By      A. Hosack,  P. Berman, & K. Hecht 

 

Oh No! I forgot the dog!! 

Claire had fallen asleep after writing in her diary. She woke up two hours later, suddenly with a vision of a small dog in the mud room all alone. Claire ran out of her room raced down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen. She quickly opened the cabinet looking for the right size bowl, grab one and filled it with water and rushed into the mudroom. The slam of the kitchen door grabbed everyone else’s attention.  

The little dog was laying down on the floor listless. She put the water next to its nose. It still didn’t get up. She picked the dog up and began to stroke it, at first, she got no response. Finally, it looked up at her, she held the bowl underneath its muzzle and it slowly began to lick up the water. It showed no response as first Mr., Mrs., and finally Davy rushed into the mudroom to find out what was going on. 

“Mommy brought a dog home!” Davy said barely breathing-he was afraid if he breathed too loud Mrs. Carson would make the dog go away. “I found it as I was walking home,” Claire said slowly afraid to make too much noise and disrupt the dog from drinking. “It was in a neglected yard and I picked it up and walked up to the nearest house and knocked on the door. The owner told me that the family that owned the dog had moved away and left the dog behind,” Claire looked at the Carsons’ and said, “he looked neglected and hungry like I often felt when I was growing up. I couldn’t just leave him there to starve. I don’t mean to keep him just to find out from you what to do.” 

What can I give a starving dog? Its stomach needs something on the gentle side. Hum. 

“That dog needs something to eat,” Mrs. Carson said looking hard at Claire before going into the house to look for something.  There was nothing in the kitchen for animals- taking care of Claire and Davy was hard enough. She didn’t want to keep this dog, but she wasn’t going to ignore a starving animal either. She picked up a box of Cheerios and stared at the ingredients. 

Mrs. Carson returned to the mud room with another bowl filled with dry Cheerios. “I wasn’t sure what would be the best thing to try,” she said, “but I don’t think this will be too hard for the dog to digest.” The little dog showed no interest in the bowl. It was cringing against Claire. “I think the dog is scared of all the new people who are around. I had to stroke it for a while before it would even lap the water.” 

I want this dog to like me. What should I do? 

“Can I help the dog eat mommy?” Davy asked. “Why don’t you put a few pieces of cereal in your hand and just hold your hand quietly near his nose.” Davy filled his hand with cereal and shoved his hand in the dog’s muzzle. The dog whined and pushed itself closer into Claire’s body. “it’s a very scared dog Davy, try being even gentler. Don’t actually touch the dog, just let its little nose smell the goodies in the palm of your hand,” Claire whispered. 

Davy tried again. He had a tight fist around his Cheerios. He opened his fingers slowly and reached close to but not touching the dog’s nose. The dog stared at the hand for a minute and then sniffed. A pink tongue darted out and grabbed the Cheerios out of Davy’s hand. Davy pulled his hand back quickly against his own body saying, “That felt tickly.” Davy looked at the palm of his hand and then smiled happily as he noticed the dog was chewing. “I fed him; did you see that Mrs. Carson I fed the dog Cheerios.”  

“You are being very gentle and careful Davy,” Mr. Carson said, “this is the way you need to be around scared animals.” “Why would the little dog be scared of us?” Davy asked, “We wouldn’t hurt it?” Claire looked down in her lap and then up at Davy and said, “This little dog was left behind by the people who were supposed to care for it.” “Why would they do that mommy?” “I don’t know my Davy. (1-minute silence) The dog has no reason to think we will be good to it.” 

The little dog has no reason to trust me. But, it is snuggling so close to me. It seems to feel safe with…me? 

The little dog was so skinny that Claire could feel its heart beating against her stomach. Whenever Davy or the Carsons got close, it cringed against her. Could she have become important to this little dog?  

Its asleep! It fell asleep in my arms… 

Claire gently put the dog down on the floor and stood up. She stood staring at it. Mrs. Carson noticed the peaceful look on Claire’s face.  

I don’t want a dog…but look at Claire’s face. Would an animal help her? 

Mrs. Carson is right. It will take a lot of work to take care of a dog. But, dogs have been found to help many people with a variety of psychological and physical problems. Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), people can bring “service animals” with them into public places where normally animals aren’t allowed. A service animal has received extensive training to help a person manage their psychological or physical problems. They are highly trained animals. On the other hand, a new movement is trying to make it acceptable to bring animals, that may not have received training, but bring comfort to their owners. Like this little dog is bringing to Claire.  

What do you think about allowing “comfort support animals” into public places? What are the benefits? Are there any negatives to allowing this? 

To read more about how animals can help others, as well as how the term “comfort support animal” is being abused consider reading the following article. https://www.apa.org/monitor/2016/09/pet-aid 

 

 By     K. Hecht, A. Hosack, & P. Berman 

Home. I’ve made it home. My Davy is waiting for me. What will everyone think about the dog? 

Claire left the little dog in the mudroom outside of the kitchen and then came in the kitchen door. Mrs. Carson turned to look at her, startled that she was coming in the side door instead of the front door and an hour late. Dinner had been delayed for her arrival and Davy had asked Mr. and Mrs. Carson, about 20 times where she was and why she was late. 

I worry so much about her. She has come so far but still…she is so fragile. 

Mrs. Carson had been acting very calm and collected for Davy on the outside; on the in-side she was very worried because Claire usually called if she had to stay late at work. She just kept supervising Davy as he did his work from school and did her best to help keep him occupied doing useful things in the kitchen as he waited for his mommy to arrive. As Claire walked in, Mrs. Carson noticed how pale and exhausted she looked; what was that dirty patch in the middle of her dress? What was going on? She knew better than to start with questions. First, she went over and hugged Claire and stroked her hair. After a few minutes of using her own body heat to drive the coldness out of Claire’s she said, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

Claire looked at Mrs. Carson while still desperately clinging to her as if the hug itself could keep her from being a waste of space. “Claire, Mrs. Carson said insistently. “Holding it in doesn’t work, you know that. What is it?” “A mother today tried to get me fired,” said Claire breaking into tears and sobbing as a startled Mrs. Carson kept stroking her hair. 

Davy had sharp ears. Hearing his mother crying he ran into the room like a whirlwind. “Mommy what’s wrong?” Mrs. Carson gave him a careful look before saying gently, “Davy, this is a grown- up problem, if you want to help, give your mommy a hug and then go spend more time with Mr. Carson while I help your mommy.” Davy added his small hug to Mrs. Carson’s, feeling bad that his mommy hadn’t even said hello to him when he had been waiting so long for her to come home.  But he understood the words “it’s a grown-up problem” and knew he was supposed to do what he was told. In his heart, Davy was glad that Mrs. Carson was handling the problem because it was always so scary when his big strong mommy cried. 

