We dropped the bomb

So after wondering when the best time would be to drop the bomb on the kiddo regarding the social worker we spoke with last week, we decided Saturday after supper and while folding laundry was it. Although it went better than I anticipated, she was not a happy camper.  I was picturing a 13-year old pulling a 3-year old temper tantrum and while it got close, we were able to speak with her and calm her down.  I think she was more horrified by the idea that she hadn't fooled the guidance councillor at school and with the fear that the councillor will tell everyone at school.

Once we got that one out of the way, we were able to explain to her that we felt like we didn't have a choice.  That her behaviour was totally out of the realm of our experience and that we needed some advice.  And that despite her assurances to the contrary, we couldn't just take her word for it that the issue was resolved.  That we wanted her to develop the tools to deal with frustrations/stress without resorting to self-injurious behaviours. It took about an hour but she calmed down enough to smile a little and talk with us.

Afterwards, she and I went for a looooonnnnng car drive (about 2 hours) where we talked about various issues surrounding the cutting and why we wanted her to speak with the social worker.  I really wanted to stress with her that she was important and that her needs were obviously not being met and that we as parents needed to apologize to her for letting her feel that way. 

Self-injury is not a new thing with her; it's something she has done since she was little (picking her fingers till they bled, destroying her work at school...). She even admitted that.  This was now into something we didn't know how to handle and although happy that her friends were trying to help her through it, we didn't see the harm in getting someone else's perspective.  This person would lay out some ground rules for everyone to follow and would be able to guide/counsel her on recognizing the stressors and how to help her deal with them in a more constructive (rather than destructive) manner. It would be confidential and no one need know unless she told them.

I also stressed that she wasn't allowed to throw a book at Taylor (the friend who squealed on her at school) as he was a good friend.  In the end, I don't think she's happy about it but I hope she is resigned to going.  That's all I want.  And for her to be happy and to stop hurting herself.

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.