Girly used to be a serial spitter.  I am not really sure where she learned it.  As young child, she spat on the ground frequently.  A pint-sized Nordic beauty – hurling forceful wads of juicy spit onto the pavement from her puckered mouth.  I never tried to stop her, it seemed like one of those battles that wouldn’t be worth it.  Plus, her aim was pretty good so it never caused any trouble.  Some family members detested that she spit outside on the ground like a tobacco chewing baseball player but I refused to take up arms against the behavior. 

Eventually, she started spitting at or on people.  Now her spitting was a problem that had to be addressed and it was a behavior I didn’t understand.  I had no idea if it was something she opted for instead of violence or if it served some other purpose.  I wasn’t sure what triggered it.  I was never around when she spat at someone and I had no clue how to make it stop.

One day, I was giving her one of my stupid lectures.  I was sitting on the couch, she was against the fireplace kind of sitting on the hearth / mantel thing (which is off the ground, like a bench).  There were about five feet of space between us.  She was just blankly sitting there, presumably listening to me (lol). 

Then I saw it.  She was producing spitty foam on her lips.  Clusters of shiny bubbles — and she had that stone-cold steely look in her eyes. 

I stopped talking and froze trying to quantify what I was seeing.  Then, I impulsively hopped down on all fours so I was about eye level with her.  Matching her resolved facial expression about six inches from her face, the battle line was drawn.

Me:  Do it.  I dare you.  Do it and see what happens.

We stayed eye-locked in determined silence, the saliva still bubbled up poofy on her lips.  As the moments passed, my brain started cycling around wildly.  If she DID spit on me, what do I do?  Do I spit back at her?  Would she even care?  Do I spank her?  I’m the one that dared her to do it so isn’t this technically my doing? What the hell do I do if she spits right in my face?  Being spat on by this tiny tyrant wouldn’t trigger me in a major way, it’s just saliva, but being spit on or at is something that’s profoundly triggering to other people (especially some adults) but I have no idea what to do.

Our eyes stayed locked for several moments, neither of us moved one muscle. 

Suddenly.

Girly: [sucks the saliva back into her mouth without changing her expression]

I backed off immediately.  I almost started to gloat.  I’m an adult with a fully formed brain for crying out loud. I just won a battle with a small yet powerful human using a total front and I didn’t even have a clue what the hell I was going to do if she actually followed through with spitting on me. There was nothing to gloat about.  I’m so glad I kept my mouth shut.

The whole battle had taken place primarily in silence.  The only words spoken were the ones where I dared her.  The rest of the battle was non-verbal.  I have no idea what was going on in her head during those frozen moments but I definitely know what was going inside of mine. 

Therapist:  A child that suffers trauma before they have the ability to speak can’t talk about their trauma. 

Behavior is… language.  It’s a regressive form but it is a form of communication nevertheless.  Infants and tiny tots (animals, too) can’t speak yet they can communicate. This is completely acceptable behavior for animals, babies and very young children.  Girly was able to speak (she was about six I think) but she would frequently drift back to an emotional age where speech wasn’t available. Words were simply not available for her to use in tense high running moments (which were frequent).  The burden was mine to understand what she was trying to communicate to me (or anyone else) with her behavior.  Instead of just seeing unwanted behaviors as something I needed to stop, I tried to understand the message she was sending or more importantly, the underlying feeling.  This not only helped me understand the message she was trying to send, it gave me a task so I wouldn’t get sucked into the storm. 

Frustration.

Anger.

Fear.

Tired.

Hungry.

Discomfort.

Injustice.

Therapist:  A child can usually tell you “where” they feel something.  Try asking her.

I started asking her where she felt something.  She could answer that question.  It was usually her stomach.  I tried to get creative with language.  I used words she could visualize like wobbly, bumpy, pokey or pop / popping.  We used the color chart a lot.  She could point to a color and connect it a feeling.  She could not say, “I feel a bit frustrated and need a moment to collect myself”.  I had to pay close attention to her body language.  I had to look around for triggers.  There were tell-tale signs things were getting wobbly.  Her jaw would jut out.  She would rub Blankie hard on her nose with a far-away look in her eyes. She would get red, like she was overheating and have a wild look in her eyes.  She would get loud with an broad, uncomfortable smile plastered on her face. 

When these more subtle clues weren’t addressed, they would quickly spiral to other behaviors.  Attack someone.  Run away.  Cover her ears and scream.  Grab at things. Throw things.  Get into stuff.  Destroy things. Chew on things.  Harm animals.  Set a fire.  Self-harm.

Spit.

In the middle of an episode (well, preferably in the early stages), I’d wait or or make an opening and ask her where she feels it or ask her what color she was.  It took practice but at least she had an alternative way to communicate what she was feeling as opposed to being led around by the nose by her feelings which always led to her being in trouble.  It was not just a redirection, though I am a big fan of redirection, it helped her build a vocabulary that turned feelings from behaviors into words. 