Once Davy was out of the room, Mrs. Carson whispered in Claire’s ear, “let’s sit down at the table and you tell me more about what happened.” Claire described how she had done everything that usually worked in helping small children calm down and have their teeth examined. But today it hadn’t worked at all. A little boy had just started screaming that she was hurting him, and she didn’t understand why. The mother had rushed in and blamed her for everything. She had yelled at Claire for hurting her son and then told the Dentist to fire her.  

My poor Claire!  She has done such great things at work, but it just takes one bad to trigger such painful memories for her. 

Mrs. Carson reaches across the table to take Claire’s hand. She holds it in a strong comforting grasp while Claire cries (two- minute silence). “You would never have intentionally hurt this child. Maybe he is one of those people with extremely sensitive teeth. (1-minute silence) What do you think might have happened?” 

He could have sensitive teeth, but it would still be all my fault. I can’t do anything right! 

Claire felt Mrs. Carson’s warm hand squeeze hers. She looked up into her foster mother’s eyes- to see the genuine love there. Claire started thinking again. (1-minute silence) “If his teeth were that sensitive, I think he would have started complaining right away. Instead, he seemed to get upset when I was brushing the left lower teeth; he might have had a severe cavity that hurt when I brushed it. This was his first time to the dentist even though he should’ve been coming for several years. (1-minute silence, thinking about when she tried to get Davy to do something he didn’t want to do.) He might not have been hurt at all.  The receptionist warned me that his mom literally dragged him into the office; he was complaining that he did not want to see a dentist.” 

Mrs. Carson looked at Claire kindly, “So, you might have hurt him because you made a mistake. Or, maybe anyone touching his tooth would have hurt him. Or, maybe nothing was really wrong and that mother over-reacted,” Mrs. Carson said. Claire suddenly turned bright red and looked guilty. “I am sorry that I’m wasting your time with this Mrs. Carson, you must be very hungry. I know its past dinner time. I did everything wrong when I left work. First, I walked past the bus stop. Then, I forgot to get off the bus (Claire started weeping again). “You have had a hard day,” Mrs. Carson said, “I can take care of the family for a while, what would help you?” 

“I need to keep thinking about that little boy. If I write all the details I remember, down in my diary, I think it will help me think through what I did right and what might have been mistakes. This has helped me before. Dr. Berman says I tend to do this tunnel vision thing where I focus too much on one small thing I did rather than remembering everything I did. If I look at the day more completely, I may understand better what happened and why the dentist didn’t fire me.”  

“Do you want to do that now or after dinner?” Mrs. Carson asked. “Please have dinner without me. I have worried so much my stomach just hurts. I just need to be in my room alone to work this out and calm down,” Claire said. “Go ahead dear, I will make sure to have a plate of dinner ready for you if you get hungry later.” Claire stood up left the room.” 

Mrs. Carson just sat at the table for a moment; she needed to get dinner out of the stove and onto the dining room table, but she felt too exhausted to move. Her day had been very pleasant until talking to Claire. Listening to all the misery pouring out of Claire’s mouth, had left her feeling completely stressed out herself. What should she do to help herself she wondered?  

What do I want? I want the world to give my Claire the kindness she deserves; she tries so hard! 

Mrs. Carson noticed her copy of the local paper. Her husband had written an editorial a few months ago. A few members of their church had actually read it. She didn’t know if anyone would read anything, she wrote but she decided it was her turn to put the family name on an editorial. She felt her energy returning as she imagined the mother who had yelled at Claire, reading her editorial and regretting what she had done.  

Mrs. Carson sat down at the kitchen table and wrote her first letter to the editor. Maybe it would be published, maybe not. Maybe no one would read it and she would never write another one. But, maybe it could make a difference. As she thought about taking an active step to help her Claire, she felt her stress level drain down to nothing; maybe, she could make a difference. Her letter is below: 

Dear Readers, 

We all know what it is like to work hard and have our hard work go unnoticed. We also know what it is like to work hard and have this work not only unappreciated but also degraded. This happened to my daughter today. She is at her first job after graduating from school. She worked very hard today trying to make a small child feel safe while having his teeth worked on at the dentist. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and the child was very unhappy. The mother of the child didn’t ask any questions, she just yelled at my daughter who already felt bad that she had not helped the child; she now feels worthless because this mother tried to get her fired. 

Did the mother need to yell? Did this help her child’s teeth not hurt? Was trying to get my daughter fired teaching the child a lesson he needed to know?   

We can all play a role in improving the public’s welfare by being slower to yell and faster to show appreciation for the hard work of others; even if the work doesn’t bring the results we wanted. 

Sincerely yours, 

Mrs. E. Carson 

Could you ever imagine yourself writing a letter like this? 

 

By    P. Berman, K. Hecht & A. Hosack 

I deserve this. I am so worthless. All I had to do was get off the bus. I couldn’t even do that right. 

Claire didn’t ask the bus driver for help. She didn’t think she deserved help from anyone. She had made this mistake. She would have to fix it herself. Awash in thoughts that she was always wrong, she was always stupid, and she was always a waste of space, she kept moving her feet in what she thought was the right direction. Claire had learned so much from the Carsons and from school. But, none of this mattered now. Her achievements were drowning in her memories of past pain. 

As she walked down the street, the sun finished setting and the few people still outside, didn’t notice the tears slowly pouring down Claire’s face. If she had been on time, there would have been a bustle of people rushing home for dinner. Everyone seemed to have gotten home but her; of course, she was the only one who couldn’t remember a simple thing like to get off the bus at her stop. She had managed to walk about a mile. Surely, she could get home in twenty more minutes…she hoped. 

What was that? Am I hearing things? 

She suddenly stopped moving and tried to focus her attention on the sounds on the street. There it was again! Where was it coming from- it was so soft and sounded so sad. It was gone. Was she imagining it? Did it matter? Did anything she did matter? Was it just a little louder over in this direction? Claire knelt right at the corner of a badly kept yard. The house on it looked neglected too. There it was- the maker of the sounds. A small undernourished dog looked up at Claire. She put out her hand carefully and didn’t move. Slowly the dog came out of the grass. 

It came up to Claire and sniffed her hand. She gently rubbed his head with her other hand, and it licked her palm; it tickled.  

Davy would love this! Why is this cute little dog so skinny? Where does it belong? 

Claire picked up the dog and continued to stroke it gently. She looked around and went up to the nearest house and knocked tentatively on the door. She was afraid but this little dog needed food. It had probably gotten lost.  A man came to the door and asked her politely what she wanted. She indicated she found this dog in the abandoned lot next to his house. He said it had belonged to the prior owners of the house next door who had disappeared suddenly with all their belongings about two weeks ago. 

