She made it to the coveted "pink diamond" behavior status.
We've been following the hospital's behavior model, a color code system. Pink Diamond is earned by having green level behaviors for both shifts for an entire week.
So she achieved it...and crashed and burned.
I'm not sure what psychological trigger occurs in her head that tells her and now you will sabotage your efforts because if I did, I'd cut that red wire before the bomb explodes. (or is it the blue wire?)
The pinnacle of the crash included her screaming in the shower that she hates that she was born this way, wishes she hadn't been born and hates that she can't change herself (meaning her organic issues.) I didn't respond directly to her outpouring, I have the suspicion that she thinks being in the shower with the water running equates to being in a sound-proof room. I didn't want to embarrass her by letting her know I'd overheard. Instead, when she was dressed for bed, I gave her an extra long hug and kiss and told her how much I loved her.
Then yesterday, she slept through her school day.
*enter the sound of the Titanic hitting the ocean floor*
By the time I picked her up early so she could attend the monthly FTM, she became unhinged in the van. Fortunately, her therapist pulled up to the house when I did. I met her at her car, offering to carry her belongings into the house if she would do crisis management and deescalate Sissy for me.
For now, I'm considering it a setback and not a return to old behaviors. I'm going to remain positive and keep giving her the praise she needs to stay the course. I'm going to hope that this hasn't all been just a remission but rather a genuine positive change in her behaviors. I sent her off to school with, "you can do it! I know you can have another great day. I believe in you. I'll change your color back to green if your teacher gives me a good report for today."
"ok mom"
Then I drove off watching her drag her gray hoodie on the ground, her gray pants barely hanging onto her hips, her gray shirt slumped off one shoulder, her book bag barely hanging onto the other. She didn't turn to wave at me as I drove off like she always does.
Optimism carries us only so far. The remaining distance is covered while I constantly jiggle my legs when I'm seated and as I sleep in the fetal position, hugging myself in anxious anticipation that it will all fade away once more. the red flags are popping up on the horizon and all I want to do is retreat. Curse you PTSD!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
And they give themselves away...
I love U2. I know that dates myself. I don't care.
Thursday morning Sissy was a chatterbox. If you have a RADish you know what that's like. It's not just an excited child talking about all sorts of things in an excited fashion. No, RADish chatterboxes mumble random ideas in staccato rhythm, much like a slow-flashing strobe light. Short phrases, unconnected, strange thoughts and ideas, sometimes with a hint of anger or irritability.
Ignoring tactics only work for so long and then, it comes to a point when your nerves start to wince and your brain gets a little quirky and screwed up and you find yourself tightly clenching your teeth trying desperately not to explode in sheer frustration. Usually I get out a "Now is not the talking time" phrase but Sissy will immediately come back with "but I wasn't sayin' nothin!" [1]
*sigh*
This behavior is dead ringer for I've done something and I don't want to get busted.
And what had she done, exactly? Dropped one of her morning pills on the floor under the table but didn't ask for help to find it (I found it later after she went to school and I was sweeping.)
Oh, and the back pack. That one was funny.
As per last week's events, one of Sissy's consequences is that I will do random bag checks daily. The last time I had rifled through it was Tuesday night. It was now Thursday morning. Sissy chattered away, adding her thoughts in faster succession as I dropped off AB and WG, leaving the two of us alone to drive the mile and a half to her school. *chatter chatter chatter*
The car rider lane at her school was long and finally, the bells in my head said yo, mom. DUH! she's giving herself away! So I nonchalantly said, "Hey Sissy, while we wait in the line for you to get out, let me have your bag so I can do a back pack check."
I unzipped and saw it. Her pack of 50 markers, her doodling journal and some stickers. "Hey, what's this?" I said casually as I pulled it out of her bag. She grumbled a low, disappointed "ohhhhhh..."
"I don't see how you'll need these items to help you learn today. I think they just need to stay right here in the van with me. I'll give them back to you when I pick you up."
She tsked at me.
Then, she hugged me, kissed me, said, "i love you mom", got out of the van and gaily went into the building.
She gave herself away but methinks this time, she wanted to be found out. I'm loved because I busted her. Go figure.
And yes, I giggled the whole way home.
[1] when she quips back with that retort, i'll admit, it is exceedingly difficult to not engage the argument with a "YOU JUST TALKED RIGHT NOW!" statement. That argument goes like this:
Now is not the talking time.
but I wasn't sayin' nothin!
you just now said something
no i didn't.
still talking
i'm not!
