(no subject)
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on.
It's not until the morning after that you feel the full effect of days like that. When you wake up in the morning heavy and solid, wanting to cry and scream at the same time, needing desparately to release the weight of the day before. Last night, when I return to my residence after working in the oldest girls residence for 3 hours, Eric takes one look at me and says, "You're so pissed." I don't say a thing back at him but sit silently on the couch, focusing my eyes on the floor. The other three staff exchange glances. Eric laughs, his face slightly red with shame because he was supposed to work there instead of Janette and I, and says "Kathleen, I've never seen you like this before. You are so pissed." I nod this time, and say without affect, "Eric, you should have went. Working in that house honestly makes a person want to kill themselves." They laugh knowingly, remembering their own stories of crisis in that house. Amanda recounts the time that JR flipped out at her and threatened to kill her. "I keyed the radio when she screamed that", laughs Amanda. "So everyone would know who was threatening me." I shake my head, fake smiling, "Oh yes, JR, well that's who I called for assitance for tonight, as I am chasing her screaming and cursing around the house..."
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on, and hold on.
Because JR is 15 and belongs to no-one. And after a failed attempt to talk to her former foster mother and a former resident of the house, she decides to become aggressive with her feelings of abandonment, and decides to scream -hysterically- at the top of her lungs, while slamming objects into the walls that 'NOBODY!! *slams basketball* FUCKING!! *slams chair* CARES!! *slams leg* ABOUT!! ME!!' *stands still, her arms balled in fists staring me down* I grab the radio at my side and call for assitance, praying to God that someone will come immediately, because this girl is clearly upset, is clearly bigger than me and clearly has a very long and extensive history of aggression. After I call, the other staff in the house quickly rounds the corner on the other side of her. JR runs up centimeters away from her face and screams again, 'NOBODY FUCKING CARES ABOUT ME!! I FUCKING HATE THIS PLACE!!' Tracy gets back in her face and says, look at me, 'JR, look at me, I care about you. I. Care. About. You.' JR drops her affect, takes a deep breath and spits out 'Fuck you', calmly with her eyes squinted and grabs for Tracy's radio on her side attempting to scream into it. Tracy grabs it back and next thing I know she's grabbing for mine and I am surprised by the force to which my instincts emerge and I grab that radio back immediately back from her. 'FUCK!!! ALL!!! OF!!! YOU!!!' she screams with her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth completely open, in a voice that rises and cracks from the depths of her. At that moment, more staff arrive out of breath in the front door and the situation is handled with her swinging at them and them taking her to the ground for a very loud and very violent restraint. I shut the door into the living room where the rest of the girls are and ask C to turn up the television to over-ride the screaming. I notice that I am shaking, but I don't feel it.
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
The room that I am in alone with the six other girls, contains L, the girl who attempted to stab another peer with seven butter knives just a few hours eariler and D, the girl who has been hospitalized at least three times in the past month for repeatedly assaulting staff. I calm down D, who will be diagnosed with schitzophrenia in two months when she turns 18 , by rubbing her back and brushing her hair out, telling her that I am really proud of her for staying calm. I trust D even less than I trust JR, because she flips from calm to hysterical in less than half of a second. I do not in any way like the fact that I am the only staff in the room with these girls but try not to focus on the potential danger of the moment, but the momentary "calm" instead.
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
For the rest of the night we hang inches away from having the whole house fall apart again. We are all soaking in gasoline waiting for the one small spark to set us aflame. She wants to agitate her by stealing her socks and her wants to agititate she by keeping the lights on and this one is out of area and that one is crying and this one is threatening to flip out if she doesn't get into a time out room now! and that one is threatening to flip out if she doesn't find her Notre Dame keychain. And it is 9:30 and lights are supposed to be out, but we are very obviously not ready for bedtime. I go through the motions of doing my best to keep the matches out of their hands, silence the sparks out of their mouths, but there are forces greater than me that live in the walls of this house, under the skin of these girls.
Keep you hand to the plow and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
It is hard to put words to match experiences in this job. I almost want to advocate for a extension to the English language that fully illustrates what I mean by the word screaming, by the word violent, by the words, chaos, crisis, out-of-control. There is something in these children that switches over when they become escalated. Almost like a cartoon, you see their eyes roll back in their heads and then you see these green, drooling, beady eyed monsters emerge out of them ready to destroy anything that is in their way. We are forced to calm something that has surpassed humanity, something that is super-human, something that has bathed and fermented in the waters of abandonment, betrayal, loss, abuse and now is one enormous reaction against all the pain that they have ever experienced in their entire lives.