Was it an accident that the dog was left behind? Did they decide it was a waste of space like me? 

Claire thanked the man for his help and continued walking towards home, holding the little dog close to her and stroking its head. She didn’t know what would happen to the dog, but she was sure Mr. Carson would know what to do. Davy would get a chance to pet this dog and have its little tongue tickle his hand. Claire was walking very slowly because she was so tired, but she had to keep moving- the dog needed food.  She’d never had a pet growing up. She had been taught that animals as pets were a waste of time and food.  

Stopping for a moment to take a break, Claire looked down on this little dog, now fast asleep. It would probably take a lot of money to feed this dog and get it back up to its proper weight. It clearly didn’t expect much from life, look how quickly it had accepted her. For a moment she imagined keeping the dog. She could see Davy chasing it around the back woods- laughing. What a stupid idea. She could barely care for Davy. She couldn’t add a dog to her list of responsibilities.  It wouldn’t be fair to ask the Carson’s to look after it while she was at work. They were already helping her so much with Davy. 

It seemed like such a sweet little dog. Who were the people who’d left it behind?  

If you walk by someone else’s property and see a potentially neglected or abused animal, this could be a warning sign that people on the property are also being abused or neglected. If you are interested in learning about the connections between mistreatment of animals and mistreatment of people, consider clicking on the link below: 

https://ndaa.org/wp-content/uploads/The-Link-Monograph-2014-3.pdf 

 

By   A. Hosack & P. Berman & K. Hecht 

I’m not fired, I’m not fired, I must get back to work.  I have to help my next patient! 

Claire still feels like a total failure and is struggling to do her job. She forces herself up from the chair and notices she still has the full cup of coffee the dentist gave her. She tries to take a sip, but it just makes her stomach hurt more; she throws it into the trash and walks quietly to her workspace and cleans everything up to be ready for the next patient. How can she do this? Will her next patient be as dissatisfied and angry as the last one?  

Claire finds herself beginning to hyperventilate. She can’t have a panic attack now. She just can’t. She tries to use her deep breathing exercises, but she can’t focus her attention inward. She pulls her picture of Davy out of the pocket of her work smock where she always keeps it. 

It is such a cute picture of Davy with his arms around her legs. I will get back to work- for my Davy 

Focusing her attention on how much she loves Davy, helps her breathing to slow down. The panic attack has been shoved away. Claire walks with determination out to the waiting room and calls her next patient, fortunately it’s an adult – she just doesn’t feel ready to try face another child and parent. Claire is very lucky. This woman patient is extremely friendly and talks nonstop. Claire doesn’t have to say much of anything. When she’s done cleaning the woman’s teeth, Claire is fully calm and back to her routine. As Claire escorts her back to the waiting room, she feels a genuine smile on her face as the patient waves to her gaily as she walks out the door. 

I did it. I did it for Davy. 

Claire is able to feel proud for a moment. She has overcome a panic attack. However, she doesn’t have time to think about herself. She calls in her next patient who seems to be a very withdrawn adult. She isn’t sure if she is ready for a challenging patient but then, she notices how much he is sweating. She wonders if he’s scared about having his teeth cleaned; some people are afraid of the Dentist’s office. Claire knows what to do, she trained for this in school. She is going to explain every task that she is about to do and smile at him before she does it. The dentist walks by to hear her carefully explaining to him how she will be cleaning his teeth and shows him the tool that she will be using. The dentist smiles to herself and walks past the room. She has seen that Claire is doing her usual very fine job; she has no idea how hard this was for Claire to due after being yelled at. 

Claire has been sweating profusely under her work smock; fortunately, it doesn’t show. While she has not gone into a panic attack, the day has been a constant struggle for her.  She needs to be home where she feels safe- one more patient. 

This is my last patient. I can go home soon. 

Claire looks down at her schedule and recognizes that her last patient is a little boy. Can she handle it? It’s Gregory, thank goodness. She’s worked on his teeth before and he really likes Claire. When Gregory bounces through the door, he shoves a picture in her general direction as his dad encourages him to slow down and remember his manners.  Claire looks at the picture and a big smile erupts on her face. The little boy has drawn a picture of himself with a huge mouthful of teeth. Gregory looks up at her and says, “do you like it? I made my teeth big so it would be easy for you to clean them.” “It’s wonderful Greggory, you are right, these big teeth are going to be so easy to clean!” His dad scoops him up and puts him in the dental chair and then says, “see you later munchkin, once your teeth are shiny.”   

Claire smiles at Greggory, opening her mouth wide to show her teeth. “Now it’s your turn Greggory, let me see those huge teeth of yours!” The time goes by swiftly. It is her usual, fun time with a child. Will the pain of that one bad experience evaporate now? The Dentist has forgotten all about it. But, Claire has not. The moment she is out of the office and alone, fearful thoughts flood her mind. She walks off in a daze, forgetting to cross the street to her bus stop sign. It is only when it starts to drizzle that Claire wakes up to her surroundings. 

Where’s the bus stop? 

Claire looked around –nothing looked familiar. Where was she and where was the bus stop? “I am so stupid,” she said out loud. She noticed a bench on the sidewalk up ahead; she went and sat down trying to clear her head. 

I know how to get home. I just have to calm down. I’m going to close my eyes and imagine my fish. 

It took five minutes for Claire to focus her attention and really see her fish in her head. She smiled and opened her eyes. She didn’t see the bus stop sign but it was getting dark and hard to see. She stood up and turned in a wide circle looking for the tall building that housed the dental office where she worked. There it was! She started walking towards it while slowly looking around until she saw the bus stop across the street. She hurried across and looked at the posted schedule carefully. She’d missed the bus by about 10 minutes.          

I hate myself I am such an idiot to have missed that bus. Such an idiot. Such an idiot. 

Time passed as painful thoughts once again took over Claire’s mind. But, when the bus came, the noise and the wind of its arrival woke her up. She stepped onto the bus and sat down quickly became lost again. The words were so clear in her head. They began with the child calling for his mother because she was hurting him. Then, his mother was screaming for the Dentist, and finally the most painful and powerful words of all- her mother screaming that she was a waste of space.  Claire was so lost in her head that she didn’t hear the bus driver announcing her stop.  

At the end of the line, the driver looked back at her and said she had to get off the bus. Claire was at least two miles from home. What could she do? 

Have you ever been so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t get off a bus or a train on time? How did you get yourself back on track? 

Should Claire ask the bus driver for help? 

