes I get sick of Lemonade, but the thing is…keeping that glass half full of something, is better than nothing….right?!?

Right?!?

"Is it always going to hurt this much?"

I think we all wonder that sometimes.
Sometimes I think the answer is "yes, it is always going to ache, hurt, feel raw, and pulse with new pain with each breath taken"...but then time does her thing...

I wish she would get on with it, hurry it up, get it over with (time I mean), me, I am not a big fan of hurt, mourning, pain and loss. In fact I hate all of it, I have more important things to do with my energy and with my time. Ironically, I have learned if I don't give the pain, the loss, the sadness their time, they stick around longer.

Dang-nabit they do.

Today is my oldest childs birthday. Papillion. She is not with us. I didn't get to make her breakfast, no cake was baked, no presents wrapped. My heart physically hurts today. Fortunately I do have the gentle mercy of Bugs having both a matinee and show this evening that I am in charge of concessions for, to keep my hands and body busy...

At this point I should be a champion at loss. I mean, if anyone should be 'good' at it, I should...but no matter my veteran experience, at losing best friends,a serious boy friend, and my very own children to death and miscarriage....losing a live child, that is still living and breathing is a constant barrage on the heart. THERE ARE NO WORDS FOR THIS KIND OF LOSS. There are no cards made by Hallmark, no ceremony, and most of all very little understanding for the loss of someone not mentally healthy enough to live inside your home. And still there has yet for me to never have felt something as deep and lasting, with no closure, and still constant possibility of fear and pain...this kind of loss is endured everyday..

I spoke with her today. Wishing her "Happy Birthday" as her voice broke on the phone, I told her I loved her and was so grateful for this day that brought her into this world. She wouldn't give me an address to send her anything, but via speaker phone she spoke with each one of her siblings, tearfully saying she loved them and missed them.

In three days we will come to the one year anniversary since the last moments she was in our home.
The memory is thick. I think we all feel the weight, yet as I look around between today, and those days and months following Papillion no longer being safe enough to be in our home, I know time has indeed done what she needs to do.

A year later the rawness has gone. The ache beats steadily with my own heart beat, I doubt that will ever go...but today I laughed out loud, today I hugged my other children, with out holding back a piece of myself. I didn't have to mentally talk myself out of bed and through my days like I did those first weeks.
Today I told her I loved her, and meant it, missed her, but was able to hang up the phone and move on in my day.

So I guess to answer that question, yeah, my knees always ache when it rains, and whenever I see a butterfly, I miss her....

"It's O.K. to say you hate her...."

"It's even O.K. if you mean that right now with all of your heart....in fact shout it, shout that you hate her, and you are mad, tell me how you are feeling, and no for goodness sakes, you do NOT have to be nice about it."


and Bugs and Peanut butter stood there, sad faces about to break into wicked grins....thinking "is Mom for real?"

and I am.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in theraputic crap...I have to wear the Big Girl panties...I forget that my other healthier kids are NOT required to do so. Yes, I coach them on how not to allow their said brothers and sisters to get a rise out of them...or said children would be pummeled regularly. But, they much like their traumatized siblings are victims also to the crazy. They witness it too. They hear the tantrums, see an exhausted Mommy miss out on fun while calmly (O.K. grumpy and resenting this $#!*  half the time) help a dis-regulated child get regulated.
They too wait in the car, until it is safe to drive again, they too miss out on things occasionally when brother or sisters are not capable of coping with a situation.

It sucks. worse, is when I see them swallow that bitter pill because they are "expected" to be "the good kid"...and put up with the Bull-honkey.

HECK NO!

Yes, I reward, I 'try' to make up, or do do-overs when things and opportunities have been damaged for them ....but some of this stuff can NOT be replaced. Nor can what they are learning, which I am proud of, the empathy , less judgement and patience all of my children are learning are lessons heavily paid, but ones I am grateful for. Still I really pisses the ever-livin'-shkagouskeys out of me when I see them being affected by my other childrens illness and disorders. And my goodness they are ALLOWED to have feelings about it!!!

Heck I know I do! (every blink'n second of every freaking day)

So.

What I want you to know, blog-reader-good-budy-O'-mine...I't's O.K.

It's O.K. whether it is YOU, your other kids, your spouse, life partner, the friend, or family member that is missing spending time with you...IT IS O.K. to feel angry/pissed/lonely/short-sticked... IT IS EVEN O.K. for just a little moment to HATE how HARD and SUCKY being around a mentally sick person is.


Then when you are ready, bring the kindness back in.
Even if the kindness is, feeding them, taking care of basic needs, providing a safe place, food to eat, not allowing them to be harmed or cause harm. As my incredible friend Laura once reminded me, THAT is loving them too.That is loving them in ways no one else did, could or would....and THAT means YOU are a rock star, your kids and spouse are ROCK STARS....andy one willing to "do life" with you...that's it, ROCK STARS.

Sooo just so you know....


and when you, or 'they' need too...
"It's O.K. to say you hate her....""It's even O.K. if you mean that right now with all of your heart....in fact shout it, shout that you hate her, and you are mad, tell me how you are feeling, and no for goodness sakes, you do NOT have to be nice about it."

and then you know, when you are ready, get back on that horse little darlin'.

