LuLu has been out of the hospital for 9 days now, and in the aggregate, as I look back over my copious notes on her behaviors, things have been better. I do believe the addition of the supplements and anti-histamine into her regime has helped. We’ve only had a couple of “flare up” episodes, both of which were quickly extinguished.

But last night, right before bedtime, LuLu engaged in an obsessive, trauma-based behavior that she just can’t seem to stop. (I won’t share it here, because the explanation is long, the behavior is bizarre, and it’s not as important what she did, but rather why she did it.) I didn’t know about it and wouldn’t have known except that she was then giddy and “floppy” and couldn’t settle down to sleep (which hadn’t happened since she was has been home.) A bit of investigation and she was quick to tell me what was going on. (I’m blessed that she’s honest to fault.)

But, I was angry – completely and utterly angry! Our string of 9 “good” days with no major issues had come to a crashing halt. And while her behaviors weren’t dangerous, they were frustrating, because they represented the depth of her trauma and the breath of her obsessiveness. So, I did what every “normal” parent would do (and what obviously doesn’t work with this child) and I ranted at her for about 20 minutes. “When are you ever going to get past this?” “How are you ever going to grow up and be about to live on your own if you keep doing these things?” “Isn’t there anything in your brain that tells you this is a bad idea before you act on it?” (She replied “yes there is” to this last question and admitted that it was there, but the smallest voice and hard to listen to.)

Then, I came to my senses and realized that I was making things worse – feeding her already ultra-negative sense of self. I was able to make amends and help her calm enough to go to bed. But I was still angry.

And frankly, I’m still angry this morning. But I’m not sure who to be angry with. I could be angry at LuLu for “failing” once again, but I’ve been down that road long enough to know that her behaviors are truly a manifestation of her many disabilities and that if she could stop it, it’s highly probable she would stop it. I could be angry at her abusers so many years ago in China, a bunch of faceless people about whom I know nothing more than they neglected and abused (or allowed abuse to come to) my baby. I could be angry at God for whatever role genetics plays in all of her issues. I could be angry at myself for getting my hopes up and then allowing myself to get angry when she had a setback.

Truth is, I’m angry about all those things and at all those people. But I’ve been around this mountain so many times before. And it does no good. My anger at this whole situation doesn’t change a darn thing. If I stay in the anger too long, I will start to backslide too, right down that slippery slope and both LuLu and I will end up stuck down in the ravine.

So, today is a new day, and we’ll start again. And while I’m trying these days to acknowledge and accept my anger, I’m also trying to move on past it and “get on with our day”. Who knows, it could be our 10th good day in a row, with last night just being a small blip and not a major setback.

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