Would this be a safe choice for a young woman who finds herself alone in a strange place

y  K. Hecht, A. Hosack & P. Berman 

 

What did I do? She is yelling at me. She sounds so like my mother. I must keep it together! 

Claire was having a very stressful day at work. Nothing she is doing is working like she has come to expect but she is trying to act professionally despite that. She has been cleaning a seven- year- old boy’s teeth- they were very dirty. She was doing her normal thing, trying to be friendly by talking to his teeth as if they were alive. She said to them, “dear teeth, you need to ask the toothbrush to brush up and down for a least five seconds or you might get a cavity.”  Usually, the child would laugh and tell her that teeth couldn’t talk, or something like that. Then, she would demonstrate the best way to brush teeth.  

This time was different. Claire had been brushing gently up and down with her toothbrush, to show the child how to clean his teeth. The little boy suddenly screamed out, “mommy come quick the lady is hurting me.” When his mother rushed in, she should have seen that Claire was trying to talk to her son to find out what was wrong.  

The mother never asked Claire what was going on. Instead, she just started yelling, telling Claire she had better stop hurting her son. By this time, the little boy was crying. Claire tried to take deep breaths to keep calm. She tried to explain that she was just trying to teach the little boy how to brush his teeth more effectively.  

Nothing worked, the mother was yelling, and the dentist came rushing in to find out what was going on. The mother didn’t give Claire a chance to say anything. She just told the dentist that Claire had hurt her son and clearly knew nothing about working with children and should be fired. Claire stood there frozen. She was back in her home hearing her mother yelling at her about everything she did wrong- telling her she was worthless, a waste of space.  

I can’t do anything right. I belong in the garbage. I am a waste of space. 

The dentist tried to ask Claire a question, but she didn’t hear it; she was reliving past memories of abuse. The dentist examined the little boy and explained to the mother that she believed there was a deep cavity in the tooth that had caused the pain. She said that x-rays were needed to determine this. At these words, the mother started screaming again, saying this proved Claire was incompetent, why was she brushing a tooth that had a cavity! 

I am fired. I will never get another job. The Carsons will be so disappointed with me. 

Claire didn’t hear anything her boss and the mother said. Her head was full of negative thoughts that would once again lead her to hear her mother speaking “you’re just a waste of space.” The next thing Claire was aware of, she was in the small kitchen area where everyone often had lunch. The dentist was handing her a cup of coffee. She looked up at the dentist and whispered, “am I fired.” (dentist sighs) 

“Claire, I am so sorry you had to go through that experience. This is a new family to my practice. I had no idea how difficult they would be. That child has a mouth full of cavities. But, still, given how gentle you are with children, I don’t see why this would have caused so much pain. (Claire starts crying). You didn’t do anything wrong. That child could be in pain from the cavities, could have some underlying medical condition that has given him very sensitive teeth, or….(dentist sighs again) he may not be in pain but not want his teeth cleaned. (1-minute silence) 

“So, you aren’t firing me?” Claire whispered. “Of course not, anyone would have had difficulty with that family. I am more worried about you. Are you alright?”

I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to talk. I feel as if I am breaking. But I can’t break. I have to take care of my Davy! 

Claire was pale and visibly upset. She had come a long way since she lived with her parents but her self-esteem was still fragile from experiencing years of emotional abuse. She couldn’t crack but she felt like she was cracking apart with blood slowly saturating her clothing. No. She couldn’t be like this. She had to fight it. 

The dentist had no idea what Claire was going through. She thought Claire was probably one of those naive young women who just hadn’t experienced a lot of stress in their lives. While feeling that Claire was overreacting to being yelled at, she had confidence that Claire would learn to deal with this sort of patient with more experience. It was just a fact of work life that not all patients were polite, kind, or appreciative. For now, the dentist needed to get back to her patient. She gently pushed Claire into a chair, encouraged her to take some time to drink her coffee and then asked her to try and get back to work in a few minutes as there were other patients waiting. 

No one wants to be yelled at when they are trying to do their best. Does anyone ever want to be yelled at?  

To read about reasons people yell and its potential effects consider reading the following: 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/towards-recovery/201704/please-yell-me 

By P. Berman K. Hecht & A. Hosack, 

 

I can’t do too much for this bus. It needs a body shop but where is the money going to come from? 

Ted was underneath the bus trying to repair damage caused by the driver ramming it into a tree; thank goodness it was old- it had the type of heavy metal bumper that could take a lot of impact. Ted had been keeping the old bus road worthy for the monks ever since his discharge from Afghanistan two years ago. He never drove it himself- that was Michael’s job; poor guy, Ted hoped he be alright. It had been Ted’s job to call the hospital and find out how Michael was doing; he had been hesitant to make the call; Michael was old, and a heart attack didn’t sound good.  

Ted had loved driving cars when he was younger. But his tour driving trucks in a war zone had ended all that. He had been in several serious vehicles crashes due to roadside bombs and his best friend had been crushed when their vehicle had flipped over and landed on him in the road. Now, even small unexpected sounds could trigger his memories of his friend, ripped apart by the impact of the vehicle smashing into him. 

Ted has come home, nervous and angry. His post-traumatic stress symptoms made him hard to employ. He had tried going back to his civilian job driving a grocery truck- but quickly found that the loud and erratic street noises of the city were intolerable to him now. In his second job, at a large auto mechanic shop, he would lose his temper if a manager told him to hurry up. After being fired from this job, Ted began to drink. His wife Marcy recognized he was on a downward spiral and tried hard to get him to go to the VA for help.  

Ted refused- nothing was wrong, except everything was. Ted had never been a church going but his wife and children were regular attendees at Catholic services. It was his wife’s confessor who had heard of this job at the monastery and had started the process of helping Ted gain this job. It had been exactly what he needed. The monastery had the kind of peace and quiet Ted needed to be at his best. The monks were very kind to him and quickly treated him as part of their community. Working on the bus didn’t take up too much of Ted’s time. He also repaired the small equipment used by the monks and helped them cart away unneeded materials from their garden. 

It was not Ted’s work on the car, but a monk accidentally dropping a garbage can that woke Larry up. Startled, he looked around him and for a moment couldn’t imagine where he was; then he remembered, he was at a monastery- full of monks! He jumped out of bed and opened the door, listening carefully for any signs of trouble but not hearing anything. Walking softly down the corridor, Larry began to hear some sounds he recognized.

Larry opened a side door that looked familiar and there he was in the courtyard where he had driven the bus last night; there were legs sticking out from under it.  Curious, he put his head down under the car and saw Ted. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but I just got here last night (1-minute pause) I don’t really know what I should be doing with myself.” Ted smiled at him and said, “Well, you can help me with these repairs if you know anything about cars? (Larry nodded) This old bus had a lot of its bolts shaken hard during the accident. A lot needs to be cleaned, tightened, and oiled so it won’t fall off.”  

