The Toy Apocalypse

 This girl has taken me to a place I never thought I'd be. I'm now in danger of being covertly filmed and shamed on social media as the mean mom. 

Twice today I drove Jane to Goodwill with a bag of beloved toys and forced her to say good-bye to the toys and then drop them off. Twice. In one day. I never dreamed I'd do anything like this as a parent.

These actions seem desperate and short-sighted. They seem more cruel and damaging than a spanking. Yet, here we are. 

For about the past six months I've done as our therapist suggested. He says she is acting from a place of deep shame due to the neglect in her early years. He says she is drawn to the naughty behavior because she cannot see herself as a good person. He says she is an empty pit that needs to be incessantly loved and filled again and again and again. That she'll never be able to do the right thing until she feels full of love and worthy.  

I still kind of believe him. I mean, I don't disbelieve that she feels shame and needs endless love. 

But, then there's this quirk of her personality. Jane has none. She is a chameleon. She has no identity. She takes on the persona of anyone she's around, right down to copying their speech patterns. She has no opinion. If she and another child are both offered a candy and she chooses what she wants first, as soon as the other child chooses their she regrets her choice. 

She is also a black and white thinker incapable of nuance. There are only rules she follows in an almost autistic way. If I told her she had to wear a sunhat and sandals at the beginning of summer, she'd still be putting those on in winter. No concept that she should switch to winter clothes unless directly instructed.

So, what does this add up to? A very unsophisticated thinker who hears one thing about herself and then adopts it completely. So, when I began talking to her about the idea that she feels shame due to her birthmother's neglect, inadvertently, that became the whole story she told herself about herself. Nothing more. I do bad things because I feel bad. No hope for change. No striving to understand and do better. It was a dead end street in her mind. I am bad = I feel bad = I do bad. Full stop. 

For the past six months I feel like we've tried to be empathetic and so we've lowered and lowered and lowered our standards to try to meet her where she is and love her up and out of this deep hole she's in. Nope. She has just mirrored our lowered expectations by sinking lower. The lying has only gotten worse; not better. 

Her lying and defiance and willful rejection of a parental bond has deepened the more we've talked about it. It has become the only narrative. 

So, today I changed the narrative. I have now declared: "You are my daughter and I expect you to tell the truth." 

She can fight that all she wants (and she is!) but I have decided this is my line and I'm holding her to it. How? By hitting her in the absolutely worst possible place. Her Achilles heel is her stuff. She adores every toy, every tiny bead she found on the ground in a parking lot, every acorn or shell she's ever collected. She adores balls of lint she finds in her pocket. She loves stuff. She does not love people. 

With ample warning and repeated explanations and questioning to ensure comprehension, I explained the new plan. If she lies she loses a toy. Gone forever. 

Within 20 minutes of waking up this morning she'd told her first lie. Standing in front of me with pee-soaked shorts, I asked her if she'd peed her pants. She said no. (Note: she pees herself when angry with me; even giving in to go use the bathroom becomes something she's too defiant to do, even when I wasn't in the room and didn't prompt her to go.)

So, we loaded up two toys--she lied twice--and drove off to Goodwill. We got there and I explained it all carefully and slowly again. Made sure she made the connection. Made her explain to the toy she chose lying over keeping them. Made her say good-bye to them. Made her take the bag and put it in the tub. Made her think through how this felt and if it was worth it to lie. 

The rest of the day was normal. At 4:20 she came inside from playing and I saw she'd peed herself again. I took her into the bathroom and tried to make this move as slowly as possible to give her lots of think time. Told her to wait and answer slowly after she'd thought carefully. Reviewed how painful this morning was. Reviewed what would happen if she lied. Got her to repeat and articulate everything to be sure she understood. Then:

"Jane, are your pants peed?"

"No."

"Take them off." She takes them off and hands them to me. The shorts are wet. I give them to her to smell. She smells them. I tell her they smell like pee.

"Jane, when did you pee your shorts?"

"When I was outside."

"So, you just lied when you said you didn't pee them."

"Yes, but I only said it one time."

Revealing that she was fully aware that she was lying and, in fact, she was intentionally testing the system to see if one lie was enough to trigger the punishment. 

Yep, it was. We loaded up her most favorite toy she'd just gotten for her birthday and drove off to Goodwill and repeated the whole thing. I made her apologize to every toy and tell the toy she chose to lie rather than keep it and then say good-bye to it. So much sobbing. Snot and tears by the gallon. 

Did the lesson sink in?

Nope. At bedtime I'm talking through the whole day and reinforcing a few things: a) you are my daughter and I expect you to tell the truth, b) I love you and you will always live here, c) I understand you are angry that you lost toys today and you can make a different choice tomorrow.

I end by asking her: "Tomorrow, when I ask you something, are you going to lie or tell the truth?"

She looks away, thinks a long time, then whines, "Well, I don't want to lie." This is classic lying behavior. She has every intention of lying. In fact, she's planning how to do it. 

I call her on her bullshit answer and explain that I know she's planning to lie. Explain that I want her to make the decision to tell the truth. Get her to the point she's smiling, cheering, and yelling, "I AM going to tell the truth!" Give her tons of hugs and smiles and I'm cheering with her. Reinforce how good it feels to tell the truth. Lead her in listing all the privileges she'll get back when we can trust her again (it's a long list and she has each one ready to name). 

That's how we ended the day. In a positive, warm exchange with hugs and smiles and affirmations. Will it work? No. Tomorrow she will be compelled to lie again. I expect her room will be bare within a few weeks. I'm prepared to go there. She will probably get down to a few changes of clothes and basic bedding. She will probably lose the opportunity to go out on Halloween. We may give her a few cheap Christmas toys that we know we'll donate to Goodwill the next week. 

The first thing I learned about Jane, based on her birth family's behavior, was that stuff = love because people can't be trusted. Well, it's time to remove the crutch of stuff while simultaneously raising our expectations for behavior. She will no longer be allowed to love stuff and reject relationships. Or, at least, she will have no stuff while she rejects relationships. 

This is the new plan. God help me.