–by Janyne McConnaughey, PhD One day, well into my first year of therapy, I caught myself trying to manipulate my therapist. Not that I hadn’t been trying all along, but I hadn’t recognized that what I was doing looked distinctively like manipulation. Suddenly, I found the connection between that and my inability to ask for help. At issue was my need to schedule another appointment. The therapist had always taken this initiative (because I so
–by Hilary Jacobs Hendel, LCSW, originally published on the author’s blog, September 14, 2017 “The problem with verbal abuse is there is no evidence,” Marta shared. She came for help with a long-standing depression. “What do you mean lack of evidence?” I asked her. “When people are physically or sexually abused it’s concrete and real. But verbal abuse is amorphous. I feel like if I told someone I was verbally abused, they’d think I
–by Lorraine Fuller It’s a feeling special needs parents know all too well. My most recent experience happened on a cruise ship, on a vacation with extended family. One evening, I couldn’t sleep. My son had gone to a teen party and everyone else had gone to bed early or was off doing something else. I went walking and decided to get a slice of pizza – 24-hour pizza is one of the perks of
–by Laura Dennis, originally published on the author’s own blog, Les Pensées du chat noir [This is not the ATN post of the week, but rather an explanation of why it isn’t (yet) here. And after last week’s post on caregiver stress, I thought this could maybe be of help to some.] We all have so much we mean to do. I, for example, mean to put up a new post on the ATN blog every Tuesday
–by Donald Craig Peterson originally published on the author’s website, ADOPTING FAITH: A Father’s Unconditional Love, July 31, 2017 The serious look on the eye doctor’s face was obvious. Then she said, “Are you under a lot of stress at work?” Instantly I let out a nervous laugh. “At work – no. But home can be another story.” No doubt, parenting children with special needs isn’t for the meek – as I know from personal
–by Hilary Jacobs Hendel Originally published March 10, 2015 How can it be that a seemingly depressed person, one who shows clinical symptoms, doesn’t respond to antidepressants or psychotherapy? Perhaps because the root of his anguish is something else. Several years ago a patient named Brian* was referred to me. He had suffered for years from an intractable depression for which he had been hospitalized. He had been through cognitive behavioral therapy, psychoanalytic psychotherapy, supportive
–by Julie Beem I’ve been to a handful of post-adoption conferences this spring and summer. After working with ATN for over a decade, I have been excited by the number of workshops and speakers addressing early childhood trauma, and in some cases citing the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) Study. I remember all too well the many years when trauma and attachment challenges were not openly addressed at conferences attended by adoption professionals and adoptive parents.
–by Lorraine Fuller Back-to-school time involves mixed feelings for so many of us trauma moms. We might look forward to the respite it provides. I am a stay-at-home mom and while I love my kids, I enjoy the much-needed break at the end of a long summer. The routine my child thrives on is easier for me to keep up with during school. Plus being able to grocery shop without my son stealing is nice.
–by Janyne McConnaughey, PhD Every adult knows that there are triggers in life. We often know each other’s triggers, and in toxic relationships, we talk about how we push each other’s buttons. We know those buttons exist, but we often don’t remember how they got there. It is even harder for children, who are not yet developmentally capable of identifying the trigger. Most difficult of all, for children and adults alike, is that triggers and
–by Sara Borgstede This was originally posted on the author’s website, The Holy Mess – Balancing Faith, Family, and Fitness, on June 4, 2017. As we drive through the beautiful rolling hills of western New York, my husband reaches over to grasp my hand. I glance over and see a stream of tears run down his cheek as he navigates the car. My eyes are dry. I’ve cried so much over these days, I have no