Larry laughed and slid under the bus. Ted reached out his hand and said, “I’m Ted. Are you the man who drove the monks here last night?” “Yes,” Larry said cautiously, was he about to be blamed for the accident? “I just wanted to thank you for saving Michael yesterday, (Ted saw Larry’s brief look of confusion) Michael was the bus driver.” Larry blushed from embarrassment. He should have known the man’s name after all that time he had spent waiting at the hospital to hear how he was doing. 

Larry had grown curious about Michael for some reason. Helping him to lie down. Driving his bus. Helping get him in the hospital. All these small actions had somehow made him feel connected to the man. Larry had been discouraged all his life from asking questions. His father didn’t like them and neither did the gang.  

Can I ask how Michael is doing? Why do I need to know if he is alright? 

“I know it’s not my business but… do you know how Michael is doing?” Larry asked. Ted started to laugh, “That guy is something else. I called the hospital to talk to him and all he could do was complain about the food.” “Is the food better here?” Larry asked, “I figured monks probably ate terrible stuff.” “Well, it depends on how well our garden is doing,” Ted said. “When the garden is growing well, our food is good,” Ted said smiling, “but, when the weather is bad, it can get a little grim here. The monks try to be completely self-sufficient. They have no money and the donations all go to keep the buildings in order.”  

An hour later, considering the state of the front end, the bus looked in reasonable order. Ted said, “I will need someone to drive the bus down to a body shop to get the front end repaired. Do you think you could do it?” “I guess I could, if the monks don’t have some other plan for me,” Larry said. “Let me get you something to eat and then we can search for the Abbott and find out what the plan is.” 

The plan for me. I wonder what that could be? 

Larry was still suspicious about the monks but after all, no one had asked him to help repair the van- that had been his choice. The Abbott, who ever that was, couldn’t force him to do anything. Ted led Larry into the kitchen, “at dinner, you will eat with all the brothers but during the day, I often just make myself a small snack– they often don’t eat a mid-day meal.” Ted began taking bread, cheese and fruit out of the refrigerator. “Are you a monk,” Larry asked. Ted didn’t look or act like a monk to him but then, what did he know.  

“No,” Ted said, “I just work here. But they treat me great, like I am a member of their community. I actually feel more comfortable here than at home with my wife and kids.” 

It’s great that Ted has found a place where he can work without his post-traumatic stress symptoms standing in the way….but shouldn’t the VA be giving him the services he needs to recovery fully from his tour in Afganistan? 

The VA does offer information and services for veterans with post-traumatic stress, other psychological disorders, and other problems in living. If you know military personnel who might benefit from receiving some of these services consider reading the following: 

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/ 

By A. Hosack, P. Berman & K. Hecht 

It happened so fast. They are trusting me. This feels unreal. 

Larry was so very tired, but his brain wouldn’t shut off. He couldn’t stop thinking about how different his life was now.  All these people around him had such trust for each other. Why? He and the monks had been at the hospital for a day and a half. Only Larry had money, so he had bought food for everyone- they were so grateful to him. How could they be grateful to him? Didn’t they understand that he owed them his life? Larry was trying to feel grateful to them, but he had never felt this emotion before- except maybe after having sex with Claire. Try as he might, he couldn’t get rid of the suspicious thoughts that kept coursing through his brain. 

What could they want from him? What might they be planning?  

Larry and the monks were all sitting quietly together in the lounge. A doctor came out of the critical care unit and came over to them. He said the bus driver’s condition was stable, and he was resting comfortably. He would be moved out of critical care later in the day, but the doctor wanted him to stay at the hospital for a few more days at least. The monks talked together briefly- they felt it was safe to leave the driver at the hospital and proceed on to the monastery. Someone would return to get him when it was safe for him to leave. The monks had no money and no medical cards for the driver, but the hospital was just trusting the monks at their word that the church would pay all the medical costs.   

As they filed out of the hospital, without asking him, the monks just assume Larry would resume his role of bus driver. They all waited for him to get in the bus first; this felt so strange to Larry. They then filed into the bus silently and took seats.  Larry gave them a quick look, to make sure they will all seated and then, started the engine and they were off.  He was suspicious that these monks might be like his dad, assuming he would be their free slave forever, working for them without pay.  

Larry couldn’t abandon them and take off, the black car was still following the bus. It had waited while they were in the hospital, this made Larry’s blood run cold. The miles piled on. The monks fell asleep. Larry didn’t notice it, but the black car took the next exit and left the highway. A cell phone call went off to Philadelphia, “I think they are headed to Cincinnati boss,” Martin said. “Okay, we will turn back then.” Martin pushed all thoughts of Larry out of his head and headed home; thankful to be alive. 

How could they fall asleep? Didn’t they realize I could just pull over right now and strand them all! 

These monks were beyond belief. They had prayed nonstop in the hospital, showing no sign of fatigue. But now, they were all asleep- trusting him to get them home to the monastery. Larry saw a few towns he might have run off too but, he couldn’t strand them; for some reason, he had to get them home. What led all these men to become monks? What a weird life they must lead? The sun had just set when the first Cincinnati sign came up.  

When the city finally appeared out of the dark, all of Larry’s fatigue seemed to disappear. It looked beautiful! The buildings had colored lights that were reflecting off the river. If it had the dirt and grime of Philadelphia, it was covered by the darkness. Larry drove the bus over the bridge spanning the river and headed into the city.  

Was this a new start for him? Could life be better here? 

As if by a miracle, a monk who knew the way to the monastery woke up and began to give him directions.  It took about twenty more minutes before Larry had taken the last turn and they had pulled into their destination. The fatigue hit him like a wall. Larry was just slumped in the seat of the bus with his head drooping to one side as the monks filed off the bus. They were out and now another man- Ted came in. He kept patting Larry on the shoulder until he woke up. “Come this way, mister. You have to lie down; you must be exhausted.” Ted led Larry in through a side door of the monastery and brought him into a small room with nothing in it but a bed. “Just lie down and sleep as long as you want. I’ll come back later and see if you are ready to eat.” 

Larry didn’t hear a word. He just fell down on the bed and went immediately to sleep. 

Moving to a new location does give Larry the opportunity to change. His face isn’t familiar to the police or any gang members who might live there. No one had his address and he didn’t have a phone number. But, his traumatic childhood remains with him where ever he goes. 

Larry could choose to face his past piece by piece and use strategies like his son Davy is learning. However, this would be even harder for him than Davy. Davy has been getting help to develop positively almost from the moment of his birth. Larry was the victim and has also been the perpetrator of complex trauma.  

