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Florida, United States
Southern born, Southern reared. It's a quirky place and we are unique folk... These are my people and these are my stories.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Friday's Southern-style Faith

I am always amazed at how the number of readers of this blog spikes on Fridays. Those who have known me for a long time, those who knew our relationship and love for our daughter J., come to know "just what happened." Then there are those who hear about it, who are naturally curious how such a nightmare could have occurred. Not just with the illness, but with the State of Florida's mismanagement of the illness, our case, and our child. I hear "In this country? But this is America!" time and again. 


Then there are those who are professionals, or who suffer from the same illnesses, who come to read. To know more. Because the more we know of the stories, the more we learn ... and hopefully, the more likely we are to not repeat the mistakes. 


Another question I get is this: Why are you doing this? 


I do this because our family is not the only one. We are just one, but we are one with a member who writes and speaks publicly and who doesn't want to see this ever happen to anyone else again. To warn people, before they adopt or foster, of what they need to know FIRST. To encourage the State of Florida ... and all states ... to learn more about mental health issues and to get their noses out of the air and, by golly, start doing their jobs. To educate people about the mismanagement of organizations such as DCF and the community-based care programs across the country. To stop the outpouring of financial support until these people vow to get it right, instead of being hell-bent on proving themselves right, they don't care who gets hurt in the process.


I read every single comment. Last week, a professional gave such an amazing report, I asked her if I could use it for this week's post. So here it is. I encourage you to read every word. To know the truth. And,if you are from the state-side, if you are a DCF worker, or with a community-based care, etc., read carefully. This is not an angry parent speaking.This is one of you ... but one of you who decided to do more than slap the alphabet after their names. This is one of you who decided to know.




I would like to offer my professional opinion about this situation. I have worked with high-risk children for many years as a foster care social worker (SWIII) and in-home family therapist working with DSS, mental health centers, and the Methodist Home for Children in North Carolina for over 20 years before becoming a licensed marriage and family therapist in private practice. I've watched this landslide of bureaucratic mismanagement from afar and could so clearly see what was happening, and honestly, I am not surprised.


I have worked with many teens like J. through the years. Deeply emotionally wounded early in life, they are taken and placed in loving homes, only to viciously turn on the very same people who have attempted to love them and give them a home. Children like this have personality disorders, usually borderline personality disorder concurrent with physiological imbalances like bipolar disorder or schizophrenia. Their view of the world and their place in it is warped. One classic symptom of emerging Borderline PD is the sudden (and sometimes violent) turning on people that they claim to love. The truth is, these children don't know how to love. They only know how to pretend to love to get their very basic needs for safety met, a skill learned early in life to cope with their chaotic and painful childhoods. Some become so severe as to form Reactive Attachment Disorder, the inability to truly attach to anyone at all, even their own child. Paradoxically, it is when they get into a safe place that they begin to act out their very deep and frightening anger at the world. They misdirect that anger at the very people that made them safe in the first place! 


I know firsthand how easy it is to be manipulated by these children, who are often very bright and convincing. And, I'm not saying that they all are lying. Sadly, on rare occasions their stories are true.But when there is a clear diagnosis of mental illness, no evidence to substantiate wild accusations, threats of violence and sick behaviors and their cases are being managed by social workers who clearly are young and inexperienced and may have lost their objectivity, there is a recipe for disaster. Not only are good people devastated emotionally, financially, and socially, but the child is learning that manipulations, lies, and acting bizarre 1. gets a lot of attention 2. feeds their desperate need for power and control over others 3. and feeds the need for vengeance for wrongs done to them early in life. In other words, J. gets to do to the Everson's what was done to her, and if someone doesn't confront her with that, then she may one day do it to her own children as well.


I am deeply sad for this child and this family. They all have been deeply wronged. Although I believe it is safer for both J. and the Everson's to have J. removed from their home, to have them be denied parental rights and to treat them as the enemy here has been a miscarriage of justice and a prime example of social work at its worst.


I understand. Careers are at stake, jobs can be lost, and after all, social workers are all overworked, underpaid, and not trained to deal with sick children--at least not to the extent they should be. I deeply respect the unsung heroes of social work. The job is brutal at best. But it wasn't until I became a therapist that I really learned how much I didn't know when I was a social worker and how much the system has deteriorated in the last ten years. It’s scary to think how often this is happening and how many lives are being destroyed in the process. I hope someone has the courage to stand up and do the right thing.


