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Lost Cause Kids

Never Give Up Hope

By E.L. MartinPublished 2 years ago โ€ข 18 min read
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Lost Cause Kids
Photo by Ben Wicks on Unsplash

I'm looking into the eyes of a sweet nine year old girl at the mental health facility I was a case manager at. I'm talking to her and casually asking her about her day. Then, I said something I'm not sure if I should have. I could tell by the look in her eyes that it shattered her world.

"You seem to get along well with the other children, your grades are good in school, and you even seem to enjoy the activities we've been performing in class. Through my observation this week, I can't figure out why exactly you are here. You seem healthy to me."

The look in her eyes changed to shock for the first time during our five plus minute conversation, and she began to sputter and stammer.

Her statement began with, "My mom says I have..." and she listed off about thirteen various mental health disorders. She followed up by explaining all of the difficulty she had caused her mother and her new boyfriend. She had been acting out and pulling a variety of stunts that were uncommon for her, and she couldn't explain why she was doing them so there had to be something wrong. Her mother had to be right about her having those disorders.

I listened to her patiently, and then once more said something I'm uncertain as to whether it was right for me to say, despite the gentleness I said it with.

"Honey, we've been talking to each other for close to ten minutes now. If you had any of those disorders, you wouldn't even be able to carry on a conversation."

"Oh, should I go back to the room now. I'm sorry for taking so long." she replied.

"No, no, that was not the point I was trying to make. I want to talk with you. My point is you can't have most of those disorders. Do you know what some of those illnesses that you just said are? Schizophrenia isn't usually diagnosed until later; twelve or thirteen at the earliest. Why do you think you have it?"

"Because my mother says I do, so it must be true." she asserted.

I put my hand to my forehead unconsciously. I was realizing that I had unintentionally started an argument with a nine year old that I was unlikely to win. I was also piecing together the type of parenting situation this child had, but instead I pressed for confirmation.

"When and how did she tell you these things? What was taking place when she informed you that you had these problems?" I ask.

"I'm just always causing problems for her and her boyfriend. I make messes. I do stupid stuff. I don't even know why I do it. They're always yelling at me and want me to leave them alone. They get mad when I don't clean up my toys or yesterday when I threw paint all over the walls of the bathtub. My mom is a different person now with her boyfriend. She isn't as nice as she used to be. She says that my dad was severely mentally ill, and that must be the problem. So, it's not her fault. It's mine. I even got a bad test grade because I wanted her to yell at me."

"Does her boyfriend yell at you?" I ask gently.

"All of the time. I think he hates me. My mom told him he can hit me if he wants because I deserve it for acting up, and that he can take the place of my dad."

"And this is when she tells you that you have all of those problems?" I inquire.

"Yes, can I go now?" she requests.

She has been fidgeting, and it is obviously an uncomfortable subject to discuss.

I nod my head affirmatively, thank her for sharing, and tell her that I think she is a really good kid.

By ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ฎ Janko Ferliฤ on Unsplash

The statement means nothing coming from me. I've only confused her. She won't believe me. She'll believe that she truly has those disorders, and that it is her fault. She'll be on medication the majority of her life. Maybe someone along the way will give her a similar statement as to what I did or explain it to her. If her mother has a say in it though, she'll switch to a different behavioral facility when that happens. That's usually how it goes. Her mother wouldn't lie to her, so why would I be telling the truth? I know I've made a blunder on saying what I've said. I know that I was hoping too much, and I know that I didn't want to turn that little girl's world upside down. To this day I consider, maybe it wasn't my place. Why did I say that?

Part of me feels bad for putting her through it, another part of me feels angry at her mother, and overall I feel overwhelmingly saddened by the entire situation. In that short conversation, I saw that her world was falling apart around her. She wouldn't know nor would her mother recognize it. It had been the two of them for some time, and big changes bring out big behaviors. Kids don't reason like adults. Many of them haven't developed the impulse control society expects. Children misbehave when things affect them, and they don't know how to cope with some of these bigger life changes yet. If anything, that little girl had an adjustment disorder to the new situation she had found herself in.

I seriously doubt it remained just an adjustment disorder. Her chart is probably filled with those same diagnoses her mother insisted she had and that the little girl believed. Her medical chart has probably increased substantially by now unless she happened to find a way out. Maybe her mother received therapy or counseling too. Maybe her mother split with her boyfriend that she loved so much, and things went back to normal. I don't know. I did see medications get added to her chart. I saw a few disorders get added. I didn't let my curiosity get the best of me by opening up the notifications to see what they were. Maybe I just wanted to intentionally deny myself the confirmation I suspected because it would no longer be my case to manage. It was my last week at that facility, and I knew I no longer had a say.

My mind was often filled with the question of, "Did I do the right thing? Should I have said that? Was that too risky for my position?"

