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Not This Time

It could have happened, many times.  There were plans and notes.  We went through 5 different attempts, and not one succeeded.  There were escalations – but nothing ended in tragedy.  I have watched all 3 of my children suffer with depression, go through bullying, battle with poor self image, and yet somehow we have come through on the other side.

Today, a family in our community didn’t come through the other side.  For some reason, what ever was going on, was just too much, and an intercession didn’t happen soon enough to help.  Why us?  How did I get so fortunate?  I don’t think there’s an answer.

When we were in the days at the hospital, I remember talking to the Dr.’s and nurses, and asking if anyone ever succeeded at an attempt while there.  I was told that twice kids had succeeded.  Last week, there was one more success.  It breaks my heart to think of what that family must be going through.  I hugged my daughter a little tighter all week.

Over the last year, I have seen countless numbers of kids struggling with gender and sexual identity.  I’ve learned words I didn’t even know existed.  Bi Gender, Pan Gender, Trans Gender, Trans Sexual, Pan Sexual, Omni Sexual, Bi Sexual, A Sexual- I don’t even remember talking about that kind of stuff when I was a teen.  I know there were and are many reasons that this topic isn’t talked about, but why the pressure to be defined in one category at such a young age?  I’ve seen countless girls victims of sexual assault or mental and physical abuse, that are now afraid of men, so they feel they must be different.  The word “lesbian” isn’t used because of the stigma, but because of the fear, they struggle with thinking they must be different, and it’s not much different for boys.

I’ve met a young girl, so beautiful, that is almost 17, but has already had a heart attack at age 15 from being so thin, and tonight is fighting to get past a drug over dose.  Her step dad can’t understand her struggles, so her mom kicked her out and sent her to her grandmas.  She’s sad, confused and obviously hurting enough to repeatedly try and take her own life – and there’s so many more like her.  I watched a young girl cry out of control at having to eat one pea on her plate.  One….small……pea.  The terror in her face was unreal, and the pain was so evident, and yet I couldn’t understand where those feelings came from.

We met a boy, gang raped by the foster kids in his house for being gay.  What’s the big deal?  He’s gay, so why shouldn’t he take it?  His parents kicked him out when he was just 12, because they couldn’t take the fact that he didn’t feel like the boy they wanted him to be.  Pushed from home to home, the feelings of self hate had him cutting so deep that he ended up bandaged with stiches all over.  Button pusher?  Yes.  But the cries for attention were just so obvious, and when he asked me to take him home I almost cried.

Speechless yet?  Feeling shocked?  This is the world we live in.  Kids don’t get the film we did in grade 5 about what happens when  you get fuzz in your special spots, and that having a shower is important.  Sex ed for 14 year olds talks about 50 shades of grey, and topics like fisting.  Yup – that’s right – fisting.  Or even more shocking – double fisting.  Don’t know what that is?  Find out – I bet you’ll be horrified.  Maybe not all teachers are talking about it, but I guarantee you our kids are.

There is a bombardment on our kids of negative, provocative, depressing information.  A constant onslaught is hitting them from every direction.  When I was that age, the bullying stopped when I got off the bus after school, and didn’t start again till the next day when I got back on the bus.  I went home, did chores, homework, helped with dinner, went to lessons, complained about practicing, went to church clubs – I was busy.  If someone wanted to bully me, they had to call on the phone, which meant my dad would probably answer, and then the house would probably hear.  It just didn’t happen.  Yes, I was afraid to go back to school sometimes, but one of the worst bullies was a teacher so being around other kids wasn’t even always the problem.

The onslaught of constant information is 24/7.  How do we make it stop?  How do we take the pressure off, and change the environment so our kids have a fighting chance?  How do we inspire our kids to feel that life is worth it?  This is a serious question, and is going to take some serious thought.  There have been anti bullying campaigns for ages and I’m not sure they really even work.  If they did, would these things really happen?  Would kids be taking their lives?  Would there be waiting lists for programs with a lot of kids not having any hope of getting help?

When will this insanity stop?  We can’t just continue on and not say or do anything.  Not this time.