This was a difficult process because I really couldn’t understand it.  She COULD speak. She had speech available all the time for other stuff so why was it just getting wiped out? I don’t have a trauma history.  I’m neruo-typical.  As a child I no major problem getting my feelings into words. 

Then, I remembered what it was like before I was trauma trained and didn’t know any trauma lingo.  Going into meetings at the school were extremely frustrating for me.  I kept saying, “She had a rough start, she’s wound tight, she just needs to be able unwind”.  I wasn’t wrong but no one would listen to me. I tried using different variations, it didn’t help.  A few years later, when I DID have the lingo in my vocabulary, my arguments and rebuttals changed.  They became effective (to a point, battling the school during those early years were a nightmare). 

The point is, I didn’t have the language I needed to explain what needed to be explained therefore, I was dismissed. I have a fully formed brain with a plethora of life experiences to draw from.  Being unjustly dismissed, despite creating a high level of frustration, didn’t dysregulate me to the point I attacked someone.  (Though I admit, it definitely crossed my mind but, I didn’t act on it).  

Once I knew the language, I was more effective. 

Along with using visual words, asking where she felt something and using the color chart, I started talking aloud about my own feelings, not to her, to myself.  I really listened to the things I was saying about uncomfortable feelings.  I was mindful about the script I was creating that was going out of my mouth — and into her head.  If I was frustrated about something, I would describe what I was feeling — and [try to!] end with a resolution.  Along the way, I came across a grounding technique where you identify something you hear, smell and touch.  If she was getting wonky, I’d go through the list with her.    

Me:  I hate doing all these dishes.  But, when I’m done the dishes will be clean and I will tell myself I did a good job.  So, I’m just gonna do them and get it over with so I can move on. 

When I was done, I would congratulate myself. 

Me: Why am I getting stuck at all these lights?  I’m so irritated!  Stupid lights.  Then again, maybe if I made all the lights I’d end up in an accident up the road so I’ll just do my breathing exercise.  (Inhale for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4 — something like that). 

Me:  I feel all nervous and weird and sad today.  I think I’m really worried about tomorrow or thinking about something bad that happened a while ago.  I’m definitely close to black.  [Slap my magnet between blue and black].  I wonder what I could do to get up a couple of colors.  What color are you?  

Girly:  [Puts her magnet on a higher color]

Me:  I’m going to try to get up where you are.  I will think of something I’m grateful for.  Um, I’m grateful I already got groceries and filled up my gas tank because I’m definitely too tired to do it today.  Do you have any ideas of something good?

Girly:  Your face isn’t on fire?

Me:  Good one!  You’re totality right, my face is NOT on fire.  I’m super happy about that.  Thank you for the idea.  [I move my magnet up a color or two].

Me:  OH MY GOD, WHY is my co-worker so stupid?  I swear I can’t take it anymore!

Girly:  What do you hear? 

Me:  What?

Girly:  What do you hear?? 

Holy shit.  She’s not only listening to me when I’m asking her what she hears, sees and smells – she’s doing it back at me.  

I used to have a thriving little mediation practice going on before Girly moved in. I meditated daily for a long time. For me, the very act of confronting a feeling directly (by simply acknowledging it and feeling it) often reduced the severity of the feeling almost instantly. When I run from feelings or fight feelings, they seem to get stronger.  To me, it feels like feelings are determined to be heard one way or another and they can be relentless. Unruly toddlers that WILL be seen. Once they are acknowledged, they simmer down. Feelings are powerful and I logically know they can’t actually hurt me.  I’m not sure a child actually knows a feeling can’t hurt them considering the fact they don’t have a fully formed brain and a plethora of life experiences to draw from.  I don’t know what sort logic they have at their disposal. 

I gave it a try.

Me:  Your feelings can’t hurt you. If you just go on and feel them, they calm down. It’s the running from them and fighting them that causes all the trouble. 

She was only about five when I told her this.  She looked at me like she understood what I was saying.  It was one of our first turning points.  I could tell by the look on her face she understood me, she didn’t actually say anything.

After I was trauma trained, I tried other approaches with her and shared with her what I learned. 

Therapist (or maybe it was a book, both, who knows):  The higher brain and lower brain do not communicate with each other. 

For the first few years, Girly’s behavior went outward against a hostile world.  After a while, it started going inward.  While I was glad the aggression toward others was subsiding, she started to take it out on herself.  It felt like I could either let her grow up hurting others, or hurting herself.  I hated both of those choices.  She knew something was different about her.  She knew she couldn’t do anything right.  She was in school with peers that weren’t like her.  She was always in trouble.  She was doing what her brain was programmed and designed to do; survive.  She was scanning for threats non-stop and finding them everywhere.  She was trying to learn from all the information being hurled at her but her impulses (to survive?) overrode everything. 

