Chapter 7- Lord's prayer

David has gone through so much, he's lost hope. He's developed a "shell" that didn't allow people into his life. David called his mother "the bitch" more in this chapter, and even at points mention how he wished his mother would die.

This is a tough thing for CYC's or any profession to deal with. I would use an intervention skill that Dr. Perry used with Virginia and Laura. Virginia was not loved, cuddled, and experience what it means to be held as a child, which effected how she raised her daughter, Laura. This stunt her growth, and she was unable to develop a healthy relationship with her mother, or other people. Dr. Perry suggested moving with a woman named Mama P. Mama P. mentored Virginia in how to love Laura and help Laura to develop physically and mentally.

This would be an excellent way David can build attachment, and develop healthy relationships with other people. David was at an age when he was about to hit puberty, and his brain was like sponge. David's body was willing to grow, and willing to learn. If David gets to experience love and feel a belonged somewhere, his stress level in his brain will decrease, and his guard and hard exterior will soften.
Here is an excellent from by Dr. Dan Siegel talking about trauma and how we raise kids, and the connection and impact it has on the brain.

What happened to David? He got older. Married and had a son of his home. He lived a happier life.

The CYC profession does not always get to see the outcome from the work we do with children and youth, but know every moment we spend helping them is a small step forward to a healthier life. Keep an open mind. CYC's always use more than one interventions, and always have a toolkit of activities at their disposal.

Build a relationship. Listen to what they. Identify their needs and their strengths. Be positive.

Kevin Francis
3rd year Child and Youth Worker
Sheridan College

Chapter 6- While Father was Away

After the knife incident, dad spent less time at home and more at work. When he was home mom did have the stuff that she would do when he wasn't. I still felt safe when dad was around. On the nights when he was home he would help me with the dishes. He would wash and I would dry. We would talk softly so that mom and my brothers couldn't hear. He said that one day we would both be out of this madhouse. Mom started to insist that he was spending too much time with me and not enough with the others, dad didn't put up a fight he just stopped helping. Mom now had absolute control of the household.

Dad stopped staying at home on his days off and would only come home for a couple minutes and leave. In those minutes he would tell me he was making plans for us two to leave. Once he came in, knelt down and told me how sorry he was for everything. After he left and I finished my chores I ran downstairs and I cried into a pile of rags.

One time when dad left mom decided to starve me for ten days. By day six I was so weak I couldn't even lift my head. By the end of the evil game she told me I had two minutes to eat the left overs on the plate. Before the food hit my mouth she pulled the plate from under me. The next time she tried this I shoveled everything into my mouth so fast, she said I ate like a pig but I didn't care because I got the food.

The other favorite game that she liked to play was to lock me in the bathroom with a bucket of ammonia and Clorox. I would have to put the cleaning rag over my mouth, nose and eyes. I wet the rag in the toilet and put it back on. After a half hour she came and dumped the bucket. For about an hour after I was puking up blood.

By the end of the summer it seemed like mom got bored of finding ways to torture me so one day she sent me out to mow lawns. I couldn't meet the quota though and out of desperation I stole nine dollars out of a girl’s piggy bank to meet the quota but I got caught and beaten until I was black and blue. One lady another day while mowing lawns felt so bad sent me on my way with a lunch. As I ran home with the bag in hand mom caught me with the bag before I could get rid of it. Mom drove back to the house but the lady wasn’t there and so mom thought I had broken in and stolen it. When I got home the ten rounder left me on the floor.

She pulled me into the bathroom and there was no bucket so I assumed that this would be easy. She drew a bath but it was freezing cold. She took my clothes off and told me to lay in it with my face underwater. Hours passed and my skin became so wrinkly. She finally called me to get out around dinner time. I was told to throw my clothes on and then sit outside in the cold while the “family” ate dinner. This became routine.

The start of school gave me hope of some escape. By October my horrible life was in full swing. Food was scarce and I was easy to get picked on by bullies. Sometimes I would do my chores and then the bath and other times the bath would come first. With every passing day my will became weaker and I began to think that I would be moms slave forever. I gave up on praying and I lived my life one day at a time.

One day I was told to report to the nurse’s office. When she questioned me I gave her the answers that mom instructed me to do but as my trust grew I started to tell her more and more. The nurse had only become interested in me from reports from the substitute teacher earlier in the year.

By Christmas my spirit was drained and I wasn't looking forward to the Christmas vacation coming up. Mom made me skate up and down the block without a jacket. She had me skate for hours at a time.