To Whom it may concern,

Dear Neighbor,Aunt, Uncle or even Grandparent, well meaning friend, or church congregation member.
Dear Check out lady, School Parent,Therapist, or regular Joe or Jane off the street,

If we have met, or haven't. If you feel you know me, or knew me, or just first glimpsed me for the first time today, you do not know this burden I am carrying. You can not begin to understand or see the weight of what is my life and responsibility you can not feel that which is the weight of everything that I do, say, speak and breathe.  And that is not your fault, because silly me, I don't trust you to handle it, understand it or accept truly the reality in which we balance everything on.

You see my child has Reactive Attachment Disorder. You can google it. You can read books about it,there are even fabulous you tube video's out there that will scare the crap out of you if you have the time...however, if you don't live with it, if your everyday in not affected by the amount of energy it simply takes to get through a day, then please I ask one thing. The benefit of doubt.

Let me give you an example:
Today a family might have gardened together,  worked hard in their yard, with everyone collaborating and working together. Sure there were squabbles that were dealt with therapeutically, granted these squabbles probably to the outside world would seem "normal", had they not happened nine thousand times....but were redirected and got though the day successfully, with the reward for going out for Ice Cream.

Tonight , after Dinner, baths, pajamas's, might be loaded with the crew of children going out for small courtesy cones, through a drive through.
One very bright child might make sure they were front and center in the back seat , therefore the one that would be asked to hand out the cones. Noting that the mother would be sure to assign the cones by name as she passed them back to be handed out.
Said child might not like that, specifically now they did not get to control of whom got which cone. As they noted the cone they considered the biggest be handed to someone else (they ALL were the same size) a freak out and shut down occurred....
A well adjusted child you may say , might get weepy, or perturbed, or pout, they might even  be "difficult:", a child with a trauma background however, might unbuckle their seat belt, start wailing at the top of their lungs, lose their Ice Cream due to unsafe practices, try to bite and claw their Mother while car is in transit, have the car pulled over, and walk 8 blocks screaming , while mother follows close by, and Father and other children quietly wait in the car for the storm to calm.

As the mother calmly steers the child out of traffic, and off peoples lawns, well meaning adults will show concern for the child. Wondering what on earth that parent might have done...and they collect across the street and watch as the child hits, spits, screams, wails and is eventually gently held, to be kept from hurting the mother. This may take 45 minutes, in a random neighborhood , while you, a well meaning citizen watches.

If you were watching long enough, you would watch the mother calmly saying gentle soothing words, you would observe the mother mimicking deep breaths and possibly even tapping on the child's forehead and hands. You will see the same woman who minutes before was being kicked, bitten, and spit on embracing and calming the very child whom you thought she was abusing. 
The VERY child you thought she was abusing.

Dear Neighbor,Aunt, Uncle or even Grandparent, well meaning friend, or church congregation member.
Dear Check out lady, School Parent,Therapist, or regular Joe or Jane off the street,

This child, this very one is the one you think is so very adorable and charming.
This very child is the one that the mother is concerned for and tries to warn you, keep boundaries for that seem way to harsh. This child, is broken.  Though you don't see it, because you only get to see those very small parts of them they trust you with, I as their mother, or primary caregiver am privy to ALL of it.

When you see me, I may seem worn out, over conscious, a "helicopter parent", but understand, this is not who I want to be. This is who and what I must be, so that I can keep my child safe. Because lurking any moment, second to second could be something to trigger my child, and as much as I wish I could depend on you, or someone else for help, my child first needs to learn how to trust,depend and allow me to help them, or they never will be able to trust anyone. Or they never will be able to trust anyone.

Today may be a small example of what my days are filled with, a very fine dance between regulation and dis-regulation. It takes very little things for some children to be thrown off for days. As my children heal, it takes deeper things to set them off, the rages and tantrums may last less amounts of time. I may see days strung in a row of "good days", but, just like anything that needs to be healed, time is the most crucial of factors, time, patience and understanding of the obstacles at hand.

Please trust me, if you want to help, ask to help me, not my child, my child does not need you, they need me, me at my healthiest, me on my game, me not worn out. If you can help me with that, offering meals, driving other children to activities.If you come upon me in a parking lot holding a screaming child, offer to help buckle other children in a car-seat, or if there is anyone you could call for help. Please trust me, please don't judge me, gossip about me, or try to give me advice. I am dedicated to helping my child heal. Everyday I sacrifice something, a piece of myself to this child in hope of their healing, because I have hope, that someday I might just reach them. There is no perfect formula, no drug , no time span that will predict when and if they will ever be your definition of "O.K." or "normal". But I am not giving up, not today, and not tomorrow....I am hoping not ever, but again I am taking it day by day.

Please if anything, just by reading my letter, know I am doing the best I can. The way I am loving and parenting my child you may not understand, and that is O.K., I pray you will never know the heart ache and the necessity by which I do 99% of the things that I do.
Please have patience with me and my child. Pray for us, send us loving thoughts, most of all give me the benefit of doubt, I am doing very difficult things with so very much love.

Sincerely,
That crazy barefoot lady you watched walk 9 blocks with the screaming Haitian child in Tinkerbell pajamas