I have written before about “marking the good,” especially when you are parenting a kid from hard places and with attachment issues; heck anytime, really. If you are parenting teens or tweens or many or special ones, ya better try to remember to mark the good.
One of my heroes and blog friend Lisa has recently had a few posts about what has worked and the positive changes. Go there and be encouraged! It got me thinking, and reminded me to look again (Yes, we moms have to remind ourselves to do that some days. Ok, me.) for those positive changes instead of merely looking at the crowded to-do list. Therefore, as spring is upon us (hooray!), I want to mark a good that is ever so timely:
Yup, it’s raining again. Not snow, anymore, thank goodness. Spring is upon us. Which means we have entered the rainy season; which in my neck of the woods means downpours and crashing storms, tornadoes, hail, straight line winds, and just a whole lotta water.
It’s been awhile since we’ve had a bunch of rain, and I kinda….forgot.
I forgot about how Marta reacts to rain.
I think I mighta just boxed the whole thing up and set it away in denial.
Because for this particular girl, rain is a big trigger.
It is a trigger to a whole trauma cascade reaction.
|Rain in Addis. Rachel Landman, Under African Skies blog|
Last rainy season, Marti had only been home a little over six months, ok, eight to be precise (yes, I was counting….). We had experienced a few rainstorms the first few months she was home, and they always put her into a sad mood and she became very out of sorts and anxious, often angry.
But last spring, as we entered the rainy season, we hit a whole new level. Marta has loss from cars in the rain, her father. This is a loss, huge of course, that perhaps wasn’t fully grieved, I don’t know. But the onset of rain here made it all come gushing forth in it’s own short-looped torrent.
Every time it rained last spring, without fail, it also rained a talking loop that continued for the duration of the storm. This was a very hard downward spiral for her, and all we/I could do was listen. Again. And again. And say small comforting words or sounds, be there, and listen some more. The need seems to be to say it, out loud, to be heard. I don’t know how many times, or how many times were or are needed. But, the need was relentless and unleashed with the rain. Much the same way as the rain fell, so did this torrent of words and sad.
We had rainstorms and sad storms.
And now it is raining again.
But, and this is huge: it seems her clouds are clearing.
She has spoken of “Ethiopia, rain, very bad, hard, car die.”
But, she also has spoken, more, of “Rain nice. No snow. Flowers good. School ok.”
It seems her sad storms are healing a bit.
Because, so far, this spring, rain is just wet.
Rain is not a trigger to spiral cascade of unbearable grief.
The memories surely arise, how can they not?
But I rejoice to see this and pause to give her a big grin and hug.
Because this year, now, she can laugh that her puppy HATES to go out in the rain and shivers and shakes and balks. She scolds her pup and rubs her off with a towel, laughing.
We can talk about hair and rain and oh my goodness crazy mess.
She mentioned cars and the rain, once so far. But then moved on after a hug.
Because now, maybe my girl can see too, progress.
Rain doesn’t have to be scary or freezing sadness.
Maybe it is now ok for her to feel it: rain is just wet.
So I’m finding the galoshes, and marking the good.