By March mom was in labor, while mom was in the hospital dad let me play with my brother and I was fed. When dad went to the hospital Shirley would watch us and she was nice to us. A few days later mom came home with baby Kevin.

One day near the end of summer she made me sit on the end of the bed and she told me she was tired of the life she was living and she was sorry and she wanted to make up for lost time. I have the biggest smile on my face and I jumped into her arms. I asked it if was over and she said yes it is and to forget any of it had happened.

I was allowed to take a warm bath and I got to put on new clothes. After she took us bowling and on our way home she stopped and bought us toys. That night I ate at the table with the family, things were happening too fast. The next day a lady from social services came to the house. The lady was asking me if I was happy and if mom treated me right. She had asked me if mom beat me and I said no I mean only when I get punished when I’m a bad boy.

After the lady left mom began to beat me I knew I said something wrong. I had accepted my fate but I have never felt so alone. 

Chapter 5- The Accident

David spent last chapter fighting to stay alive by stealing food. Now he’s fighting to stay alive after being stabbed by his mother. This kid keeps fighting a fight no 10 year old should ever go through.

What I found interesting in the chapter was how David was wanting to forgive his mother, who’s been abusing him constantly, for stabbing him, but was upset at his father for not taking him to the hospital. That shows me that he loves his father a lot. More than his mother? Not sure, but it clear that someone David looked up to as a protective figure, and let him down by not taking him to the hospital, hurt him more than any stab to the stomach could have ever made. David probably felt let down, and more alone.

Early I had a theory that David’s mother had Munchausen’s by proxy, and I still stand by that. After reading this chapter, it seems mother may not seek medical attention from others, but when others seemed to seek medical attention from her, she feels a sense of purpose and act much differently when tending to David’s wounds, and fever. Once David started feeling better, mother lost that sense of purpose and had David take care of himself. Why she didn’t completely help David? Because if he gets sick again, she would feel purpose/needed again.

Two more chapters, but so much more to explore, and so much unanswered questions. Is dad suffering from depressing? What about the older brother? Where does he stands in all this? What does mother’s family history look like?

Kevin Francis

3rd year Child and Youth Worker

Sheridan College

Chapter 4- The Fight for Food

Things with mom were touch and go after the burn incident. School was starting soon and I got new clothes and a new lunch pail, but mom made me wear the same clothes week after week and by October they were falling apart and didn't hide the bruises anymore. By this point mom was "forgetting" to feed me dinner and breakfast was leftover cereal from my brothers. I was so hungry at this point I started to dream about food. The dreams were so real! I had a dream of a colossal burger with everything on it, but every time I went to eat it I could never taste it. It was at this point I started to steal food from school. I would steal it before school started, I would put my lunch box down and pretend to tie my shoe when really I was sneaking some twinkies and other goodies from other lunch pails. When the other kids started to notice their food missing they hated me. So I started to steal from grade one classes where I wasn't known. The principal knew it was me he called mom, which meant less good and more beatings. She never fed me on weekends and I wasn't never allowed to eat or be at the table with the family I had to stand at the bottom of the stairs waiting to clear the table and wash dishes. I also wasn't allowed to play with my brothers, watch tv, look or speak to anyone. I had become mom's slave. Dad would do his best to sneak me scraps he would try to get mom drunk thinking it would make it easier and she would lay off but it only got worse. He would try to make deals and bargains with her promising her whatever she wanted. He was my only hope. I could hear the midnight fights and no matter what it was they were fighting about it came back to me. The arguments became more frequent and dad started to pack overnight bags and head off to work. Mom would drag me out of bed in my pjs and slap me. One plan of mine was to lie on the floor like I didn't have strength to get back up but it didn’t last long. She blamed me for the problems between her and dad.

By the second grade mom was pregnant again with baby number four. My second grade teacher Miss Moss took a special interest in me and was curious about my clothes, my sleepiness and my bruises. I told her what mom coached me on saying but she wasn't believing it and told the principal. Mom was having a meeting the next day with the principal to prove him wrong that there wasn't any child abuse. When the meeting was done i was missing a tooth and my nose had bled twice. When she told me what she told the principal and how she was boasting I felt so empty.

That summer we went to Russian river and I was getting along better with mom the magic was gone. While there I got in trouble for making too much nose outside and I wasn't allowed back out. When everyone left the house mom smeared one of the baby’s diapers all over my face. Then she knelt down beside me and told me to eat it. Thankfully I managed to delay long enough that I didn't eat it, it was just smeared all over my face again. That was the last time we were at Russian river.