My family is reeling today.  3 tragic deaths in 3 weeks.  The ripples of these tragedies go far.  We need to do something different.  Something has to change.

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“Miss” – Communication

Last week I was supposed to be on holidays.  I had 12 days I had to use up prior to the end of summer, so I booked a week off to go to the lake.  I knew it might be a little complicated because my daughter has been so busy, but I was really looking forward to some down time, and maybe a little normalicy.  I had arranged with her program that she could miss 2 days, and just said we’re headed out of town.

The first derailer was unavoidable.  We had a family emergency, and my fiance had to head overseas, so I took all the kids.  No problem.  One more kid in the mix?  I’ve done it before, I can do it again.  Then we had the school reunion melt down night.  After that whole incident, I decided that at least 1 day of program would be necessary to try and straighten things out.  The problem came with 2 teens discussing suicide via text.  Then one puts her phone away, the other freaks out, and the police are now involved.  That was not the best moment and was definitely a very stressful start to the week.  We could still potentially have almost 2 days away, and get my daughter back to her job on Friday and Saturday.  The next issue came with more appointments, taking up the other days of the week.  Oh well.  That’s kind of how it works – not going to sweat it.

Thursday came, and my daughter was supposed to be at program.  Fairly early, she came up the stairs and said she didn’t have to go.  She had texted a counselor and said she was tired, and they said she didn’t have to be there.  We were supposed to be on vacation anyways, and I had numerous other appointments, so I was a bit relieved.  There was a little voice inside of me saying check the phone, but I dismissed it and went on with the day.

The week passed, and Monday came with work, appointments, cleaning, laundry and all the other fun that goes with a busy family.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I go to work at 6 am, leave at 915 to get her to her program, head back to work, go back to pick her up at about 4, and then back to work to finish off what I missed and put in my time during the day.  As I drove to the program, I received a text asking me to come in and touch base when I dropped her off.  Sure – I could do that.

“Did you think it was ok for your daughter to miss Thursday?”

“She said the other counselor said it was ok.”

“No, it wasn’t ok and that’s not what he said.”

“I’m sorry – I’ll take responsibility.  I didn’t check her phone and just took her word for it.  I should have checked.”

“Everyone was asking where she was.  It’s not ok to miss as this is part of her therapy.”

“Yes, I’m sorry.  I should have checked.  I did kind of wonder, but we were supposed to be on holidays anyways, and I had a crazy day so I just took her word for it.  It won’t happen again.”

“On Thursday we’d like to have a family counseling session and talk about communication.  There seems to be a lot of problems with that lately.”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea.  There are things I’d like to discuss around that as well.”

“Ok, Thursday at 4?”

“Sure.  Thursday at 4.”

That conversation bugged me the rest of the day.  I want to trust my daughter, I really do, but this was putting me in the position of a major trust breach and feeling that she lied to get her way.

“How was your day?”

“Good.”

“How was your testing today?”

“Long.  I have a headache.”

“We have a family session on Tuesday.”

“I know – about my “mis-communication.  I’m sure I have the text mom.  I swear they said I could miss.  I don’t understand why I’m in trouble.  I swear they said yes.”

“Can I see the text?”

“I’ll read it to you.”

She proceeded to read a conversation to me between herself and a counselor, who had said he preferred she come to program that day, and it’s part of her treatment, but if she felt she needed to rest he was in approval and “by all means you should stay home and rest prior to work tomorrow.”  That sounds to me like they said it was ok for her to stay home.  We took a screenshot of the conversation, and I sent it to the other therapist.  I wanted her to see it prior to our counseling session.

Part of me is relieved.  Part of me is saying “whewf.  She didn’t lie.”  Part of me is saying, “you should have checked the phone!  You felt it in your gut, why are you still ignoring that?”.  And then a large part of me says, “Here we go again.  I can’t believe this.  A counselor threw her under the bus, and now we get to have a counseling session and discuss a text. Are the counselors telling each other stories? Why can’t we get this right?”

When we came in to the program, they told us the door was always open in an emergency.  An emergency happened, and we were turned away.  Bad communication?  On who’s part?