I can't answer that question yet. For that particular case, I'll always be uncertain. I highly doubt I'll see her out in public and she'll remember me. I doubt if I would recognize her either since people can change a lot from 9 to 19. I know I said it because I cared, but did I care too much? Was it my place to care in the first place? Did she need my care? That was likely too much questioning for a nine year old. Maybe I should have left it alone. Part of these questions is why I needed to leave. Part of my caring was why I had to move on. I wanted to work with children. I wanted to help many out of their situations; some of which, I couldn't bear knowing they would return to. Some of those kids asked for me to visit them, but boundaries in my contract stated I could not. That killed me; in my mind, I was yet another person they had connected with that had left them.

By Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Still, I can say my experience was worth it in many regards. It changed my perspective considerably, and if one child was positively impacted by something I did in that position I'll be happy about it. The other therapists, case manager, and program manager informed me the children's chances were slim to none and that I shouldn't get my hopes up; most of them were lost causes. But like that little girl with her mother, I didn't want to believe what they were telling me either.

A loud mouthed, boisterous teen entered our program. She and the rest of the staff claimed she just said "nonsensical" stuff. She had tons of stories, and the rest of the staff found her completely and totally obnoxious. I listened to her quite a bit as I was the one who was tasked with picking her up and driving her home.

She asked me during one of those trips, "Don't I get on your nerves? You never act like I bother you, and I know I'm annoying. I even get on my own nerves! But, you're always so calm and just listen anyway. Everyone else thinks I'm obnoxious. That's obvious, and usually the reaction I have on people."

I'm a bit taken aback and chuckle a little.

"No, I don't find you obnoxious. I think you say a lot of things trying to be funny or to distract from things that do actually bother you, but that you don't want to really focus on. I've heard what you're saying. I do listen to you carefully. Your mother is in jail, and has been since you were three. Your grandmother is raising you, but she is exhausted all the time from working night shift, and you don't get to see her much even though you love her. You also dislike that she compares you to your mother, discourages any communication you want to have with your mother, and threatens that you'll wind up in jail just like her someday if you don't straighten your act up. That is why you lash out, and do "dumb stuff." You might as well prove her right if she's going to accuse you of it, right? As for getting on everyone's nerves, I get on my own nerves; everyone does. That's normal." I smirk.

The teen's expression looks stunned, yet excited. "Yes, that's right!"

"You don't actually want to do some of the problematic things you've done or behaviors you exhibit, do you? Based on our interactions, I don't think you do." I ask.

"No, I just don't feel like I have any other choice. Everyone around me knows about my mom. It's a label I can't get away from. I'm only allowed in certain crowds in school, and I'm not even sure my friends like me." she responds.

I nod. "Good friends are hard to come by, especially in high school. I have faith in you and believe you can become more than the labels others have given you. I think your reactions make sense given your situation, but you do have a choice even if it feels like you don't. Some people will see that. They'll see through to who you really are, but it will take time and likely different people than the ones you're around now."

"I just wish my grandma could see that I'm not my mother. But, it's natural to be curious about my mother, right? Even if she is a bad person." she says hesitantly.

I take a deep breath, and prepare to explain the heaviness that has just been unloaded.

"Yes, it is normal to be curious about your mother. She is your mom after all. But, your grandmother might not see it that way. Right now she is trying to protect you the way she knows how. I'm not making excuses for her, and I don't agree that it is the right way. I'm just saying that she likely harbors a lot of guilt about your mother's drug usage. She may blame herself or be in denial about it. I don't know, but I do know that it is obviously a complicated situation for her and you. She doesn't want you to turn out the same way as her daughter, and fears that you will. Even if she calls your mom a bad person, that doesn't mean she doesn't feel some shame or holds part of the blame for the way she turned out. She may just not want to recognize that. It is a hard thing to come to terms with as a parent, but it obviously bothers her. She likely doesn't see that she is pushing you further away by doing what she is."

"I just wish she didn't call my mother a bad person. It makes me feel like I'm a bad person because I came from her." she responds, looking at the ground then back at me.

"Have you told her that or talked to her about it?" I inquire.

"No, she's always too busy or too tired, and I don't think she would understand." she responds looking out the car window.

By Lucia Macedo on Unsplash

"You've said a lot of things about your grandmother these past few days. You said she taught you how to cook and bake, and that you love it when you get to do those things together. She makes sure that she has dinner with you in the evenings, and that her friend or a close neighbor is there to look after you while she works. She is also helping you study for your driving test. She tries to take you places you'll enjoy on her days off. She obviously cares for you, and tries to make time for you when she can. Try talking to her about it, and she might be more receptive than you think."

"I'll try, but every time I bring up my mother though it just starts a fight." she responds.

"I'll talk to her about it when we meet at the end of this week, and recommend stronger communication and family counseling in your after care plan. That should help or make it easier. I know when we did your paperwork; she expressed a great deal of concern for you and her relationship with you. She wants to be there for you, but isn't sure how. You're both willing to work on things and that is promising. But, you should bring it up to her too. Communicating is the only way to fix this problem."

She looks thoughtful for a moment, smiles then changes the subject. More silliness ensues, and I smile because I know she didn't want to exit the vehicle on a serious note. She waves happily at me and thanks me as she returns home.

Later in the week, she notices that I'm excluded from the main adult group of behavioral techs, therapists, fellow case managers and supervisors during lunchtime. The other children in our surprisingly large group of students have somewhat noticed it too, but she is the one to speak up.

