Modifying someone else’s behavior is not something I take lightly and those attempts to change a person, without their permission and participation, that is pure control and manipulation, no grey area.
The person MUST be involved and work with those building the goals.
I had a parent who would spray the child with a water gun anytime the child wouldn’t answer, it soon evolved into pouring it over the child’s head. Then submerge them, into a cold shower, all for the proper response, the parent felt the child should have. The child stopped responding all together. She never trusted her parents standing near her, again. She’d flinch, bite her nails, cover her head and coward down. Other times, freeze and not move. It could be in a store, a game or a random place. If she saw them approaching, it was ingrained in her not to trust them. She started defending herself and hitting the parent back. Then they blamed her.
I had an older woman who’d slap her own mouth closed with her hand. Her parent would cover her mouth anytime she’d start giggling and ruminating. I observed she was giggling at herself for mistakes, dropping things or being clumsy.Shed repeat what direction was given and talk to herself to cope. A lifetime brought her being silenced by her own, gagging her with the hand,to quiet in any setting. Now she used her own hand.Shed need reassured words telling her to laugh and repeat what she needs to cope. She’d cry herself to sleep, gripping her face, with hand over mouth.
I had a man who was abandoned by his own family. He was intelligent, wise and compassionate. But needed attention, when new people, came into his life. He knew what, that meant. He’d have to repeat and discuss everything again. He’d have to describe being forgotten, left and replaced. They treated him as if he had no memory of being forgotten. To be handed over, every two to four years, because you aren’t capable, fast enough, but you are socially accepted. Great demeanor and good overall health. But when questioned about, one day, his world collapses because his world was taken from him. Imagine one day, it is decided you do not matter, you have no say and they are placing you away from everything you count on. Imagine that without warning, every time.
I watched the system give an absolute evil woman her child back after CPS intervened. A woman who made money, off the system that is to protect children. She separated those who cared for him, divided families and his care team. His care was deliberately neglected, to receive more money. Years of notes and documentation wasted because of a family member’s lack of support. An entire family giving, loving and supportive but gave him back to the abusive parents. Because services were dropped.no $$. Two weeks later his legs were broken, on purpose, in order to get those services back.
I did not plan on having the children, that no one else could handle. Sink or swim was what I was told.
My first was Gage. At a year old his father beat him into a comatose state. Broke everything. The baby was in a body cast.
Aaron, his mother would leave him staring 2 feet from tv in a chair, for days, blind and combative behaviors, can’t be held or consoled.
Joseph was blind and I was his aide. People liked to rile him up, as if he was performative and this was wrong. Tell him to dance basically, for their amusement. Look how cute! No, he’s learning to be put on cue! Why do adults make children perform for them? It is not at the child’s benefit to be taught you need to perform to be acknowledged. A disability is not an invitation for a performance. Stop encouraging the act, the phrase.They are not there to entertain you.
RJ was rescued from a fire, by the mailman. He was trapped under a table in the kitchen. He tried making food for himself on the stove. He was 3. Feet and hands burned but the damage to his family, unreal. Grandmother was with them and couldn’t get to him.
Colin was my baby boy who had liver desease. I was with him and his family for two schools and many classrooms. His shy demeanor towards those he cared for most. He’d hide his smile, cry with a raspy voice and giggle when being naughty. He was an angel to care for. He had a blood issue and bled out regularly. So much blood. All health issues his family navigated with such strength. They amazed me at their care.
A little girl who’s parents were too old to be raising a child. 70’s They adopted her from their drug addicted son. Her mother a prostitute. She was born addicted and the child spoke like an old lady, being raised by them. She’d echo their fights.A seven year old like a parrot.Screaming, you’re trying to kill me! Imagine an old man yelling about dinner, but from a tiny girl. They chain smoked in the house, and she had asthma. She was smart but a sociopath child. It was alarming, her capacity for tolerance and nuance of behaviors at seven, she had already given up and was plotting against them.
I had a boy named Abraham. He was a little boy who had a sibling who hurt him, daily. He spoke of it to me daily. He was scared to return home, daily. I knew by his actions towards me, it was the worse case of abuse I’d experienced. His fear, panick and fight to not go back, came through on schedule. I wish I could go back and stop what happened to him. He was innocent and loving when safe. He adored hugs, talking about animals and drawing. He was a beautiful boy who deserved a life and I will always cherish teaching him to wait, to smile, to be kind and joyful towards others and they willingly will be friends with you, but you must be calm and kind first. He tried at home but when the environment isn’t reflecting those qualities, it is hard for a little person to remember the secrets to being accepted and loved. And when the one who is older, chooses to hurt you instead of protect you, there is nothing to emulate, try or have hope for.
He was defeated before he could even try to be better.
I was standing in the office when the notification came across my phone. I read the article and immediately blanked, because the name was too familiar. I typically would avoid learning my clients last names. It would keep a distance and keep parents at neutral, my own way of separating the work from getting too attached and involved. But every now and then, names stick. I went on my day. Later, I received another, message. It floored me. It was him and it was horrific and violent. I’ve never felt this pain before, the ache of loss like that.
I feel the exact same way when reality hits nowadays and it is still as if seven years, of my life, never occurred, be. I tried turning to others but they can’t seem to acknowledge the reality of what I did for years. They seem to think I was a babysitter, a daycare worker, or Direct support only. I was in behavioral health, for a reason and it was because I was good at my job, extremely good at it and I knew obtaining a degree in that field would expose me to the real awfulness of abuse. I cannot expose myself to, again. I was sorting out triggers, years of my own issues and carrying others secrets. It was something that hit me too hard, a reality of my own past, while I was advocating, from the neglect I had experienced myself. I asked, I begged and cried, actually and was dismissed, time and time again. That was damaging. That was my warning, to not turn to the family I was raised in.
Imagine carrying it alone and having the one’s you do, turn to, mock, discredit and minimize your experience?
And then, have them say I never accomplished anything in my life?
I was blessed with having helped dozens of toddlers,children, others gave up on.
And now, I’m recalling all of them, their names, when and where.
That is what I have accomplished, career wise and look to when I’m told, I’ve done nothing. It was a small period of my life but it was rewarding, fate and it was enough to show me a path forward.
I’m still learning what that is.
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