Larry is beginning to experience positive social and emotional support. This has been found to increase the quality of life and protect people from health risks. To read a scholarly article on the positive impact of social and emotional support go to: 

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2729718/ 

By   K. Hecht, A. Hosack, & P. Berman 

Hey, are you okay? Hey, wake up? 

Larry is crouching down next to the driver whose head has fallen against the front wheel of the bus. Talking to him gently, Larry was trying to help the driver regain consciousness. He didn’t smell sour, so it wasn’t a problem with drinking too much. Could it be drugs? Finally, the driver groans. Larry helps him slide out from behind the wheel, a monk has gotten up and takes one side of the man as Larry takes the other and they move him gently over to lie down on the first row of bus seats.  

The monk looks up at Larry and says, “We have to get him to the hospital. I don’t know how to drive a bus. Find out if anyone else can.” Larry nodded and slowly went through the bus asking all the monks. No one had ever driven anything with a stick shift- but Larry.  On the farm he had driven tractors and other farm equipment. He had just asked the last monk who was sitting at the back of the bus. Larry looked out the back window- the black car was just sitting there. He had to get this bus moving. 

Larry rushed back to the front of the bus, told the monk who seemed to be in charge that while he had never driven a bus, he did have stick shift experience so he would see what he could do. Larry sat in the driver’s seat and looked around carefully. It had a familiar look. He turned back towards the monks and called out, “everyone must get back in their seats and hold on while I try to get the bus back on the road.” With a determined look, Larry shifts into reverse and the bus slowly inches away from the tree. 

 

I did it! Keep your eyes on the road you idiot before you kill them all! 

Just for an instant, Larry felt good about himself but then his father’s words came back to him; he looked straight ahead focusing his attention on the bus. Its front end was smashed in from hitting the tree, but the engine was still working, and he had it moving at a fast clip down the road. He was searching for any sign that there was a hospital around. He had left his cell phone back in the church so that the gang couldn’t use it to track him; the monks didn’t carry phones, so the search depended on Larry’s eyes.   

Larry was squinting ahead, tired after another two hours driving in the dark worrying that he would take too long and the man would die because of him. The bus had passed some small towns but nothing that had a hospital. Was that a blue hospital sign? “Everyone, I think I saw a hospital sign, Larry said uncertainly. Another monk came to the front, in case he could help. Larry admitted that he wasn’t positive, but he believed there was a sign saying the next exit had a hospital. The monk just said, “thank you for all you are doing. I believe the driver had a heart attack. His life may be saved because of your quick thinking.” 

Larry didn’t have time yet to process these words, he was slowing down to take the exit and then looking ahead for further signs of the hospital. There were none.  

Am I an idiot! Is this man going to die- how stupid of the town not to put up another sign showing the direction to take to the hospital. 

Larry was furious and pounding the front wheel of the bus. He didn’t know if he hated himself or the town more. Why did he care if the man lived or died? But he did. What was that? Suddenly Larry heard a sound. It was a police siren. Larry didn’t know whether to jump off the bus and rush off or try to bluff it out. He looked back at all the monks who were looking silently at him. They were depending on him.  

They think I can handle this. They don’t know what a loser I am.  

Fatalistically, Larry pulled the bus over to the right side of the road and lowered the front window. “What happened to your bus sir?” Larry was shocked by the “sir”; he was being treated with respect. Looking at the officer he said, “the driver had a heart attack officer and the bus hit a tree. I am just trying to get us to a hospital, but I don’t know how to get there.” “I’ll get you there,” the officer said. He put his police siren on, and his vehicle headed off at a fast clip. Larry followed swiftly behind. Within ten minutes, they were parked in front of the emergency entrance to a hospital.  

The officer knew exactly what to do. Within an instant, there were emergency personnel on the bus taking the driver’s vitals. They gave him a shot of something and then put him on a stretcher and rushed him into the building; the monks all followed. 

Larry slowly backed the bus out of the way of the emergency room door and parked the van. He sat there for a moment, not knowing what to do.  

“Sir, can you follow me please.” It was the police officer. Why did he come back? Was he going to arrest Larry? There was really no choice. The black car was parked near the bus. At least with the police officer, Larry was safe. He followed the police officer into the hospital.  The officer had no idea who Larry was. He just needed Larry’s help! “I need to fill out a report on the accident,” the officer said, looking down as he wrote down the date. “Can you tell me everything you remember about the accident?”   

Larry’s life is continuing down an unexpected path. First, the priest began helping him just because he asked for help. Then, the monks risked their own lives by letting him onto their bus. Now, a police officer was treating him as if he counted for something. It took about fifteen minutes but then the police officer thanked him, and Larry was left alone in the hospital waiting room. Larry put his head down in his hands and just wondered where his life was going. 

Could exposure to the Monks change Larry for the better? Did the emergency itself change Larry? 

Research on emergencies shows that there are three categories of people who may be impact by an emergency. Larry is one of the primary victims or survivors of an emergency as he was in the bus when the accident occurred and continues to be directly involved. The police officers and now the medical personnel are the emergency responders who are trained to handle traumatic events, and the last are the vicarious observers- the other people who know the victims/survivors or the emergency responders or hear about the event. All these individuals could experience a negative or positive impact from their involvement in the event in the short or long term. To read more about emergencies and their psychological impact go to: 

https://www.amnh.org/research/natural-science-collections-conservation/general-conservation/emergency-preparedness/emergency-response/psychological-effects-of-emergencies 

By P. Berman, A. Hosack, & K. Hecht 

I punished myself. I didn’t eat the cookie- it was so smelly good and right in front of me! Mr. and Mrs. Carson said they would help keep the mean daddy away. 

Davy was eating his vegetables first. He had told everyone at dinner that he gave up the cookie because he had lied to his mommy and was eating his vegetables first to show he was sorry for lying to Mrs. Carson. The grownups had told him he was being a very big boy to be able to figure out his own punishment for lying. 

Davy didn’t feel any stomach pain anymore. It was the lies bubbling in his tummy that had been making him feel bad. He was glad he had punished himself by giving up something he had wanted. It made the lying bubbles go away. Davy ate a good meal. Everyone else did too. Davy was surprised that everyone seemed to be okay, even though he had lied twice. The grownups were going to talk together in the living room to think about any other ways they could help keep the mean daddy away. 

While he was feeling better about the mistake he made in not just telling his mommy the truth to begin with, he was still feeling scared about the mean daddy. He jumped up after dinner and said, “it’s time for you, grownups to talk.” “My Davy, please remember that grownups have chores they need to do just like you do in putting your clothes in the hamper. Please help me finish up my chores by bringing your dish and silverware to the sink. Mr. and Mrs. Carson have to put the leftover food away so we will have delicious sandwiches tomorrow at lunch.” 