What do you call that?
UGH! I'm not talking.
Be quiet
I am!
Stop
UGH!!!! I'M NOT TALKING!
*me giving her the "mom" look*
SERIOUSLY! I wasn't talking!
Still talking (muttered under my breath)
GEEZ! Can't I say nothin?
nope
TSK! For the last time, I'm Not Talking!
and she's still talking (said to the wall)
NO.I'M.NOT.
(talking to thin air)the words are coming out of her mouth and yet, it's not talking. I'm confused.
HUH? Mom! Stop. that doesn't make any sense!
neither do you.
YES I DO!
I've asked you to stop talking.
I wasn't talking.
And yet your mouth keeps going.
AUGHGHGHGHGH!!!!!!!!
*i giggle*
MOM! Quit laughing at me!
Not laughing at you, laughing at this conversation.
We're NOT having a conversation. I'm NOT TALKING!
*i leave the room to laugh in my pillow*
*sissy storms to her room shouting about how horrible a mother I am*
Thursday morning Sissy was a chatterbox. If you have a RADish you know what that's like. It's not just an excited child talking about all sorts of things in an excited fashion. No, RADish chatterboxes mumble random ideas in staccato rhythm, much like a slow-flashing strobe light. Short phrases, unconnected, strange thoughts and ideas, sometimes with a hint of anger or irritability.
Ignoring tactics only work for so long and then, it comes to a point when your nerves start to wince and your brain gets a little quirky and screwed up and you find yourself tightly clenching your teeth trying desperately not to explode in sheer frustration. Usually I get out a "Now is not the talking time" phrase but Sissy will immediately come back with "but I wasn't sayin' nothin!" [1]
*sigh*
This behavior is dead ringer for I've done something and I don't want to get busted.
And what had she done, exactly? Dropped one of her morning pills on the floor under the table but didn't ask for help to find it (I found it later after she went to school and I was sweeping.)
Oh, and the back pack. That one was funny.
As per last week's events, one of Sissy's consequences is that I will do random bag checks daily. The last time I had rifled through it was Tuesday night. It was now Thursday morning. Sissy chattered away, adding her thoughts in faster succession as I dropped off AB and WG, leaving the two of us alone to drive the mile and a half to her school. *chatter chatter chatter*
The car rider lane at her school was long and finally, the bells in my head said yo, mom. DUH! she's giving herself away! So I nonchalantly said, "Hey Sissy, while we wait in the line for you to get out, let me have your bag so I can do a back pack check."
I unzipped and saw it. Her pack of 50 markers, her doodling journal and some stickers. "Hey, what's this?" I said casually as I pulled it out of her bag. She grumbled a low, disappointed "ohhhhhh..."
"I don't see how you'll need these items to help you learn today. I think they just need to stay right here in the van with me. I'll give them back to you when I pick you up."
She tsked at me.
Then, she hugged me, kissed me, said, "i love you mom", got out of the van and gaily went into the building.
She gave herself away but methinks this time, she wanted to be found out. I'm loved because I busted her. Go figure.
And yes, I giggled the whole way home.
[1] when she quips back with that retort, i'll admit, it is exceedingly difficult to not engage the argument with a "YOU JUST TALKED RIGHT NOW!" statement. That argument goes like this:
Now is not the talking time.
but I wasn't sayin' nothin!
you just now said something
no i didn't.
still talking
i'm not!
What do you call that?
UGH! I'm not talking.
Be quiet
I am!
Stop
UGH!!!! I'M NOT TALKING!
*me giving her the "mom" look*
SERIOUSLY! I wasn't talking!
Still talking (muttered under my breath)
GEEZ! Can't I say nothin?
nope
TSK! For the last time, I'm Not Talking!
and she's still talking (said to the wall)
NO.I'M.NOT.
(talking to thin air)the words are coming out of her mouth and yet, it's not talking. I'm confused.
HUH? Mom! Stop. that doesn't make any sense!
neither do you.
YES I DO!
I've asked you to stop talking.
I wasn't talking.
And yet your mouth keeps going.
AUGHGHGHGHGH!!!!!!!!
*i giggle*
MOM! Quit laughing at me!
Not laughing at you, laughing at this conversation.
We're NOT having a conversation. I'm NOT TALKING!
