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One evening I got after my 7-year-old granddaughter about something of which I highly disapproved. She went to her room crying. After a few minutes, I went in and sat on her bed. I asked her why exactly she was crying. She responded that she thought I didn’t love her. I put my arms around her and reassured her that no matter what, I would always love her. She wanted me to rub her back to make her feel better. While I massaged her back, she talked and sobbed. She said she couldn’t get bad thoughts out of her head, while she shook her hand next to her head. I started to put two fingers next to her lips to indicate I wanted her to listen carefully to me. She flinched as though I was going to hit her. When asked, she said no she didn’t think that, and then she started to talk while still sobbing. As I listened to her, I fought back my own tears. The horrors of her previous life (before coming to live with us 3 years ago) still tormented her. She remembered vivid details of anger and violence. She asked me several questions about the situation while she cried, and I did my best at answering them.
We talked about how there are other children who have experienced some of the same scary things and they didn’t get to go live with their grandparents. In shock, she asked, “You mean that happens to other children and they have to stay living like that? How awful.” She told me that back then she didn’t know that there were policemen that would keep her safe or that she had a guardian angel.
I told her that sometimes when I am sad, I think about things I like, things that make me happy, and sometimes I even write them down in my journal, including how happy I am that she lives with me. At first she couldn’t think of anything that she liked or that made her happy. The frightening thoughts were consuming her. I continued to massage her back while I offered suggestions of things I knew she liked and enjoyed. She decided she would start writing in her journal about all of the things that make her feel happy and read it whenever the “bad” thoughts would not go away.
The next day she talked with me about things that she likes and things that make her happy. She showed me what she had written in her journal. She was so proud of it. To name a few of her likes - she likes playing with her friend and her sister, she likes her pretty bedroom, watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang at home and going to the movies. She likes having birthdays, playing with her new 3 ft doll, wearing her pretty new dresses, and having water day at school (summertime).
The talk we had that night made quite an impression on her because, often now all on her own, she tells me about the things that are making her happy. She likes living with her Papa and Mom (that’s me), staying in hotels with a swimming pool when we get to go somewhere, and especially she likes having a guardian angel, and she loves her new skorts. Sometimes we even play a game taking turns telling each other what we like. The two smaller girls also like playing this game with us now. Sometimes they can even get a bit goofy telling about the most oddball things they like. I think they are competing at who can be the funniest.
Even though I cannot take away the frightening and horrible memories that still plague her, I can offer her a safe environment to live which provides ample opportunity to have positive experiences in life. As she grows into a young woman, it will be up to her what she chooses to focus on and what her grown life will eventually become. I can only hope, and live with faith, and have belief that what we are doing will make a big enough difference.