When I had first started my position there, I tried sitting with my co-workers, but secretly hated it because I knew I didn't fit in. They occasionally made fun of the kids, which I felt defeated the whole purpose of our job.

After hearing statements like, "How hard can kids actually have it? What would be so wrong in a kid's life that they would try to commit suicide? Please, adults, specifically veterans have way more issues and I'd much rather work with them. They have real problems not imaginary ones." I no longer desired the company or friendship of my co-workers.

That specific statement bounced around in my head with disgust as I wondered why they had taken this job working with children in the first place, but I knew the answer: they couldn't get hired where they actually wanted to work. As far as I was concerned, that wasn't the children's fault; it was their own or circumstance. I chose the company of the children we were working with instead of my co-workers because I found it more pleasant. That didn't mean the children didn't notice the appeared "bullying" or exclusion of the remaining staff toward them or myself, even if I tried to hide it from their attention. I was a fool to think otherwise.

"Why don't you sit with them instead of us? I know you're different than the others: you actually care about us, but doesn't it bother you that they don't include you? You could be included if you just treated us like they do." she states observantly.

By Louis Hansel on Unsplash

I'm caught a bit off guard with her statement, but address it nonetheless. Part of me is happy and finds it meaningful that she knows I actually care. The other part of me dislikes that they've noticed the attitude of the remaining staff.

"When I'm at work, I'm here for you kids. What they say and do doesn't matter to me as much as you do."

"But, if it would make your life easier shouldn't you do it? It isn't fun being excluded." she comments.

I answer her with an unintentionally clichรฉ statement "Everyone is different. I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not just to fit in or to make things easier. I'm not going to act a way I do not want to act just to get them to like me. I am who I am." I follow my response up with a question, "Let me ask you, do I get along with you?"

"Well, yes, but wouldn't it be better to get along with adults instead?" she asks.

"It depends on the adults. Why does it have to be a choice? Why can't it be both? Isn't that exclusion?" I respond.

She thinks for a moment, and has nothing to say to that answer. She decides to shrug and change the conversation to a more entertaining topic. It did bother me that the children noticed, but the truth is these situations can happen anywhere and they saw first-hand someone who was handling it. I'm still not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing for the kids.

Regardless, she and I talked about it privately on the way home away from the other kids.

I informed her that I did strive to have a working relationship with my co-workers, but that our views didn't always match up for a good friendship. I pointed out that each of us have different skills to be appreciated and noticed. They could relate to other children I couldn't just as I could relate to those they may not be able to. It is usually good to have diverse people like that in these sorts of positions.

I added that obviously some problems don't go away after high school. Finding people who love you and accept you for who you are are difficult to come by, but they exist. If you change to fit a crowd or please someone else, you'll lose yourself, and also might not find those people. She found my views to be quite unusual compared to other adults she knew and saw. I informed her that I didn't have all the answers, and adults that claim to are worth being wary of. I recommended that she look at the way each adult lives, their level of willingness to listen, and their willingness to accept when they are wrong. Those adults are likely looking out for her best interests. She considered for a moment before asking if I had talked to her grandmother. I had, and told her that she was in better hands than she realized. Like many adults, her grandmother just needed a little guidance.

On her last day of the program, her grandmother was waiting for her at home. Her grandmother had switched her shift with a co-worker, and prepared something small and special to celebrate her granddaughter's completion of our program. The teen rushed to hug her and began excitedly talking to her as soon as she saw her. Her grandmother thanked me and waved politely, and then the teen remembered my presence with an "Oh yeah, thank you! Sorry I just rushed out of your car without thinking! I hope to see you again sometime! I'm glad you live around here! Bye!" and a bright smile. I watched her rattle on in conversation with her grandmother, and smiled widely in return.

By ๐”ฅ๐”ฆ๐”ฉ๐”ฉ๐”ž๐”ฏ๐”ถ ๐”ญ๐”ข๐”ฏ๐”ž๐”ฉ๐”ฑ๐”ž on Unsplash

I could tell their relationship improved. A year or so later, I was working my part-time gig at Sam's Club and the same teen came in with her grandmother. She recognized me immediately, ran to me and gave me a giant hug all while telling me nearly everything that had happened that I had missed in the last year as fast as possible. Her grandmother smiled and ushered her on. That was the last time I saw her.

When I worked records for law enforcement shortly after, I saw many teens and children I had previously encountered at the center show up on our registry. Many of them were specifically drug charge cases. That teen's name never showed up anywhere in our system, and she and her grandmother had no intention of moving elsewhere. The last memory I have of her was a positive one, and left me with both hope and joy. I'll always remember her, just like the other "lost cause kids", but I know I've proved the rest of that team wrong with that specific teen. She was observant, insightful, and hopeful about life. She had more than just potential. She was never the lost cause they thought she was. I can't give up or lose hope. For the sake of every exception, I will proudly remain hopeful because it does make a difference in their lives.

By Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

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E.L. Martin

Powered by Nature, Humanity, Humor, Food, Lifestyle, Fiction, and Culture; Oh, and a questionable amount of coffee.

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