“And then, you will make plans to keep me safe,” Davy said anxiously. “Yes, we will my Davy and you can listen to us talking if you don’t interrupt,” Claire said. “I will try but sometimes I have problems with being polite.” Mr. and Mrs. Carson hid their smiles as they carried the food dishes back into the kitchen. put the dishes in the sink and then we will talk my Davy.” Davy was sitting on the floor by his mommy’s place on the couch. The living room seemed like such a serious place when there was no game on the coffee table. Davy was on his knees when Claire sat down, he grabbed her legs and put his head down against her knees. She stroked his hair as they waited for the Carsons to come in and sit down. 

Mrs. Carson started the conversation, “well, we have our plan for school and for walking home from the bus. What other situations might there be that we need to think through?” It wasn’t an easy question; Claire had no idea when or if Larry would show up. She had stopped sending letters and she never received another one from him. Mr. Carson said, “Let’s talk about what we will do, if a letter comes from the mean daddy.” 

“If a letter comes, Mrs. Carson said, let’s just mark it return to sender and put it back for the post to take it.” (1-minute silence) Claire said, “The problem with that is if the letter is telling me that he is coming. He might show up before the letter was returned to him.” “That’s a good point. I guess you need to read it first and then if we need too, we can plan what to do if he tries to come in person,” Mr. Carson said. 

Pulling her pants leg repeatedly, Claire looked down and said, “what do you want to say Davy?” “Thank you, mommy, I was trying not to interrupt but you forgot to talk about what you will do with the letter after you read it?” “I am proud of you for not interrupting to tell me that, it was smart to signal me so you could be polite and tell me about the problem.” 

My mommy is proud of me! Yeah!! 

Mr. Carson said to Davy, “would you like us to shred the letter together, after your mommy checks it?” “Yes, let’s do that and maybe put the scraps out for the birds to make nests out of.” Mrs. Carson said, “the nests would look very nice with paper scraps in them.” “I don’t know how he would get our phone number, but we need a plan for if he calls,” Claire said. 

 

The Carsons have this pretty pink phone in the hall that their daughter had picked out for the family when she was little. Davy loved to push the buttons on this phone when the grownups would help him reach. He wasn’t allowed to answer the phone.Thank goodness, this meant he didn’t have to hear the mean daddy’s voice. Claire said, “which ever grownup answers the phone, we should give the mean daddy the same message. How about, “Claire and Davy don’t live here anymore (moment of silence) but that’s would be a lie.” (1-minute of silence) Mr. Carson suggested, “I am sorry that you called here. Your calls are not welcome, please do not call again.” 

“That’s a good message Mr. Carson,” Davy said interrupting, but then putting his hand over his mouth- he had interrupted, and he was afraid they would now send him out of the room. “While you did interrupt Davy, I agree that it is a good message. It tells the truth but in a polite way,” Mrs. Carson said.  

“Well, my Davy, are you ready to hear us discussing the scariest plan, what to do if the mean daddy shows up at the door?” Claire asked. Davy turned white as a sheet, but he shook his head “yes.” He had put his fist in his mouth to help him remember not to interrupt again. “We could say a similar thing to him in person. I am sorry you came here. Your visits are not welcome, pleases do not come again,” Mr. Carson said. 

Your visits are not welcome. Please do not come again. Can I say this? 

Claire looked down at her Davy. He was looking so white and he was making teeth marks in his fist. She would tell Larry this. She would use her mad mommy determined voice. If he tried to push in, which she wouldn’t suggest could happen in front of Davy, she will tell the Carsons they should immediately call the police; she would wait to mention this after Davy was asleep. 

“Okay everyone, this was hard but good thinking; let’s get our ice cream dessert now,” Mr. Carson suggested. Davy raised his hand. “What is it my Davy,” Claire asked. “We need one more plan before ice cream. (brief silence) We need a plan for if that mean daddy shows up in my dreams again,” Davy said clutching his mommy’s legs. 

“You are right, my Davy. Your mean daddy could show up in your dreams again. But we already have a plan for that. We just need to practice it more. We are going to do mindfulness with our fish.” “I had forgotten mommy, could you help me practice the steps again… after we have ice cream? Davy said anxiously. “Yes, we can. We can even show the Carsons what we are doing if you would like to?” “Yes,” Mrs. Carson said, “I don’t know what mindfulness means.” “Oh, mommy and I can show you after ice cream.” 

Davy is learning how to think about hard problems and break them down into smaller steps that are easier to solve by listening in while his mommy and the Carsons talk about his father. This strategy is called modeling. The adults model the behavior they want the child to learn and the child learns from observing. 

Children are always watching adults. Is there a behavior you would like to “teach” your child by making it part of family time together? If you want to know more about how to teach a child, by being a role model of what you want to teach, consider watching this video on YouTube. It was created by a student learning about Dr. Alfred Bandura and his theory of how we learn through our social environments: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Cptzo3-sHI 

By   P. Berman, A. Hosack K. Hecht, 

Mr. Carson gave up her special day with his friends to stay with me. He played games with me, he kept checking my forehead. I feel so terrible now! 

Claire was getting off the bus and walking the final blocks to home. She had been worried about Davy all day and had checked on him by calling Mr. Carson during her lunch break. When Mrs. Carson came home at 2 p.m., she checked Davy too. She and Mr. Carson thought Davy was just under the weather, maybe a tooth, maybe some other minor problem; nothing to bring Claire home early from work for.  Claire tried to keep her attention on work. It was so hard even though she knew the Carsons would take good care of her little sweetheart. 

I can’t stand it one more minute! 

Claire was tired but she started to run and by the time she got to the front door, she was breathing heavily. “My Davy she cried out, as she dropped on the floor inside the front door.” Davy came running, “what’s wrong mommy,” Davy said, alarmed by her heavy breathing. “Nothing is wrong my Davy. I just missed you so much I ran my legs off!” Davy forgot to pretend and jumped in her lap and gave her a big hug. “I love you so much mommy!”  

He is better! He jumped in my lap! Of course, he is better- I knew the. Carsons would take great care of him. Why do I worry so much?” 

Claire does know – in one sense –that she can always count on the Carsons. She has been learning a lot from reading her parenting magazine and recognizes how much they know about parenting. She still worried- deep inside, that they would discover how unworthy she was. Then, they would stop showering her with love and maybe even (her deepest fear) kick her and Davy out. Her sweet son, Davy, needed the Carsons to make sure he was alright- despite having her as a mom. Davy clearly loved her so much that Claire always had this small nag of terror at the back of her mind that he would be taken from her. This ache sometime severe and terrifying, sometimes small and haunting, came with it her mother’s voice saying, “you are a waste of space.”   