*i leave the room to laugh in my pillow*
*sissy storms to her room shouting about how horrible a mother I am*
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
slumber party
In November during one of Sissy's overnight TL's, just before her return to the hospital, we got the chance to have a little nap on the bed. And there wasn't any RAD crazies afterward, a first.
Then in December after her discharge, we had a few share-the-bed-with-mom nights. She slept talked, cried, shouted, sat up in bed and rocked and was difficult to sleep with but... BUT, there was no RAD crazies afterward.
The other night, I went for broke and let her sleep in the bed with me again, WG on the floor. We had a slumber party and it was FUN! We all slept peacefully, we woke nicely and it was nice. Just so nice. AMAZING nice. No sleep issues. No waking, no tossing, no shouting or crying or sleep-walking. Nothing.
And still no RAD crazies for it afterward.
I could get used to this.
Then in December after her discharge, we had a few share-the-bed-with-mom nights. She slept talked, cried, shouted, sat up in bed and rocked and was difficult to sleep with but... BUT, there was no RAD crazies afterward.
The other night, I went for broke and let her sleep in the bed with me again, WG on the floor. We had a slumber party and it was FUN! We all slept peacefully, we woke nicely and it was nice. Just so nice. AMAZING nice. No sleep issues. No waking, no tossing, no shouting or crying or sleep-walking. Nothing.
And still no RAD crazies for it afterward.
I could get used to this.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Blooming Radish
My RADish has bloomed.
Isn't it so pretty?
Alas, the story isn't. The therapist picked Sissy up from school on Friday and brought her to the house when their session was over. The look on the therapist's face was good grief, your kid drove me bonkers! So I said, "tough time?" And her story began.
Apparently, Sissy brought money to spend. The therapist thinking I was the one who sent her with the money was trying to be obliging. Sissy was very distracted, disoriented, difficult to keep on task, wanted to spend every last cent and pretty much drove the therapist nutty for the hour and 15 minute session in which she had planned to do a TALKING session with Sissy. NOT a shopping trip.
Still not cluing in to the whole story, I said to the therapist, "was this YOUR money?" At which point, Sissy began biting her fingers which means oh crap. busted.
The therapist said, "no. she brought her own money. I assumed..."
And I turned to Sissy and said, "EXCUSE ME?"
Which was followed by her dashing into the house hollering, "I'm SORRY! I SAID I'M SORRY! GEEZ! I DIDN'T KNOW!!!!"
And I said after her, "To your room. I'll talk to you later." And then the therapist and I got our stories straightened out, she apologized and I said, "no worries. Consider yourself duped by my blooming RADish. It's not the first time and it won't be the last."
I returned to Sissy who was still pleading innocence at the top of her lungs. We had an abbreviated discussion about what I had said the night before which was, "do not bring your money." Abbreviated because she told me other things she snuck out of the house and afraid I'd be unfair in my anger declared a personal five minute time-out.
I returned in five minutes and tried to begin again. She told me more. I declared another five minute personal time-out.
I went back a third time and began with, "before I begin with your consequences, is there ANYTHING else you need to tell me that might make me frustrated?" And she proceeded to tell me that she's been up at night, walking about the house, just doing whatever and that's when she snuck the things into her backpack, that she'd been doing this "all the time" and when I asked why she told the psychiatrist the day before that she'd been sleeping just fine, no problems she said,
"I didn't want him to know." And I declared one more personal five minute time out which was actually a full twenty minutes while I called a local RAD mom and said to ask for backup because my RADish had just bloomed. Then I called the therapist and at her advice made alternative plans for Sissy so she would not be attending her Aunt's wedding the next day - a natural consequence.
I returned to Sissy's room, spelled it out for her, wrote a contract, signed it and taped it to her door. Of course, that makes it sound like it was an easy thing to do. It wasn't. It took a full hour of her wailing and declarations of innocence and accusations of my being unjust and unfair, etc. etc. A wonderful, blissful time was had by all.
And the wedding was beautiful. It was the first time I had been without her for an outing since her discharge so I felt gaily free for four hours. I tried to get someone at the reception to agree to providing childcare for the evening so I could have the rest of the night off but oddly, no one wanted to harvest my blooming RADish for me. Go figure?
The groom, his son (the ring bearer) and WG
It was so wonderful. And I'm so proud of Aunt A and Uncle E! And the kids are excited to have a new cousin. WG and her cousin B have decided that M will be their second-best cousin (WG and B are already first-best cousins). AB wanted to know if he could call him UNCLE officially now and Sissy couldn't figure out how it was that Aunt A was now a mom but she'd never had a baby.
