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Part 1

By Kathryn Taylor

Johnny left his family……..

He left his wife, 3 young children, and all his extended family and friends. He really did not want to go, but he knew he had to. His country was at war and they needed him to fight for their freedom. Even though he was a gentle, loving man, who avoided conflict with his wit and humor, Johnny was now faced with violence all around him. He was in a foreign country, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. He had to trust these men with his life………. and they had to trust him.

Months passed. The pain of missing his family and friends slowly

lost it’s sting. The trauma of conflict, blood, and constant danger took its toll on Johnny. He suffered the loss of comrades in battle. He nearly lost his own life ….twice. He was in a constant state of hyper-vigilance, never fully resting, always watching his back. He became more careful not to get too close to any of his buddies. His job was to do his duty and do it well. He wanted everyone else to do the same. The better they did it, the sooner they would go home. What kept him going was to know that his sacrifice was for his family and his country.

More time passed. Johnny began to lose sight of who he was. Survival mode now ruled. He had to kill or be killed. With each passing day, his hatred for his enemy grew. This hatred fueled his existence. This hatred kept him alive. He was no longer the man who brought his wife flowers, tucked his kids in bed after a piggyback ride, or grilled his famous barbecue ribs for his loved ones on hot Sunday afternoons.

One day, a superior officer came to him. He told Johnny that he

noticed a drastic change in his personality.

"I know how tough this is for you, Johnny," he said, "I'm worried about you."

"Well, life is a bit different over here. Of course I’ve changed. We’ve all changed!" Johnny blurted out.

"I just hate to see you become this way because of the fight. You

need to find a way to keep being the gentle, kind man that you are. Do you think there might be a better way of dealing with the stress?" he asked.

Johnny was in shock. He was doing all he could to cope with this awful circumstance. How do you make war a pleasant experience? How do you not let strife and atrocity change you? How do you not hate the ones who are trying to kill you everyday? How are you supposed to let your guard down in the middle of battle? Isn't the time to change when you get home with your family and the threat is gone? Johnny was so confused……….

In families fighting with RAD and other behavior disorders, we parents are the warriors who become hardened and changed in trying to protect our loved ones and those around us. We used to be kind, loving, and fun to be with. We had friends. We were friends to others. We did things together as a family, things like eating out, going to the movies, the lake, biking, hiking and more. We loved our kids and our kids loved us back.

For many different reasons, one or more troubled children entered our homes. War was declared and we were forced to serve and protect. As parents, we took in these children to love and nurture. However, the children saw us as the enemy and were combat ready. They were equipped with the most up-to-date arsenal. Our other children ran for cover as shrapnel pelted them from ambush attacks from their new siblings. We parents moved to the front lines to intervene and protect the innocent. No matter what the peace-seeking mission was, the enemy always managed to sabotage it. Our homes slowly became war-zones filled with violence. Land mines were anywhere and everywhere. When least expected, someone would unknowingly step on a land-mine. We would all freeze...... We recognized that almost silent but deadly clicking sound beneath our feet...... Out of necessity and with expert precision, we parents mastered the art of 'bomb squad technicians', limiting the destruction and casualties...... Bedrooms became foxholes of protection....... Possessions became objects for raiding and looting....... Movable objects became guided missiles fueled by bottled-up rage. Our homes took on the smell of a third world country's street, as the enemy eliminated their waste inappropriately. More and more drastic measures were taken to keep the enemy at bay. Unlike Johnny, whose family was safe back home, we parents battle with our loved ones all around us. Rather than support our war, our country despises what we are doing. We are treated like Vietnam veterans. So very few understand our war, or the sacrifices we make. Our comrades have been wounded, captured, or run off by the enemy. Like Rambo, we find ourselves alone...... enraged by injustice and the need to be free. Our mission is to rescue the prisoners of war..... destroy the power of the enemy...... and keep all the innocents safe from harm. So, we become hyper-vigilant. We do our duty on less and less sleep. We begin hating the enemy.

But, we are parents!..... and the enemy?!…….Our children?!……..We can't hate children!…

…….We must love children!……So, we love……….And when we love, the enemy explodes mortars of hate unexpectedly into our hearts. Bandaging our bloody wounds, we hide ourselves until we could regain strength. We must be smarter……We must not make mistakes……..We must end this war………We must kill or be killed……

But, they are children!……We must love the children! So, we love.... with a little bit of hate. We nurture….. with shields protecting our hearts. Every day is alike. There are no reinforcements. No peace treaties are honored. No supplies make it through to the front lines. All rescue missions are aborted, due to the political rhetoric that keeps Reactive Attachment Disorder and the like, our dirty little secrets.

One day, an ally approaches a warrior parent, a parent who had been fighting alone for years. He tells her that he understands her war; he understands her enemy. He wants to help in the fight. He is worried about her. He will bring in reinforcements. He will help her turn the enemy back into a child. She is shell-shocked. She is numb……She is used to fighting…….She must win…… The more he gets to know her, the more he worries about her. He spends more and more time focusing on her………..The enemy keeps attacking.........

"Why do you keep reacting to the children? Is it something from your past? Do you think you can become soft and kind again, even though they attack you? Can you fight this war without trying to protect your heart? Can you open your heart to them again?" he inquired.

Rambo-mom is shocked and confused. She is doing all she can to cope with her war-torn circumstances. How do you not let strife and atrocity change you? How do you not hate the one who is trying to kill you everyday? How do you love the child and hate the enemy? How do you keep your family safe with hugs and kisses, when door alarms and video cameras work so much better? Will you ever have friends again? Will your family ever feel the security of peace again? How do you let your guard down in the middle of a battle? She didn't want to be a warrior anymore................. but her child still wanted to be the enemy……She didn't want to fight anymore............. but no one would surrender……..How would it ever end?…..Could it ever end?………Who would promise safety for her family?

............Children have far too much power in this day and age. It is a very dangerous weapon for children who are deeply troubled and need the help and guidance of loving adults. Our society has gone overboard with child abuse allegations. Like with the Salem Witch Trials, there are many good people under attack and prosecution. Parents are helpless to a society that is driven by fear, looking to accuse and blame. There are so many people out in the world who have hurt, abused, abandoned and neglected the children we try to love. Most of those people never had to answer for what they did, nor have they suffered the hate of the children they’ve hurt. Those children want someone to pay for what was done to them. Most often, those who pay are the ones who are willing to love them, even if it means a life of war. Most often, we families fight it alone.

I dream of a day when RAD, and other behavior disorders, will be known, as commonly as Cancer, or ADHD. I dream of a day when helping people will not be all about high dollar cures. I dream of a day when people will quit judging, but instead, will seek to understand and support. I dream of a day when my home will be a place of peace. I dream of a day when my enemy-children will be able to say, "I love you Mom," without detonating a ticking bomb in my heart. I dream this dream for my comrades, as well.

2004

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