Happy Traumaversary? They've Moved Out of My Home, Would Someone Kindly Evict Them From My Brain?!!!!

Right smack dab between birthday celebrations and our wedding anniversary is our Traumaversary.

It was yesterday. 




Yesterday officially marked 3 years since our adoptees had their "conjoined meltdown" and the older of the two adoptees filed false allegations of abuse against her dad... then filed for (and was denied) a restraining order against both of us because as her sworn application states she "feared for her life."  Trauma, Drama, Devastation.  All so typically RAD. 

Well... Mother's Day I got a text... Father's Day hubby got a text and an email.  We rejoiced because we thought perhaps our persevering hope was winning out. 

Our oldest (bio) has made a point to be home for our birthdays.  We've told her she doesn't need to... but in reality her visit, her real-life-hugs and abundant love is the sweetest gift. 

We were dropping her at the airport last night... it seems a bomb threat along her plane's earlier path set her departure out a few hours past what was originally slated.  The airline explained she should arrive on time "in case" they were able to send plane off as originally scheduled.   This gave us the gift of a few more hours to  enjoy a leisurely meal at the airport before she departed.  I so totally didn't even realize yesterday was THE TRAUMAVERSARY. 

Today I got an invite to join a RAD support group from another adoptive mom parenting RAD who seems to be living our parallel universe RADwise.  I thanked her kindly and started to explain it's been ALMOST three years since we're empty nesters... and I need my focus to be less on what was... more on our future... then I realized... it's not almost three years... it's three years yesterday. 

Most days I'm doing fine.  I have "moments" where I feel deeply the pain they and their rescuers delight to inflict.  Their rescuers feel justified in their insanity because they have fallen into the trap of believing our RADs' RADtypical charm and deception. 

Smack dab in the middle of our oldest child's visit... I WOKE UP ANGRY.  Most days, when I contemplate RADs' gift to us... I'm hurt... I'm sad... but I was surprised how angry I was.  And that's how it hits me.  Right in the middle of abundant JOY here come those feelings.  It's the joyful happy memories that trigger me the most.  I feel so betrayed. 

I have been so betrayed. 

I continue to be betrayed. 

I told my husband I want so desperately to give up on them.  To close that door and never look back.  I don't want to be hurt by them or their "rescuers" anymore.    I've hidden most of their pictures from my sight around the house.  The photos are not destroyed... I think one day I might regret losing those photos.  I just don't want to see them now. 

I want to evict them from my brain. 

Meanwhile most of the "Somebody That I Used to Know" song reminds me of them... because I haven't recognized them in years.  In three years... and counting. 

Blissful Ignorance and a Rearview Mirror

Yesterday, seated behind my hubby at lunch, there was a woman and two young boys (about 10 years old?) I assumed they were mother and sons.

One kid pretty much had his face to the plate and was gobbling his food. The other one was so sweet... so attentive, so sincere, communicative, from time to time he'd offer his mom a taste of something she had asked about on his plate. I got teary... remembering when my son was in "the beautiful years"

Billy noticed me tearing up and asked what was bothering me... all I could choke out was "I'll tell you in the car" 'cause I was on the verge of the big ugly cry.

Hubby goes into "surveillance mode" looking for any of the usual faces of betrayal (who we knew via the church we raised the kids in) that might be in our midst... he says "oh, I see... is that Lisa over there?" Nodding toward the large woman with curly blonde hair and glasses...

Just a few seconds before hubby thinks he's solved it...  directly behind my hubby... facing me, is the charming  distraction that drove me to the brink of sobbing.  The boy says loudly and clearly "My mom NEVER packs me any lunch!"

I tell my hubby "No, it's not Lisa... oh and Crisis Averted" and in one second I go from choked up to giggling the sad giggle with the realization that the "charming little boy" was probably more like our son than I ever realized!

Part of me wants to go back through the beautiful years, now that I UNDERSTAND the diagnosis of RAD so much better... and realize how sick they probably have always been... while I was blissfully ignorant.

Part of me is so very grateful to have been clueless!