Isn't it so pretty?
Alas, the story isn't. The therapist picked Sissy up from school on Friday and brought her to the house when their session was over. The look on the therapist's face was good grief, your kid drove me bonkers! So I said, "tough time?" And her story began.
Apparently, Sissy brought money to spend. The therapist thinking I was the one who sent her with the money was trying to be obliging. Sissy was very distracted, disoriented, difficult to keep on task, wanted to spend every last cent and pretty much drove the therapist nutty for the hour and 15 minute session in which she had planned to do a TALKING session with Sissy. NOT a shopping trip.
Still not cluing in to the whole story, I said to the therapist, "was this YOUR money?" At which point, Sissy began biting her fingers which means oh crap. busted.
The therapist said, "no. she brought her own money. I assumed..."
And I turned to Sissy and said, "EXCUSE ME?"
Which was followed by her dashing into the house hollering, "I'm SORRY! I SAID I'M SORRY! GEEZ! I DIDN'T KNOW!!!!"
And I said after her, "To your room. I'll talk to you later." And then the therapist and I got our stories straightened out, she apologized and I said, "no worries. Consider yourself duped by my blooming RADish. It's not the first time and it won't be the last."
I returned to Sissy who was still pleading innocence at the top of her lungs. We had an abbreviated discussion about what I had said the night before which was, "do not bring your money." Abbreviated because she told me other things she snuck out of the house and afraid I'd be unfair in my anger declared a personal five minute time-out.
I returned in five minutes and tried to begin again. She told me more. I declared another five minute personal time-out.
I went back a third time and began with, "before I begin with your consequences, is there ANYTHING else you need to tell me that might make me frustrated?" And she proceeded to tell me that she's been up at night, walking about the house, just doing whatever and that's when she snuck the things into her backpack, that she'd been doing this "all the time" and when I asked why she told the psychiatrist the day before that she'd been sleeping just fine, no problems she said,
"I didn't want him to know." And I declared one more personal five minute time out which was actually a full twenty minutes while I called a local RAD mom and said to ask for backup because my RADish had just bloomed. Then I called the therapist and at her advice made alternative plans for Sissy so she would not be attending her Aunt's wedding the next day - a natural consequence.
I returned to Sissy's room, spelled it out for her, wrote a contract, signed it and taped it to her door. Of course, that makes it sound like it was an easy thing to do. It wasn't. It took a full hour of her wailing and declarations of innocence and accusations of my being unjust and unfair, etc. etc. A wonderful, blissful time was had by all.
And the wedding was beautiful. It was the first time I had been without her for an outing since her discharge so I felt gaily free for four hours. I tried to get someone at the reception to agree to providing childcare for the evening so I could have the rest of the night off but oddly, no one wanted to harvest my blooming RADish for me. Go figure?
WG, the flower girl
I made the dress
Bride and Father
the kids' Aunt and Papa
Saying the vows
It was so wonderful. And I'm so proud of Aunt A and Uncle E! And the kids are excited to have a new cousin. WG and her cousin B have decided that M will be their second-best cousin (WG and B are already first-best cousins). AB wanted to know if he could call him UNCLE officially now and Sissy couldn't figure out how it was that Aunt A was now a mom but she'd never had a baby.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Life
For Sissy who got angry at her backpack this morning
On days when life
Lets you win
Put on a dress
And spin, spin, spin!
Life never says
What's coming next
But that makes living
Life the best.
So turn your frown
Upside down
And live this life
In your nightgown!
Poetry original work by author of this blog. Copyright laws apply.
LIFE
Life is funny
Life is weird.
Life makes women
Grow a beard.
Life is scary
Life is fun.
Life won't end
With the setting sun.
Sometimes life gets
The better of you.
Just laugh out loud
And chuck a shoe.
On days when life
Lets you win
Put on a dress
And spin, spin, spin!
Life never says
What's coming next
But that makes living
Life the best.
So turn your frown
Upside down
And live this life
In your nightgown!
Poetry original work by author of this blog. Copyright laws apply.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
toothpaste
Rough evening. Sissy's beginning to unwind and get quirky. Tonight, MY undoing was her insanity over toothpaste. Not USING it, not the FLAVOR, not about BRUSHING, about the verification that the tube of toothpaste was indeed hers.