We were told go ahead and send a text to reach us.  The text was sent, an answer given, and now we’ve been called in.  Bad communication again?  Our fault?

4 tomorrow. Here we go again.

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John Henry

Forms.  Piles and piles of forms.  With every program we’ve been through so far, there have been forms, to agree to sign other forms.  Forms for release of information.  Forms for obtaining information.  Forms for medical tests, and forms for the results.  Forms for classes, forms for communicating, forms for staying, forms for going…really no end of forms.  During an intake to any program, you spend approximately 1 hour at the beginning signing forms, and then usually get presented with many others along the way.

Perhaps it’s my real estate back ground, perhaps it’s having run my own business, or perhaps it’s the fact that I may have trust issues, but when I’m presented with a form, I will read it in full before I put my name on it.  I’m pretty sure many people just accept those forms as is, and never really read through, because they’re always shocked when I read.  I don’t feel pressure, and I don’t rush, I read thoroughly before I go ahead.

One of the forms I’ve signed, and I’m sure many other parents do, is a sex ed form.  Now in every school, there is a sex ed class that they teach that requires approval.  The form is pretty generic, and they say some content such as safe sex, STD’s, and basic topics like that. When I was in grade 4, the school nurse gathered all the girls together, and talked to us about getting our monthly.  The book, “Are you there God, It’s Me , Margaret” had just been released, and everyone was reading it.  We were trying to approach our parents, saying “it” had arrived, and they had no clue what we were talking about. The nurse went in to detail, we were thoroughly grossed out, and very glad when it was all over.  In grade 5, the boys and girls had to sit in the same room and watch “the film”.  It talked about zits, showering, how boys like girls, and girls like boys, and puberty, and all the gross stuff included in the topic.  I remember we were all embarrassed and giggled when the nurse talked about it at the end of the class.  We couldn’t wait to be out of there.

As I said, I read and signed a sex ed form for one of the programs my daughter was recently in.  It didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, and I knew she was one of the youngest there, but I was not prepared for the conversation that followed.

“We talked about all the stuff from 50 shades of grey and that kind of thing.”

“Oh, really?  And how did you feel about that?”

“Well, they described why S&M and all that stuff is dangerous.  That no means no.”

“Ok, well, that’s good.  Anything you have questions about?”

“No.  We had a chance to ask questions, and were all really embarrassed, so, like one of the guys, who’s really good with accents and stuff, read the questions like this….(English accent) teacher, when you fist…)

“When you what?”

“You know, fist. Don’t you know what that is?”

“No?! What is it?”

The description came and I slammed on my brakes. My car came to a screeching halt in the middle of a residential street, and my head thrust forward and almost hit my steering wheel. I couldn’t believe my ears! And double fisting? That’s really possible?  My jaw was literally hanging open, eyes wide, in complete utter shock.

“What?! Are you kidding me? That’s what you’re discussing? That’s what I said yes to? I can’t even believe that’s possible?! What the heck?!!”

Now I might be a little old fashioned, but really? Is that necessary? I’d just like to thank El James for opening up a pile of garbage that we now get to explain to our kids. This is what we get to compare real life to. Our kids don’t come home and ask about “it”. They get to come home and think about being bound and gagged, or beaten, and wonder if that’s normal.

Had I known that those were the topics my child would be exposed to, I would have thought long and hard, and definitely asked more questions, before signing that form. It’s not that I’m opposed to knowledge, but do we really have to know everything?  I really don’t think so.  My life was perfectly fine without ever knowing the terms I’ve learned.

I don’t think everything has to be defined.  I don’t think all knowledge has to be known by all.  I don’t have to experience everything to know my life is great as it is.  I can really take my own experience and standards and filter how far I want to go.  I have a choice – it’s called free will – the ability to choose and say yes or no.  I also have a little life experience that allows me to sit in a room and know when things are going to far, or when the content I’m being exposed to is getting to be too much.  When our kids sit in a classroom and are taught, they are expected to stay, listen and learn.  They become victims of the opinions and potential values of the person at the head of the class.  I am not against learning, but do they have to know everything all at once?

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