Failure Is An Option

So often we hear that failure is not an option. Those five words are supposed to make us believe that if we try hard enough, work diligently enough, and want it bad enough that failure will never enter into our lives.  Those five words are bull puckey.

Failure is an option.  Frankly, when it comes to foster parenting I have learned that all options must be on the table.  That includes failure.  Now, many counselors, social workers, foster parents, and other professionals may look at that statement as a foster mother who has resigned herself to fail.  To give up.  To surrender.  Throw in the towel.  That's not what I mean.

We've been going through some battles in this house.  I've been going through these battles wearing two different hats, utilizing two different brands of logic, and what I have managed to accomplish is wearing myself out to the point where I don't want to try anymore but yet deep down I continue to push on.  I picture the social workers in our lives snapping a whip and yelling at me to, "Mush! Mush!"

I have two daughters.  Both have endured different types of situations.  I won't be getting into those situations because they are not pertinent to the point I'm trying to make here.   What is pertinent is one is very angry and the other is not.  Or at least not so much.

Anger is a deadly disease.  It will come into your home and infect all inhabitants and there's no medication, no quick cure to make it go away.  There's no period of time when you can reasonably expect the anger to fade.  I know this because, even though professionally I function as a therapist (when I'm not being a SAHM) but because I have had my own afflictions with anger.

Along with anger comes bullying.  My youngest is full of anger.  She wields that anger like a light saber (I'm not a Star Wars fan so I hope I used that term right) and it completely disrupts the moods, attitudes, and lives of everyone in the home.  I've used various types of techniques to correct the negative behavior, the attitude, and the bullying.  I've sunk as low as some good old fashioned passive aggressiveness.  But not anymore.

Last night my husband, my daughters, and I had a family meeting.  In that meeting I laid it all out as honest and free of bull puckey as possible:  do you want to live her or not?  I then went on to say that living here comes with certain expectations that I am no longer willing to budge on.  In order to remain living here she will need to: treat all family members in the home with respect (watching tone of voice, the words she chooses, the non-verbal communication she expresses), she will no longer be able to talk to my 13 year old like she's been talking to her.  She is to treat everyone in my family (extended, friends, professional or strangers that come into our home) and people she meets on the street with respect whether she feels she owes it to them or not.  If she cannot abide by the simple rule of: do unto others as you would have them do unto you then this is not the right place for her and she will more than likely be moved to a third home.

I never wanted to pull this card.  I never wanted to dangle that carrot.  But I had to come to the realization that it's not a bait and switch tactic.  It's not a dangled carrot to entice a desired behavior.  It's simply the way it is going to be around here.  It's simply what we, as parents, are willing to accept.  It's a way of life that we demand.  It's the honest truth.  If she cannot or is not willing to accept the way this family engages with each other and others then she's not a good match for this family and we have to make a break.

I didn't tell her this to hurt her feelings or even compel her to comply to rules or expectations of which she does not wish to comply.  I told her this because if her personality is such that will not allow her to abide by the simple rules of this house then it's not a good fit.  If we're not happy she can't be happy either. 

She told us she wants to say.  She apologized to her sister.  She still had a good degree of attitude in her voice and words but I'm not expecting overnight miracles.  Today she's doing a lot better.  She's not 100% happy (I banned Facebook in the home) but she's not given me any reason to correct her tone, attitude, or behavior either.  She hasn't complained today.  I also talked with her counselor and demanded weekly sessions to get to the root of the anger.  I told the counselor what the expectations in this home are and I want to get to the point where we start to notice changes or we all need to come to an agreement that this isn't working.

She's such a bright, beautiful girl.  I told her this.  She's capable of so many things.  Deep down behind all the hurt, the anger, and the pain is a girl who just wants to feel safe, loved, and happy.  If I didn't see, honestly believe in my soul, that this girl didn't want for herself what we want for her then I wouldn't put any of us through these attempts at behavior modification.  But as idealistic as I am, I've had to come to the realization that even if she wants it worse than we want it for her, we still may not be the best people for her.   The technical term then would be to say we "failed." 

My husband and I set out on the journey to love children who needed a stable, happy, loving family where they could feel safe, secure, and happy.  We said from the beginning that we would never "fail" them.  But by not being honest about the problems we're facing and owning up to the most viable of options we have at our disposal then we will have failed.

Failure is an option.  If you're a foster parent long enough, a placement is going to fail.  It's okay for a placement to fail. What is not okay is to fail the child.  Failure is NOT an option when it comes to the happiness, safety, and well being of the child.  That's why, however harsh you feel I was (and I understand your judgment of me), I had to be honest with her. This placement may turn around and be the best thing for all of us, but it also may fail.  I have accepted that if the placement does fail it's not because we failed her.  I have come to a peace that if we come to the decision this placement is not in the best interest of all parties then I will accept the failure of the placement.  I will not allow my desire to help result in failing the child.  She's deserving of more than that. 

Within the deepest part of my soul, on the days when I have reached what feels like the breaking point of my sanity, I keep holding tight to the Word God spoke into my heart several years ago: For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11).  God's plans may not be for this placement to work but if the time comes to admit defeat, I trust I will feel that peace within and know I'm doing the right thing.  My prayer is that it doesn't come to that.  But my faith affords me the knowledge that whatever is in store for our future as a family, we do not walk alone.  We have been given a divine plan, a purpose, hope, and a future.