AB was showering in the hall bathroom, Sissy's hygiene bin is in there. I grabbed HER toothbrush and HER toothpaste from HER hygiene bin and brought it to my bedroom bathroom. As she did not personally witness me removing HER toothpaste from HER hygiene bin, she argued the validity of my claim that it was indeed HERS.
Point of fact, she was prepared to refuse brushing her teeth altogether because it could not be proven beyond my word that the toothpaste was HERS. From HER hygiene bin. Her only argument was that there were teeth marks on the cap.
Now, I COULD have argued back that I've personally witnessed her using her teeth to unfasten the cap. But I didn't. That would have been pouring gasoline on the fire. Instead I stood firm. "I don't know what to tell you other than I got the toothpaste from YOUR hygiene bin."
She grunted her frustration back at me.
I stared her down.
She went into the bathroom with a huff and a "FINE!"
I walked into the kitchen and banged my head on the pantry door.
Toothpaste. *thump*
TOOTHPASTE. *thump*
TOOTHPASTE!!!!!! *thump, thump, thump*
For the love of all that is holy, TOOTHPASTE is going to be the death of both of us.
WG suggested that I not bang my head because it might hurt later so instead we screamed into my bedroom pillows. Which, actually, was quite satisfying.
But now I have a headache. I should have opted for more trampoline time. (WG and I had some of that earlier in the evening because OMG, Sissy was driving us both crazy.)
I held it together moderately well today but TOOTHPASTE became my downfall. It's me or the toothpaste, either way, one of us has to go.
AB was showering in the hall bathroom, Sissy's hygiene bin is in there. I grabbed HER toothbrush and HER toothpaste from HER hygiene bin and brought it to my bedroom bathroom. As she did not personally witness me removing HER toothpaste from HER hygiene bin, she argued the validity of my claim that it was indeed HERS.
Point of fact, she was prepared to refuse brushing her teeth altogether because it could not be proven beyond my word that the toothpaste was HERS. From HER hygiene bin. Her only argument was that there were teeth marks on the cap.
Now, I COULD have argued back that I've personally witnessed her using her teeth to unfasten the cap. But I didn't. That would have been pouring gasoline on the fire. Instead I stood firm. "I don't know what to tell you other than I got the toothpaste from YOUR hygiene bin."
She grunted her frustration back at me.
I stared her down.
She went into the bathroom with a huff and a "FINE!"
I walked into the kitchen and banged my head on the pantry door.
Toothpaste. *thump*
TOOTHPASTE. *thump*
TOOTHPASTE!!!!!! *thump, thump, thump*
For the love of all that is holy, TOOTHPASTE is going to be the death of both of us.
WG suggested that I not bang my head because it might hurt later so instead we screamed into my bedroom pillows. Which, actually, was quite satisfying.
But now I have a headache. I should have opted for more trampoline time. (WG and I had some of that earlier in the evening because OMG, Sissy was driving us both crazy.)
I held it together moderately well today but TOOTHPASTE became my downfall. It's me or the toothpaste, either way, one of us has to go.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Empathy One Day at a Time
Poor AB, home from school again with another stomach upset. I was thinking about last year and I think I recall that he had several missed days for illnesses. Typical of developmental delays, our kiddos get sick more easily than others. Thank heavens for the medical excuse waiver for school - any of AB's absences or tardies that are GI related are excused. In other words, the county can't send a truancy officer to my door.
I've got laundry running and coffee in hand, classical music running on the laptop and a quilt all over the kitchen table. I was supposed to be at a hair appointment at 10, AB was supposed to have OT this afternoon, ah. Life was supposed to happen today but I knew at 2 am that those plans would all be altered. Here's to life raising kids with challenges. SAHM? Try work-at-home-nurse-educator-housecleaner-cook-therapist-tutor-scullerymaid-laundress-chauffer-cook-financial advisor-secretary-administrator-handywoman-organizer-interior decorator-plumber-electrician-painter-mechanic-mom
Did I forget anything? Probably. And on a dime, the plans can change and you're grounded, all flights cancelled due to inclement tummies or runny noses or fevers, chills and the trots.
Where's my salary, health benefits, 401K and paid vacation and sick days? That's what I want to know.
And how is Sissy? Here's a copy/paste email to her EBD teacher this morning:
This weekend was monumental however. For the first time in five years, she had a sleep over with a friend! WHAT?! So amazing. Of course, this friend was a mom-orchestrated relationship but hey, that's just one more of our many jobs: social coordinator. Not only that, but she expressed empathy. WHAT?!?!
