Time flies when you are knee deep in regression. I can't believe it's been a month since I wrote here. So much and so little has happened. The days blur together as we deal with a whole lot of stick-poking nonsense. Nothing really major but too much minor and the constant resurfacing of issues. I know a part of it is the fear and anxiety the three older kids deal with when I go away.
I went to Orlando at the beginning of the month for the 3rd annual ETAAM gathering of women parenting kids with trauma. I am not ready to write about that experience because I am still savoring it. I did write about it last year (here) and this is some of what I felt then:
All of that was true this year (except there were 90 of us and the "money in the bra" thing didn't happen at dinner this year) but there was so much more this second time around. I am going to be a little selfish and keep it to myself for a while longer because sometimes when I close my eyes I can still feel myself there and it helps me remember that I am not alone and I have 90 inspiring and amazing women standing right there behind me. It helps a whole lot.
The reentry was harder. We didn't have any honeymooning with the older kids. All of them were super-needy and no amount of therapeutic parenting was helping for long. But I have been in such a good space that while I grow weary, we keep plugging along.
Tortuga and Corazon are able to talk about their anxiety and fear. Tortuga wrote in his school journal on the day before I left that he would be looking forward to "nights filled with dreams about mom dying and not coming back." While this is awful for him it speaks volumes for his growing attachment. How awful is it that I can be excited that he is afraid of me dying? Then again there have been so many times in our five year journey that he was wished me dead and graphically detailed the ways he would help that become a reality. Progress is such a strange thing...