The times I was able to put myself in her shoes and see the world from her survival wiring perspective, it felt like I was suffocating.  

I tried so many things to bring her to heel during this time.  Lots of failures.  Lots of losing my temper.  Lots of frustration.  I had a lot if information swirling around in my head.  I felt like there needed to be a mediation or something.  Bring to the table the lower brain of a traumatized child, the developing cortex that’s trying to make sense of everything and the child herself who was caught in the middle.  She had things that needed to be said but didn’t know how to say them.  She was using a primitive language to express herself.  The fault was mine for not understanding it. 

Cesar Milan (The Dog Whisperer) made a very interesting point.  He said he couldn’t fix a dog’s unwanted behavior unless the dog presented the behavior.  That’s where the correction needed to happen.  Timing is crucial.  The fact he would intervene right when the behaviors were occurring is what made him so successful at retraining the brain of dogs.   If I really wanted to stop these challenging behaviors, I needed to see them an opportunity.  This gave me another task to focus on as opposed to just getting sucked into the drama. 

I also decided to call a truce.      

Me: Your lower brain is trying to help.  It thinks it is doing the right thing.  It is trying to save you.  I know it pushes you to do things that get you into trouble but it doesn’t mean to get you in trouble.  Just because it isn’t doing the best job doesn’t mean it isn’t trying to do its best.  I think we should thank it for trying to protect you. 

She responded to this in a positive way.  Keep in mind, I never had ANY idea what she would or wouldn’t respond to.  There was so much trial and error it makes my head spin but I remember this so clearly.  She was interested.  I could see her “thinking” about it.  I wasn’t bashing her brain for doing its job, and I wasn’t bashing her for letting it lead her around by the nose.  I wasn’t blaming her for things that were beyond her control, I was seeking a way to get her some control.  When things got away from her, if her behavior was fear based, we both thanked her brain for doing what it thought was the right thing to do – but also applied a correction.  Sometimes it came in the form of looking at the whole scenario and identifying the “scary” parts but then acknowledging that they really weren’t the mortal threat her brain was perceiving. 

This was such a long process.  This process was probably the hardest because it also included watching her ALL the time.  When I was tired, the last thing I wanted to do was monitor my dysregulated kid with wolf ears and try to intervene properly over and over.  

It is really, REALLY important to note that – punitive measures don’t work with a child like mine.  If punishing her worked, she’d of been a perfect child.  Punishments actually made her worse.  Sticker charts, reward systems, time outs, taking things away, attaching a negative response to her unwanted behavior — none of that shit did any good because she wasn’t CHOOSING her behaviors.  Behaviors were being blurted out impulsively out of fear from a part of her brain she had no control over.  When she regressed to a younger age, the brain of that younger age was the only brain available for her to work with.

Later on, we built a system where she could cash in positive reports from school for goodies but during those first three years, nope.  She was just along for a miserable ride and her lower brain was calling all the shots – in an effort to protect her.  Telling her to “stop hitting and spitting!” was tantamount to telling an infant to “shut up and stop crying!”.  She was just trying to get needs met that went unmet at a crucial developmental stage when behavior was the only communication she had at her disposal.

The message she was trying to send wasn’t that she was bad, incapable of learning or didn’t give a shit – it was a message that said, “I’m hurting a lot and I need help”. So, I started listening… and helping.

*This was a really hard post to write because the experiences themselves were so choppy.  In the beginning, I didn’t know anything about trauma.  It was a learning process.  The chronological order of events is messed up.  I found one topic quickly led to another.  I wasn’t expecting the “Punitive Measures Don’t Work” thing to pop up in this post but, it belongs here.  The truce was a big deal.  It gave her some power.  She developed a legitimate relationship with her lower brain.  She stopped hating herself.  Thanking her lower brain or trying to hear the message she was sending, it helped me to have a “job” when shit started going off the rails.  It stopped me from panicking and drifting right to a punitive measure.  I know how frustrating it is to live in a house with a child that struggles with cause and effect.   Most of us were traditionally parented – but that’s a dead end for a kid like Girly.  A child like Girly doesn’t give one shit if you take away all their toys.  They do not care because in their minds, they’ve already lost it anyway.  Literally, getting something they want immediately gets associated with losing it.  They are black holes of need – needs that were never met.  So, best to get ahead of the whole thing and not care about anything.  Finding something she wanted bad enough to use as leverage (because she healed enough to believe she wouldn’t lose it) took a few years.  I mean, imagine a child that wants absolutely nothing to the point you have nothing you can use to barter with.  Or, wants it and gets it and destroys it before something else takes it away.  It’s powerful, when you think about it.  A small child is able to attach to absolutely nothing to protect themselves and they are doing it without even thinking about it.