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PTSD & FASD:
Coming to Terms with the Empty Nest
Dorthy Beckwith
I’m not really sure how to write about PTSD regarding myself. I do have flashbacks once in awhile at my job at Head Start…especially when I see sweet little faces that have the look of FASD, little ones who come with labels of ADHD, etc. And I cringe when I hear impatient tones in the voices of some staff about “difficult” children who I know are desperately struggling with sensory overload. Such remarks cause me relive the pain of struggling with the schools and know-it-all professionals with my affected children Christina and Tony. As we learned from the conference that Ann Waller and Dr. Andrews tried unsuccessfully to host in Idaho, there is just not much interest in FASD in this state. So, I try to be a little bright spot in the day of some of those little ones who just may be one of our kids, just as I appreciated soooo much those true professionals who were patient, understanding, and compassionate with my two when they were in school.
Our daughter, Christina, will be 23 in a few months. She was so bubbly and happy until her freshman year in high school. Back then, she was really gifted in music and ice skating. We had taken her to dozens of doctors, counselors and therapists. All of these professionals and I begged the school to provide an aide for her to keep her safe, but they refused. In an unguarded moment, some gang members trapped her in a vacant room. Nothing was the same for Christina after that. Even though she won her lawsuit, the money is of little consequence except it helps to pay the expenses in the care facility where she’s lived for the past eight years. After the physical trauma was superimposed on top of FASD, Christina lost all interest in music and ice skating.
My own PTSD triggers these days are from Tony, now a young adult who is so vulnerable to gang activity. I still have nightmares about him that wake me up - although they are more infrequent now for two reasons. First, he no longer wants to be a part of the gang he joined here, and second he decided to live in another state. He’s working part time at a discount appliance store and renting a couch from a friend who has his own apartment. It’s probably a real dive. But that isn’t the most important thing at this point. He’s safe, he’s living with friends and he’s not living with us. When Tony was living here, he had such an insatiable need for peer companionship that the illegal activities of his fellow gang members drew Tony into the criminal justice system and nearly drove us crazy. Happily, he has been holding-his-own in the community and has just now been accepted into Job Corps.
The amazing thing is that both Tony and Christina are both making progress toward finding their places in the world. Consequently my husband and I are relieved and can sleep through the night once in a while now that they are not under foot here at home 24/7. The future for Tony and Christina is uncertain, but we do our best to keep the faith. We know the journey is not planned by us, but by our Heavenly Father. And we have learned that life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.