What would her life be like if that chorus ended? Could it end? Dr. Berman felt she had the power to turn the chorus off. In sessions, Claire felt she did have the power to do it but, the world outside was so hard and the thoughts were so strong.  

Claire shook her head and tried to force these thoughts back. She remembered a mindfulness exercise she had learned from Dr. Berman. She needed to just feel Davy in her lap. She could let her mom’s voice just pass through her mind. She could be aware of them but not feel they were justified. Claire didn’t realize it but as she tried to cope with her mother’s voice, she had begun to grip Davy tightly. 

“Mommy that hurts.” Claire abruptly ended her death grip at Davy’s words. “I am so sorry my Davy, my love for you is so strong that sometimes I forget not to squeeze you right into my heart.” These words flooded Davy with so much guilt he blurted out, “mommy, I have to tell you something or my stomach will burst open.” 

“My Davy, what’s wrong?” Claire’s attention shifting from her own problems to her son’s words. “Mommy, I am not sick. I am just a dirty liar who deserves to be punished,” he said, as tears began to stream down his face.  Surprised, Claire pulled a tissue out of her pocket and said, “My Davy is not a dirty liar, but he does make mistakes sometimes.” Claire was gently wiping his tears with her tissue and looking into his eyes. 

“Mommy, you have to listen to me. (1-minute pause, Claire is just looking at him) “Davy, I am ready to listen (1-minute silence) Davy…you aren’t saying anything,” Claire whispered. “I have to tell you a hard thing mommy. You will be mad. I have been bad. I was not sick this morning. I haven’t been sick, all day. I just lied so you would let me stay home. (I-minute pause) Claire did feel mad but she was controlling her breathing like Dr. Berman taught her so she could understand what Davy was saying.  

Davy is admitting he is lying. This is a good step for a small boy. But he still lied. Something needs to be done.  

The breathing exercise had calmed Claire down. She felt a controlled anger now and knew what to say. “Davy, it was wrong of you to lie to me. (Claire looked down and Davy got a little scared. He knew he deserved to be punished but, what would his mommy do?) You have told me the truth now. That is a good start. We need to get up off the floor and go into the kitchen. You need to tell Mr. and Mrs. Carson the truth too. Then, you have to help us understand why you didn’t tell us the truth today.” 

I don’t want to get off mommy’s lap. It is safe here. What will the grownups do? 

Davy didn’t want to leave his mommy’s lap. He felt safe while he was hugging her. But he knew he had done wrong. He got up and waited for his mommy to get up too. He reached for her hand and was reassured that she squeezed it gently. They walked into the kitchen. Davy sighed. That wonderful smell of cookies. Mrs. Carson had a plate with a cookie and a glass of milk ready for him and his mommy to share.  

“Mrs. and Mr. Carson, I have to tell you something terrible. I can’t eat my share of the cookies that smell so good.” These words grabbed both the Carson’s attention. They looked at Claire and saw her angry mom face. They sat at the kitchen table, the place they used for serious Davy talks. Davy sat down in his usual seat. He looked at the cookies and sighed. 

First, he lies about being sick. Now, he says he won’t be eating a cookie.  What a day of surprises! 

Claire sits down at the table and has nothing to say- she is so surprised. All the grownups look at Davy and wait for him to say more. “I dreamed about the mean man last night,” Davy said sadly. “I was brave when I was with you mommy and tore up his picture, but he came back to haunt me when I tried to sleep. He is stronger than me. I had to hide today. You can protect me from the mean daddy, mommy, but can my teacher? She can’t even keep Scotty from pulling his sister’s hair in class,” Davy said sadly, staring at the cookies.  

“Davy, you don’t have to hide at the house to be safe from your mean daddy. I will call you teacher and explain carefully that she is never to let anyone but me, or the Carsons pick you up from school. You know your teacher believes in rules. (Davy shakes his head vigorously yes) It is a rule that I have to fill out permission forms for anyone besides me to come for a school visit or pick you up at school.  will not let your mean daddy have permission to see you at school. Mommy and the Carsons will work as a team and not let him come see you at home either; three of us is stronger than one of him!” 

Davy felt better but still…. “what do I do if he shows up at the bus mommy? I am not stronger than the mean daddy, I know I am not.” Davy was looking down at his feet. “Davy, you are a big boy but still, no boy is physically stronger than a man. But you are a good thinker, you already figured out that keeping your mean daddy away from school and the house is not enough.” Davy smiled at her. 

“How about if one of your team is always there at the bus stop looking around to be sure your mean daddy isn’t there. Then, once you begin to walk off the bus, your team member will walk in front of you. If at any time you get worried your mean daddy might be around, you can hurry up and hold your team member’s hand as you walk down the sidewalk. If it feels safe, you will just walk yourself.” 

“Mommy, that plan is…almost as good as getting to eat a cookie,” Davy said with a sigh. “Yes, cookies are wonderful Davy. Aren’t we lucky that Mrs. Carson will have a cookie waiting for us tomorrow after school?” “Yes, thank you Mrs. Carson for always making me cookies. You can eat yours now, you don’t have to wait for tomorrow because you didn’t lie. Is it okay for me to play with my toys until dinner is ready? That will help me stop smelling these cookies.” “Yes, Davy, go play.” 

All the grownups stayed at the table and thought for a moment in silence before getting back to their pre-dinner work. The Carsons were proud of how well Claire handled the situation. They smiled at each other after she left the kitchen. Claire didn’t feel proud of herself. She had acted with confidence but in her heart, she knew she had a lot of work to do, if she was going to keep Larry out of the house instead of running into his arms. 

Why isn’t it easier to stop loving someone who hurts you?
 

Claire is fortunate in that she has found help in building healthy attachments from the Carsons and in processing her traumatic past with Dr. Berman. She is making great strides forward, but it isn’t an easy path to fully leave violent relationships in the past. If you know someone who needs further help, consider helping them get to a domestic violence shelter in your area or, if they aren’t ready for that, to  a website they could look at alone or with you to start just thinking about first steps they might be ready for. 

Women’s advocates is a group dedicated to ending the cycle of domestic violence. It has a very informative website that includes reasons women find it hard to leave at: 

https://www.wadvocates.org/find-help/about-domestic-violence/what-is-domestic-violence/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIie7nyrbT5AIVhovICh30CQ3bEAAYASAAEgIV7fD_BwE  

If someone’s violent experiences are also intermixed with sexual assault, another helpful website can be: 

https://www.rainn.org/about-rainn