September came and I was wearing the same clothes as last year, I was a disgrace. I at least got lunch- two peanut butter sandwiches and some carrot sticks. I ran to school every day. Food was scarce and dad tried but failed most of the time. If I was going to survive I was going to have to rely on myself. I devised a plan to sneak away at lunch and run to the store and steal cookies or whatever I could. It took weeks for my plan to become solid. I counted my steps and planned my amount of time now I just needed courage. I finally got the courage and ran to the store. I grabbed a box of gram crackers. I had hid the crackers in the garage of the washroom. Excused myself from class and ran to the restroom to eat but the janitor had emptied the garbage’s.

A couple days later I was transferred to the school across the street. This allowed me to steal from my classmates again and was running to the store once a week to steal food. I finally got caught and mom was beyond mad. Mom would scrap the food leftovers from dinner into the garbage so when I was done my dishes I would take the garbage out and dig in the bag for anything good. Mom caught me in the act and that ended that plan. I waited a couple weeks but then started to eat the garbage again. I ate some pork but after was in a lot of pain. Mom told me that she had let it sit in the fridge for two weeks to spoil before it got thrown out, I had diarrhea for a week. Mom began to sprinkle ammonia in the garbage to stop me from eating it. I was stealing frozen dinners from the cafeteria and I was so proud that I was able to feed myself. But when I go home mom slugged in so hard I fell in pain. She pushed my head into the toilet and made me stick my fingers down my throat and throw up what I had ate. She said that this wasn’t over, she went and grabbed a bowl and made me scoop out the chunks of hot dog and tater tots from the toilet. Dad came home and he and mom started to argue about how “the boy” was still stealing food. After dad lost to her I knew I was going to have to eat the chunks of puked up hot dog, I was trying as hard as I could to swallow without tasting the food. Mom was snarling to eat it, tears rolling down my face I tilted my head back to force the remains down my throat. I did everything I could to keep it down. I hated mom so much but I hated father more. He use to help me and he just stood there while his son ate something most people wouldn’t feed their dogs.  That night I was made to sleep on the floor under the table with some newspapers as blankets.

I slept there under the table for months, but soon lost that privilege and was forced to sleep downstairs in the garage. I tried everything to stay warm but nothing worked and no one could help me so I prayed. I prayed that I could stay strong both in body and soul!!

It was during one of my fantasies that I came up with an idea to beg for food on my way to school. My plan worked for weeks, I would ask the ladies if they had seen a lunch box near their house, and I would use a fake name until one week I came to a ladies house who knew my mom. I knew that before I had even reached school she would have called my mom, I prayed that she didn’t call mom. When I got home after school I went and put on my work clothes and started to do moms dishes, she came into the kitchen and stood behind me saying we’ll see how fast you really are. When I was done the dishes she waited in the bathroom while I scrubbed. I was waiting for her to kick me or something but she didn’t. during dinner I stood downstairs exhausted from moving so fast. She finally called me upstairs to start my evening chores and she told me that only the speed of light can save me. When I was done I went back downstairs and fell asleep while leaning against the wall. Hours later she had called me upstairs, she had drained me physically and emotionally I don’t know what she possibly had planned I wished she would just beat me and get it over with, she was sitting in the dark kitchen, I had a strange feeling that she wasn’t going to beat me but I didn’t know what to expect. She finally knelt down and grabbed a bottle of ammonia and a spoon, I was thinking that if this was it than it was easy! I told myself she could bring it on. After she rammed it into my throat I couldn’t breathe, my throat seized, I fell to the floor. mother slapped me on my back making me burp and I was able to allow big breaths of air in.

The next night was a repeat performance but this time dad was watching.

While cleaning the mirror I looked at the layers of skin that were burnt away, she gave me ammonia some more times and some Clorox but her favorite was to pour dish soap in my mouth and send me down stairs. I started to run to the faucet and fill my stomach with water which was a bad idea cause soon after came the diarrhea. I called mom to let me use the toilet but she didn’t let me so I stood there was watery matter fell through my pants.

I felt so degraded I couldn’t stop crying,

 I had lost all self-respect for myself. I attempted to gather the last of my dignity and waddled over to the sink and grabbed a bucket and sat on it to relieve myself. The garage door opened and there was father looking at his son, mooning him as he squatted over a bucket with diarrhea.

I felt lower than a dog.

 

Caitlyn Hare

3rd year Child and Youth Worker

Sheridan College