Keep you hand to the plow and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
I vascilate between my view on Satan's role in these children. Someone once said to me, abused children are the most vulnerable of God's creatures..., why wouldn't Satan choose to prey on them? I agree with his statement and can tell you that I have never felt spiritual warfare stronger in my life that when I have been around emotionally disturbed children. It is as if something in the air changes, the pressure first becomes thick and weighted, and then there is this suction and this void almost, that takes over. I cannot put my finger on it exactly, I can only sense it with my spirit, but there is something that is not of God in this place, there is something in the eyes of these children that is twisted and dark, trapped and unforgiving. We are in the middle of something, we are in the middle of a very long and violent war, I feel it, I feel God and the absence of God. We must be aware of this battle. We must continue to fight with the Holy Spirit. We must continue to look to God for our strength and keep our hands to the plow and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
It's not until the morning after that you feel the full effect of days like that. When you wake up in the morning heavy and solid, wanting to cry and scream at the same time, needing desparately to release the weight of the day before. Last night, when I return to my residence after working in the oldest girls residence for 3 hours, Eric takes one look at me and says, "You're so pissed." I don't say a thing back at him but sit silently on the couch, focusing my eyes on the floor. The other three staff exchange glances. Eric laughs, his face slightly red with shame because he was supposed to work there instead of Janette and I, and says "Kathleen, I've never seen you like this before. You are so pissed." I nod this time, and say without affect, "Eric, you should have went. Working in that house honestly makes a person want to kill themselves." They laugh knowingly, remembering their own stories of crisis in that house. Amanda recounts the time that JR flipped out at her and threatened to kill her. "I keyed the radio when she screamed that", laughs Amanda. "So everyone would know who was threatening me." I shake my head, fake smiling, "Oh yes, JR, well that's who I called for assitance for tonight, as I am chasing her screaming and cursing around the house..."
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on, and hold on.
Because JR is 15 and belongs to no-one. And after a failed attempt to talk to her former foster mother and a former resident of the house, she decides to become aggressive with her feelings of abandonment, and decides to scream -hysterically- at the top of her lungs, while slamming objects into the walls that 'NOBODY!! *slams basketball* FUCKING!! *slams chair* CARES!! *slams leg* ABOUT!! ME!!' *stands still, her arms balled in fists staring me down* I grab the radio at my side and call for assitance, praying to God that someone will come immediately, because this girl is clearly upset, is clearly bigger than me and clearly has a very long and extensive history of aggression. After I call, the other staff in the house quickly rounds the corner on the other side of her. JR runs up centimeters away from her face and screams again, 'NOBODY FUCKING CARES ABOUT ME!! I FUCKING HATE THIS PLACE!!' Tracy gets back in her face and says, look at me, 'JR, look at me, I care about you. I. Care. About. You.' JR drops her affect, takes a deep breath and spits out 'Fuck you', calmly with her eyes squinted and grabs for Tracy's radio on her side attempting to scream into it. Tracy grabs it back and next thing I know she's grabbing for mine and I am surprised by the force to which my instincts emerge and I grab that radio back immediately back from her. 'FUCK!!! ALL!!! OF!!! YOU!!!' she screams with her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth completely open, in a voice that rises and cracks from the depths of her. At that moment, more staff arrive out of breath in the front door and the situation is handled with her swinging at them and them taking her to the ground for a very loud and very violent restraint. I shut the door into the living room where the rest of the girls are and ask C to turn up the television to over-ride the screaming. I notice that I am shaking, but I don't feel it.
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
The room that I am in alone with the six other girls, contains L, the girl who attempted to stab another peer with seven butter knives just a few hours eariler and D, the girl who has been hospitalized at least three times in the past month for repeatedly assaulting staff. I calm down D, who will be diagnosed with schitzophrenia in two months when she turns 18 , by rubbing her back and brushing her hair out, telling her that I am really proud of her for staying calm. I trust D even less than I trust JR, because she flips from calm to hysterical in less than half of a second. I do not in any way like the fact that I am the only staff in the room with these girls but try not to focus on the potential danger of the moment, but the momentary "calm" instead.
Keep your hand to the plow, and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
For the rest of the night we hang inches away from having the whole house fall apart again. We are all soaking in gasoline waiting for the one small spark to set us aflame. She wants to agitate her by stealing her socks and her wants to agititate she by keeping the lights on and this one is out of area and that one is crying and this one is threatening to flip out if she doesn't get into a time out room now! and that one is threatening to flip out if she doesn't find her Notre Dame keychain. And it is 9:30 and lights are supposed to be out, but we are very obviously not ready for bedtime. I go through the motions of doing my best to keep the matches out of their hands, silence the sparks out of their mouths, but there are forces greater than me that live in the walls of this house, under the skin of these girls.
Keep you hand to the plow and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
It is hard to put words to match experiences in this job. I almost want to advocate for a extension to the English language that fully illustrates what I mean by the word screaming, by the word violent, by the words, chaos, crisis, out-of-control. There is something in these children that switches over when they become escalated. Almost like a cartoon, you see their eyes roll back in their heads and then you see these green, drooling, beady eyed monsters emerge out of them ready to destroy anything that is in their way. We are forced to calm something that has surpassed humanity, something that is super-human, something that has bathed and fermented in the waters of abandonment, betrayal, loss, abuse and now is one enormous reaction against all the pain that they have ever experienced in their entire lives.
Keep you hand to the plow and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.
I vascilate between my view on Satan's role in these children. Someone once said to me, abused children are the most vulnerable of God's creatures..., why wouldn't Satan choose to prey on them? I agree with his statement and can tell you that I have never felt spiritual warfare stronger in my life that when I have been around emotionally disturbed children. It is as if something in the air changes, the pressure first becomes thick and weighted, and then there is this suction and this void almost, that takes over. I cannot put my finger on it exactly, I can only sense it with my spirit, but there is something that is not of God in this place, there is something in the eyes of these children that is twisted and dark, trapped and unforgiving. We are in the middle of something, we are in the middle of a very long and violent war, I feel it, I feel God and the absence of God. We must be aware of this battle. We must continue to fight with the Holy Spirit. We must continue to look to God for our strength and keep our hands to the plow and hold on, and hold on, and hold on.