Sometimes I just can’t say it.

A wise friend, who has been there and done this whole older child adoption thing, told me that having her kids write out their feelings was sometimes an easier way for them to get what they were feeling into words.  Duh.  I should have thought of that.  After all, what am I doing right now?

For the last few weeks Giggles has been keeping a journal.  It’s dual purpose.  She gets to express her feelings while working on her writing.  FPD found her journal yesterday as he was cleaning up.  She and I have worked on it together before, so she knows that I read what she writes, because we talk it over when she’s finished.  She’s even had ResponsiBoy help her write before because he is some kind of spelling savant.  FPD came and showed me one of her random entries last night.  In amongst all the princess stories that she writes and illustrations of random things like the airplane we rode to America on, she had a tiny little one-liner that nearly broke my heart.

Sometime I love my mom and dad but sometime I don’t know how to say I love my mom and dad.  
Cue the tears (from me, not her).  It must be so hard to have your whole world ripped away from you (even though I genuinely think she was happy to leave most of that world behind) and then to be thrust into a new world where all we do is try to force her to explain how she feels about all of this.  She’s 8 years old.  I’m 32.  I can’t explain how I feel about all of it.  Does she love us?  Probably.  I think she actually does love the fact that she’s safe here and trusts that she will always have clothes on her back and food on her plate.  Does that mean she loves FPD and I?  Maybe.  Has she ever said it?  Yeah, but I can tell it’s really hard for her.  
Last week was parent/teacher conferences again.  Remember Bubbly’s conference?  We didn’t do much better this time.  The conferences for the two children who came to me as babies (ResponsiBoy and Middle-Middle) went smoothly.  They’re great, they read so well, they’re such empathetic boys.  The Duo, not so much.  We know ShyGuy’s classroom behavior needed some reigning in.  We implemented a sticker chart for him to earn his privileges with good classroom behavior.  So far, he gets it and is doing well.  Okay, not SO bad. 
Apparently, Giggles spends a small portion of her day, nearly every day, crying in class.  Not real proud of the communication at school since I’m just finding out about this now.  They thought it occurred at home too, and that we were dealing with it.  We’re not, because she hardly ever cries here.  Is that a good thing or a bad thing?  I have no clue.  Does she feel like she can’t cry here, or does she feel like she doesn’t need to?  I like to think it’s the latter, and not the former, because every once in a while Responsiboy will come and tell me that she’s crying in her room.  I go and talk “at” her, because she is largely unresponsive, and we slowly work our way through it.  Those episodes are few and far between now.  Is that progress or is that her shutting down?  UGH!  Who knows? 

I don’t like talking about my feelings either (again, hence the blogging).  Talk therapy would be a joke for me.  Should I take her to it and have her sit there and stare at the therapist for an hour?  Maybe.  For now, we’re giving her some time.  We talked to her about what was said at the conference.  We focused a lot on how she is SUCH a smart girl.  She is reading at grade level now (after reading at a high kindergarten/low first grade level when she came here, she now reads at a low/mid third grade level,  do you know how proud I am of her?!? Wickedly proud).  She is awesome.  We want her outside to match her inside.  Happy and proud.  She just can’t find the words.  Sometimes, neither can I.  How did I get a daughter that is so like me in so many ways?  In fact, I have THREE daughters that are so like me, and each other, that it’s scary.  All of them are fiercely independent, highly motivated, stubborn little women.  Makes you really ponder the divine design of the family, doesn’t it?  Especially since not one of them is biologically related to each other, or me.  I’ve never met three girls who were more destined to become sisters.

–FullPlateMom,
who hugged Giggles and told her not to worry about telling her she loves me, I’ll do it enough for the both of us.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Amy says:

    Oh it is so hard isn’t it??? One thing that works good too is to write each other notes. A friend of mine suggested I start doing that with my daughter and it worked wonders. She keeps every single one I write to her and I keep her notes as well.:)

    Like

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