OK, let me be specific. First, Sissy expressing ANY empathy of any kind is HUGE. COLOSSAL. GIGANTIC. ENORMOUS. HOLD-THE-PHONE-WOW. She was watching Edward Scissorhands and began wailing and hollering and sobbing when Edward was being unfairly picked on and arrested because he was misunderstood. She was nearly inconsolable. It was fantastic! When she calmed down, I invited her to just turn off the movie, which she did. Then I gave her a hug (ALSO HUGE) and said, "Do you know what just happened? You expressed EMPATHY!"
*dear in the headlights look*
I explained it and she changed the subject. No matter. I know what happened. And I am so proud of her. Now, will the empathy she had for a fictitious character in an absurd fantasy movie translate to empathy toward real-life humans and situations, more specifically, her family and friends? Eh, probably not any time soon. But hey, a milestone is a milestone. I'll take it.
I'm glad to see Sissy doing so much better but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on pins and needles waiting for the other shoe to drop. We've seen her remissions before. I can't safely conclude that she's past some hurdles and that she isn't just running the paces of her mental illness and trauma. RADs is still alive and well but since she's not raging or hurting herself and others, it isn't tripping me up emotionally.
One day at a time, that's all anyone can do. One day at a time.
I've got laundry running and coffee in hand, classical music running on the laptop and a quilt all over the kitchen table. I was supposed to be at a hair appointment at 10, AB was supposed to have OT this afternoon, ah. Life was supposed to happen today but I knew at 2 am that those plans would all be altered. Here's to life raising kids with challenges. SAHM? Try work-at-home-nurse-educator-housecleaner-cook-therapist-tutor-scullerymaid-laundress-chauffer-cook-financial advisor-secretary-administrator-handywoman-organizer-interior decorator-plumber-electrician-painter-mechanic-mom
Did I forget anything? Probably. And on a dime, the plans can change and you're grounded, all flights cancelled due to inclement tummies or runny noses or fevers, chills and the trots.
Where's my salary, health benefits, 401K and paid vacation and sick days? That's what I want to know.
And how is Sissy? Here's a copy/paste email to her EBD teacher this morning:
She has still not returned to the raging and self-injurious behavior she was displaying before hospitalization which is amazing. However, I have noticed that she is quicker to tantrum and is increasingly more short-tempered and less tolerant of irritants. She is quick to talk back and refuse consequence but settles down moderately well when she's pushed to accept her limit.
She is still mostly green level behaviors at home but this weekend was on yellow for not following directions which put her in danger. (We were leaving the pharmacy, I gave her a verbal cue and began exiting the store only to realize when I got to the van that she had not followed. I returned inside the store and she was completely unaware that I had even left - scary!) That said, I will add that she is definitely needing more physical cuing as I've seen her space out more frequently the past ten days.
This weekend was monumental however. For the first time in five years, she had a sleep over with a friend! WHAT?! So amazing. Of course, this friend was a mom-orchestrated relationship but hey, that's just one more of our many jobs: social coordinator. Not only that, but she expressed empathy. WHAT?!?!
OK, let me be specific. First, Sissy expressing ANY empathy of any kind is HUGE. COLOSSAL. GIGANTIC. ENORMOUS. HOLD-THE-PHONE-WOW. She was watching Edward Scissorhands and began wailing and hollering and sobbing when Edward was being unfairly picked on and arrested because he was misunderstood. She was nearly inconsolable. It was fantastic! When she calmed down, I invited her to just turn off the movie, which she did. Then I gave her a hug (ALSO HUGE) and said, "Do you know what just happened? You expressed EMPATHY!"
*dear in the headlights look*
I explained it and she changed the subject. No matter. I know what happened. And I am so proud of her. Now, will the empathy she had for a fictitious character in an absurd fantasy movie translate to empathy toward real-life humans and situations, more specifically, her family and friends? Eh, probably not any time soon. But hey, a milestone is a milestone. I'll take it.
I'm glad to see Sissy doing so much better but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on pins and needles waiting for the other shoe to drop. We've seen her remissions before. I can't safely conclude that she's past some hurdles and that she isn't just running the paces of her mental illness and trauma. RADs is still alive and well but since she's not raging or hurting herself and others, it isn't tripping me up emotionally.
One day at a time, that's all anyone can do. One day at a time.
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