Deborah B. Dunn,LMFT
www.deborahdunn.com


Thursday, July 26, 2012

Thursday's Talk About a Book

Today I'm going to navigate you to a couple of other websites. But, before I do that, I want to tell you something amazing.

Sometimes, when God places these book ideas in my head--these story lines--I just see a story. My life has always been like this. I see something, hear something, taste something, touch something, and even smell something ... and a story forms. Sometimes I get only a shred of the story. Sometimes the story goes on and on, forming details I couldn't come up with on my own in a hundred years of Sundays.

So, I know this is God, blessing me again with this marvelous gift.

When the story for Chasing Sunsets came to me, I was in Cedar Key, sitting on the bed, talking to my friend Janice Elsheimer, who sat on the nearby sofa. Outside our rented condo, the Gulf's water lapped against the sand of the beach. People walked to and fro. Gulls cawed. Fishermen hollered. And the late summer breeze moved the palm fronds.

I thought it was just a story. And then, on another trip, I thought it was a story about a father's love ...

...and then ...

http://seekerville.blogspot.com/2012/07/how-does-it-feel-to-be-fhlirca-finalist.html


And now for a cool announcement: Chasing Sunsets took first place at the RWA Faith, Hope & Love chapters IRCAs last night.

For more information: http://www.faithhopelove-rwa.org/irc_winners_2012.html

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Wednesday's Recipe of the Week

Special Spinach


Ingredients


6 tomatoes, cut in half
3/4 cup finely chopped onion
3/4 cup finely chopped parsley
6 cups chopped cooked spinach, drained
12 Tbs. bread crumbs
1/2 stick margarine or butter
Salt, pepper, and paprika


Directions


Preheat oven to 375.


Place tomatoes in shallow baking pan, cut side up. Mix onion, parsley, spinach, salt, pepper and apprika. Divide and spread evenly over tomatoes. Top with crumbs, toasted in margarine or butter. Bake 30 to 45 minutes.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Tuesday's Southern-style Tunes

Watched The Andy Griffith Show today while I did my treadmill punishment.

The Darlings were featured, which got me to thinking about my favorite Darlings song. This is mine. What's yours?


Monday, July 23, 2012

Monday's Musing on All Things Southern

Another round of "Who Am I?"

Enter to win a free book from my bookshelf. And believe me, I've got tons.


Who Am I?

I was born in Tylertown, Mississippi, but when I was four years old our family moved to "Nawlins."
The Problem We All Live With by Norman Rockwell
In 1960, when I was only six years old, my parents made a bold move that would forever ingrain me and my name in the history books as the first colored child to attend an integrated school.


Before "heading off to school one day," I had to take a test. Out of all those who did, only six were chosen, and out of those six, the honor fell upon my young shoulders. With the deed done, my parents became a little concerned--which would only be natural--but my mother felt it was the right thing to do. Not only for me and my education, but for the advancement of education to all African-American children.

Naturally a crowd of people were in front of the school that first day to protest, but, as Former US Deputy Marshal Charles Burks later stated, I "showed a lot of courage. She never cried. Didn't whimper. She just marched along like a little soldier, and we're all very proud of her."

Today I am a wife and mother. I have owned my own business, have been the subject of song and painting, and have received awards for this one great moment in our country's history.

Who am I?



Friday, July 20, 2012

Friday's Southern-Style Faith (Our Story Continues)

So what do you do when you've spent the entire night keeping vigil because your precious child, the one you'd give your life for, has become so psychotic, you fear that rather than die for her, you'll die by her? What do you do the following morning--so tired your muscles ache and your brain refuses to work--once the sun has risen again and you know life goes on?

As it turned out, J had an appointment late that morning with her therapist. I called ahead, told her what had happened. Neither of us were fully surprised. Four months previous, we'd hospitalized J for what we thought was a reaction to her ADHD meds. Just before that, she and I had gone away for a week, which would have been and should have been a lovely time together--but had turned into a disaster when she informed those around us that my husband and I had installed cameras in her bedroom and bathroom so we could watch her undress and shower. Of course none of that was true. After the week away--with the first four days being such fun and the last three being something akin to hell on earth--my husband and I took her to a therapy session where she explained, oh so casually, why she thought there were cameras and we, of course, explained otherwise. Everyone left happy. Then, two days later she stood in the middle of the street screaming she is going to kill herself. Totally broken down. My husband and I were helpless as officers handcuffed her and drove her away. Helpless watching her thrashing about in the back of the squad car. Just helpless.

