This Mother Wants Bubble Wrap

DBT (dialectical behavior therapy*) "wise mind" model  from THIS SOURCE.

I want some cushioned wrap, maybe pink, to protect our teen girl, so she will not break when dropped or squeezed between hard places or bouncing on a horse on a rutted path. So she won't lose her way and enter an unsafe place, never to reverse her road again.

We can't wrap them in bubble wrap, our first DBT therapist said when I worried. She told me that in several conversations.

I've had fears and scares with our older daughter, Figgy, and met them with determined efforts to fix and cure mental health issues. As if. We parents can maybe help hold the reins when kids are young (after all, we have traveled unpaved roads ourselves), but we cannot clear away the bumps and rocks on the trail. We might help burnish the saddle for safer, more comfortable rides and hope the road rises with our girls and their hopes and dreams as they trot out of our sight. I held onto my cowboy hat as Fig's path circled dangerous dramas, veering toward and away from them. She is doing quite well now, thanks to grace, luck, fate, timing, a keen brain, artistic eye, genetics, loving family, true friends, professional mentors and hard work. And gradually, she/we have learned to face down bandits on life's trail rather than retreat.

So this is not my first rodeo, as they say, on this journey with Punch, who will turn 17 this Monday. 

And yet I am still surprised when I come upon a teen behavior that scares me. Many of her peers (I can't say "friends," because most truly are not) bring on and bring out the worst inclinations, unloved girls who are doing very unsafe things involving, for example, social media photography, running away from home, disrespect for themselves and adults and yes, even behavior that brings in the police at tender young ages. 

But I know now how to apply DBT "accepts" (a noun), to use my wise mind and not gallop with abandon in my emotional one. DBT tenets do help and so do distress tolerance skills, a nurturing school environment, trained therapists for both mother and child, Dan being present and involved, extended family and friends, perspective and smart doctors. I am grateful for all of those supports this morning. And also for boyfriend GREAT SMILE DEEP THINKER, who shares a lot of wise insights with Punch. But I remind myself that he has flaws, too, like the rest of the world. Wise mind. Acceptance.

Hope you have a good day.

*Defined on the internet as "evidence-based psychotherapy designed to help people with emotional dysregulation."

EVENING NEWS, 7:06 p.m. I want the bubble wrap even more based on this afternoon's events. But I took a warm bath, made a healthy salmon/sauteed mushrooms/polenta family dinner (that the teen might not touch, but vegan Fig will eat the last two) and am going to 7:30 restorative yoga class now. Booked it last week. 

5 Good Things Today

1. A tough 10 a.m. therapy appt for Punchy in our home (yes, despite Black Friday turkey coma) led to some key lessons and messages for me and Dan. I heard a truth after the cruelty (from her), the shouting (from me), the peace and levelheadedness (from Dan) and the hard-won insights (from Miss Des). I can only hope the same will be true for Punch. But actually, as we all know, I can only speak for myself.
2. Reflected and wrote an important email.
3. Took a nice hot bath--Punch went to visit Mimi + Poppy til Sunday.
4. Dan and I filled large dinner plates with precious Thanksgiving leftovers from our backyard meal for four: turkey (me); salmon (him); stuffing; creamed onions w a shake of smoky paprika; mashed turnips; buttermilk mashed potatoes with chives; green beans; cranberry sauce; and Punchy’s special sweet potato/pumpkin pudding bake topped with mini marshmallows (Dan). She made two, one vegan for Figgy. The marshmallows on both were vegan DANDIES (no gelatin), part of my Whole Foods order. For dessert: berries and a pour of cream for Dan; yogurt w pumpkin purée, cinnamon, ginger and cacao nibs for me.
5. We watched "The Farewell," starring Awkwafina. It was good (but be prepared, it’s in Chinese, so subtitles). The soundtrack, especially at the end, is a rich dessert soufflé, rising to a lofty height. I’m downloading those songs for my Spotify playlist tomorrow.

Tempest in a Teacup

Again, rambunctious Punch, and again, I’m so ready to rest and dream!

Her kind therapist—we have been seeing her since Punch was 6—has told me not to take the disrespectful behavior personally but to know that when the little brunetti sees me now, she sees NOT MOM, NOT MOM, almost a reflex.

It’s fallout because her birth mom did not give up maternal rights and thus, we cannot adopt Punch. It must be a very confusing place for a young girl to be in.

It’s not as though there are calls or cards from birth mom on birthdays or holidays, or attendance at soccer, gymnastics, dance shows, anything.

There are two sides to every story, I know.

I adore Punchy and do not like the disrespectful comments she throws my way.

I think she thinks we somehow stole her from her birth mom. I recently came right out and told her we had nothing to do w the state taking her. All we knew was that a beautiful baby girl was delivered to our home straight from the hospital, at about 4 weeks old, by a caseworker for the state.

I remember thinking that March night that the nurses in the baby ward must have cuddled and comforted her, sang lullabies, sent her off with prayers and good-fairy wishes. She looked pampered and loved, freshly bathed, baby hair neatly brushed. I thought of the peers I had known—especially a pretty, silky-haired colleague in the marketing department at Seventeen Magazine, who used to hold and rock AIDS babies in a NYC hospital.

Punchy was not an AIDS baby but did have to stay in the hospital for weeks for another reason I do not want to write here.

She could have landed in many places, but Fate brought her to us.

And how naive were we to think there wouldn’t be lots of bumps in the road?

It’s like falling in love. You see the sweetness and joy, feel the impulse to care and love.

You look at the apple of your eye, in this case wearing a lavender fleece onesie, accessorized with a baby bottle and smelling powdered and pure, and go all in, losing the clarity of mind to consider possible roadblocks ahead.

That she might profess to hate you years later. Yet you know she loves and counts on you, that you are a steady rock on her journey. So you are not going anywhere, even when it’s hard.

On that note, sleep beckons, to recharge and renew us for a fresh tomorrow.

Good night.

Day 8: Still Just One Day at a Time

Can't do too much too soon. Getting used to sleep apnea [CPAP] machine, which technician dropped off yesterday. Bought new bubble bath for a nice treat. And Bosc pears to slice and caramelize with a pinch of tawny brown sugar and cinnamon.

Went to therapy today. Respect and trust my therapist [blog code name: Private Benjamin]. But we differ on some significant things. He thinks if sugar is a problem, because it is addictive for some people, that said person should not put herself in the way of it via holiday parties with lavish dessert tables and well-stocked bars. But said person disagrees, does not want to skip the parties. I could conceivably, as I did a couple times last year, bring a big crystal bowl of fresh red strawberries. They disappeared. People loved them.

Didn't have the heart to tell V. today that I am making chocolate biscotti to bring to my book group on Friday night. You see, biscotti contain less sugar and butter than ordinary cookies and are hard, so you can't really race through a handful of soft bites. We read a book based in Italy.

Onward. More to come.

Good Night

Rainy day, school doesn't start till Sept. 7 for Punch, doin' my best. Smooth sailing for us all.

TCOY

1. Walked to and from town, 50 min, with groceries on way back.
2. Private Benjamin. But sometimes, I find therapy scary and challenging and I leave with a basket of fear. I think my therapist thinks I'm in denial about some issues but I don't think I am. That's a quandary.
3. Falafel w vegs in pita.