The Dr. will see you now

So we met with a social worker on Wednesday evening.  Not one related to our CLSC - that would be just useless and frustrating.  She's runs a home for kids with disabilities (which gives her an interesting perspective) and although she's only been working in private practice for a couple of years, she's worked as a social worker for over 20 years.  Her focus during much of that time has been on adolescents and their behaviours.

I found it to be very useful.  It was reassuring to know that our approach so far seems to be the right one and that some things we were worried about can be downplayed.  Her reluctance to eat with her friends for example.  We have been harping on it but in the social worker's opinion, as long as she eats at home which she most certainly does, we don't need to worry about it too much.

Our next step is to bring Emma with us for a meeting.  The social worker will set out the ground rules and establish a baseline for behaviour (ours and hers) and meet one on one with Emma for a couple of sessions to work on developing some strategies for coping with her stress and anxiety.  I found it really interesting how in laying everything out, the anxiety issue has really come to the front.  Makes you wonder sometimes how we sort didn't see it.  Actually that's not true - we did see but just thought "well, she's a kid, she'll get past it at some point".  And she might on her own but the reality is she's hurting herself and that has to stop.

I'd like to be able to trust again.  Right now, that's sort of not an option - not about this anyway.  I found the session really useful.  Now we just have to get her to it.  She'll be pissed but that's life.

Oh my, plinched fingers anyone?

So yesterday, Emma broke her pinky finger at school.  A rogue basketball was the perpetrator.  Apparently it took a wrong bounce and smacked her finger.  The boys gym teacher took a look at it during the lunch break and suggested that it might be broken.  So she and I met up after school and walked in the Emergency room. 

Like a big girl she got xrays and then they put on a massive splint.  We have to make an appointment with plastic surgery in two weeks for a follow-up.  However, when the nurse put the splint on, she saw the marks on her arms.  It was almost funny the way they did it, but once she was finished wrapping her finger, she directed us towards a private exam room and told us to wait.  When the doctor strode in she asked me to leave and according to Emma she said the nurse had noticed the marks and did I (her mother) know about them and was she speaking to anyone.  Emma said yes and then said she was speaking to the guidance councillor at school. They (there were 2 docs) said okay and then left.  I admit I'm a little surprised that they didn't confirm with me 'cause she could have been lying but frankly the marks would have been hard to miss - especially when the nurse was splinting her arm.

After supper we sort of talked about it again, and apparently Sam's mother (one of her friends) is a therapist specializing in teenage issues and she's trying to therapize Emma through Sam.  It's kind of funny but I can see how Emma's getting a little annoyed. She just needs to realize that people are worried.  We are being in a pain in the ass because we care - if we didn't we wouldn't bother.

Obviously she's got lots of friends she can count on which is very nice.  I would like her to speak to someone impartial however.  Still working on it.  We will be meeting with the therapist for the first time tomorrow so I'll let you know how it goes.

Perception is reality

So not much to update yet.  I've made an appointment with a therapist for hubby and I.  We're looking for coping strategies and ways to help kiddo deal with whatever is making her cut.  It was a very stressful week but I think my brain is starting to come to terms with it.  I do admit however, that I heard Pink's F*** Perfect this morning on my walk up from the train and I almost started to cry.  The lyrics just seem to say everything I'd like the kiddo to believe.

Perception is a weird thing.  I know alot of people pick on Dr. Phil but he had some truisms that just made sense.  One of my favorites was "perception is reality".  It doesn't matter how hard someone tries to convince you of something - your perception is based on your reality; wether is a good reality of not is irrelevent; its your reality.  I think that's where kiddo is.  She's got all these people (including the school friend who tattled on her) telling her good things but she just doesn't want (or can't) choose to see it.

In the meantime we've hidden all the sharp objects that she could conceivably use to cut herself with and we continue to talk with her.  Maybe one day she'll be she's important enough to care about herself.

Dealing with scars

So we had a very interesting weekend.  Spent a good portion of it worrying about Emma and talking to her about what she is doing to herself.  It's very difficult to feel so helpless when my child is clearly hurting but all I can do is talk and hope that at some level she is hearing what I am saying.

In the meantime, I've spoken to the guidance councillor at school and I've set things in motion for hubby and I to met with a therapist.  We want to develop some strategies for how to deal with this.  I know Emma just wants to pretend it never happened but it did happen.  We can't ignore it.  Stress is a forever-kind of thing and the earlier she can establish coping mechanisms the better off she will be.  She also has to come to some kind of acknowledgement of what caused it.

It was really interesting talking to her; most of the time she was just 'yah; I know; blah, blah, blah'.  But every now and again, we'd see the truth lurking.  The truth is she is a scared little girl.  She was bullied in grade 5 and it has left some pretty phenomenal scars the depth of which we never quite realized.  Perphas if we had realized we wouldn't be here today, but we didn't.  Now we have to move forward and try to help her heal.

That's the best we can do, I think.

Life goes one one cut at a time

So, it's been quite some time since I've written and quite a lot has happened: I was on strike for three months (not a pleasant time), Veronica continues to grow and gain skills, we've decided that we are going to attend the FAST gala next and we discovered that Emma has been cutting herself.

No one ever tells you that your so-called 'neuro-typical child might very well be the more difficult one.  8 years ago we received this horrendous diagnosis of Angelman syndrome and the doctors tell you what they know (and eventually you figure out they didn't really know what they were talking about); this diagnosis that will take over your life and leave you feeling utterly helpless.  Docs do what they do best and prescribe physiotherapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy and just about every other kind of therapy you can think of.  And before you know it they send you out on your own to deal with the diagnosis. 

No one ever thinks that the rest of the family has also just been diagnosed with this horrible truth.

I have no idea if this has anything to do with Emma's cutting but I figure it must come into play at some level.  She's always been highly embarassed by her sister.  God, on some level I get it.  You just want to be a normal child and not stand out for the wrong reasons and here you've got this sibling that no matter where you go, people stare... On the other hand , she's got this sister who is so loving its not funny.

So we discovered she was cutting several months ago.  I got suspicious when I realized that she was coming out of the shower in the morning and getting dressed right away - I mean with her cardigan and everything.  So one morning, I asked her to pull up her sleeves; and she refused.  Eventually, I tackled her and pulled up the sleeves and saw the marks.  As horrified as I was I was relieved: at least we knew what we were up against.  We did lots of research into how to help and we decided on a tack that seemed to work.  We were checking her arms on a regular basis and talking to her about it and after a while it seemed to get better. 

Then last week, I get a phone call from her gym teacher saying that she hasn't participated in class in about a month and that when she tried to get her to wear a gym uniform, she came out wearing her cardigan on top.  Seriously, and you're trying to hide this?  Then on Friday, I received another call from one of the guidance councillors.  He must have been surprised when I said I knew she was cutting.  What I didn't know, was that often once the first marks are found, cutters move to another part of the body.  She had: her thighs look like ribbons... This was discovered when we confronted her about some bloody kleenex in her pocket and blood stains on her sweatpants. 

I'm at a loss; she won't talk about why, she doesn't want to talk to anyone, she just wants to pretend it never happened... Well, we can't leave it like that.  Tomorrow I have to make a phone call to the councillor and tell him that yes, indeed she has moved to her legs, I have to call our employee assistance program to get a referral for a therapist - we need to figure out how to deal with this.

Oh, my heart hurts for her.