The ADHD meds, they said. We'll ween her off. Make her better. And, after a week, she returned to us, pretty much her old self. So maybe they were right.

But there had been those previous problems in school. The year before, we'd gone from elementary to middle school--that cesspool of hormones and mean girl issues. J got in trouble one day for defending another girl from the attacks of a third. Then, she was thrown against the bathroom wall (warning: if you are in middle school, just learn to hold it) by a girl who was suspended for three days. There were other fights. She also struggled with her school work, but socially, she seemed to be doing well.

Then came the notices. Skipping class. Failing in class. Disrupting class. Fighting at lunch. I was getting emails from teachers nearly every day and phone calls from the school counselor just as often. I amped up my mothering role. I started having email sessions with the teachers on a weekly basis, letting J know that a good week would result in an award. A bad week ... well, there go your privileges.

By March, with a child failing and having been suspended too many times, I removed her from school (at her request) to homeschool her. In homeschooling, she did so well. She blossomed.

But, like I said ... then came August. And then...then came October when CPS (child protective services) showed up at my door. They had a report that we kept J. imprisoned in her room. That we had cameras in the bedroom and bath.

Here we go again.

I showed them our weekly calendar. She had a social event every Monday. Tuesday was ballet. Wednesday was Youth Group at church. Thursday was jazz. Nearly every Friday she was heading out to the farm where her best friends lived. She spent most weekends (I met her at church on Sunday) with them. After Sunday service, we'd go shopping. Or maybe to a matinee.

The officer talked to me at length. Talked to J. Smiled and said, "She's a normal kid."

But something smelled like a rat. And the rat had a name. S, I have called her. Her friend's mother. So I called S and confronted her. She swore she hadn't called ...but she was concerned because I wouldn't let J see her bio-dad. What? She had total freedom to see her bio-dad! She insisted she didn't want to.

Oh ... that's not what she told me. Maybe I misunderstood.


Maybe you should get your nose out of my business and rear your own kids.

Okay. I digress.

And so I went to the therapist and said, "I think we've got issues."

To which she said, "Yes, we do. J is beginning to create stories in her head that could easily land you in prison. I think it's time for a psychological. With the onset of hormones, we may be seeing the same illnesses her bio-parents suffer from."

All along I kept the GAL (Guardian ad Litem) supervisor undated. She's been so good to us in the 2.5 years of court hearings and I knew how much she loved J. How much J. loved her. She also knew how much we loved J and how much she loved us.

But love wasn't going to get us through this. Nor was prayer. You cannot pray hard enough or love deep enough and think that mental health issues and illnesses will just go away. Sometimes there is a purpose.

And right now ... it seemed that the purpose was to destroy our family.

Where mental illness left off ... DCF and CBC of Central Florida picked up. Departments designed to save families and children, but destroyers of them nonetheless. Departments without hearts, who only care for the power they hold, to use it for evil and not for good. Departments without ears ... and none are so deaf as those who refuse to listen.

Because then came January 11 ... and a final trip to the therapist after that long, long night. The last day I would see my little girl ... because of the idiocy of DCF and CBC of Central Florida. Because the state of Florida gives children--even those diagnosed with mental health issues--all the rights.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Thursday's Talk About a Book

Unconditional Book Cover
As you may know, if you've been reading my blog for any length of time, I was contracted to write the novelization of the movie Unconditional, which releases September 27, 2012. The contract was signed late last year and I got to work in early 2012, sending in a completed manuscript on March 1.

Never have I worked so hard in such a short period of time, nor have I ever felt so satisfied for my efforts. Not only because I learned what I am capable of doing, but because of the work itself.

Unconditional is based on the true story of Papa Joe Bradford, who I spoke with several times while writing, but only just met this past week. And what a thrill it was! Papa Joe has done amazing work with at-risk kids in the Nashville, TN area, which bonds him to my heart right away.

Patrick Bonner (B&H marketing
strategist) and Me with Firebird
Three things you should know:

Papa Joe & Me at ICRS
B&H book with Unconditional
trailer playing behind us
1.  The book (novelization) I wrote releases September 1.
2.  The movie releases September 21 (go see it!!!)
3.  The children's book, Firebird, which the story of the movie is built around, releases in October.

You do not want to miss any of this, so write it on your calendar.

I'm not saying this because of my work with the project. I'm saying this because it's true.

It's just so very very true.