How is Daffy doing, you ask? Not well.
Less than 72 hours from the time the girls moved in, Daffy lost it. The girls were in their room playing and suddenly we heard a blood curdling scream come from April. Mickey went running in to find that Daffy had kicked April. Completely unacceptable. Daffy knows better. Mickey carried Daffy kicking and screaming from the room. She sat in a chair just outside the girls bedroom wailing and sobbing hysterically while yelling things like “Just throw me on the street! Just kill me! I don’t deserve to live!” Once I got Daisy & April settled down, I went to tend to Daffy. I asked her to follow me to my bathroom (which has come to be known as my hiding spot and office for privacy). She continued sobbing while I tried desperately to understand her melt down. She said that she had only cried that hard two other times in her life- one being the day she was removed from her birth family and the other was the day that she learned one of the pre-adoptive families had changed their mind about moving forward to adopt her and Donald. I was crushed hearing that the choice I had made to move the girls into our home could possibly compare to the two most horrible moments in her life.
The week progressed with Daffy on edge. The progress she had made since being with us was definitely deteriorating. Thursday morning the girl’s noise woke us at 6am at which time I moved Daffy into our room and all the girls went back to sleep. I woke them at 7:15am to get ready for school. Little did I know at the time, the girls had not gone to sleep AT ALL until 6am when I moved Daffy. They slept for only an hour and fifteen minutes before heading off to school. You can just imagine how fun my afternoon was. Daffy came home and within minutes was in tears that lasted the next 3 hours.
Saturday was, by far, the worst explosion we have seen from Daffy yet. I had made plans for her to spend the day with a friend and then sleep over their house. I knew she needed a break from the girls and that seemed to be the perfect way to implement that. That morning she just couldn’t get out of her own way. I realized she hadn’t taken her meds yet so I asked her to come take them and to then take a shower. She started melting down, threw the meds, poured the bottle of water on the floor and began kicking and hitting at me. Those of you that have been following my blog know that this is NOT Daffy’s MO. Sure, she has her moments (after all, she IS a 10 year old pre-teen), but she is not generally agressive and especially not “out of the blue.” Long story short, I ended up restraining her. She kicked and pinched and bit at me for a while, but eventually calmed down enough that I could release her. I laid with her as she sobbed. Finally I held her face in my hands so I could look her directly in the eye and reminded her how much I love her. I told her that she will never be going anywhere because she is adopted now, that this is forever. I told her that I know how hard things have been for her but that we need to stick together.
Ultimately, I decided that she should still go with her friend. It was clear that she needed space, needed a break, a distraction. She went and had a great time. She seemed quite refreshed when she came back on Sunday. Tomorrow, my cousin will be taking her for the day and overnight. She will bring her back on Thanksgiving. I am hoping to set something up for her later in the weekend as well.
Daffy met with her therapist today and one of the things that struck me most is that Daffy told the therapist she no longer feels safe inside. She told @abuggleslife this weekend “I don’t want my life to be Maybe Days anymore and it is again“…
Am I sacrificing the well being of one for the others?