Turning a corner

I have had this in my mind for a few weeks. You know when you are driving on the highway in rush hour, and you think to yourself, Self, you did a great job of planning your drive for today because there is no traffic! The Traffic Grand Poo Bahs strike mightily and they strike quickly, and you may as well slam on the brakes before your brain is done with the thought because around that corner is a 10 mile back up for one car with a flat tire.
So I have been flipping and I have been flopping as to what I would write and when. I don't need to give any more material to the Grande PooBahs of Unnecessary Fits, Tantrums and Meltdowns . Anyway.
A little over a month ago I wrote about Genea being able to walk into her room when she felt a big cry coming on. She was able to shut the door, had a fit for a few minutes, then came back out. For her, this is walking up Mount Everest without any shoes. The first time it happened I actually went after her to ask her what the heck she was doing. We have spent more than a year living with this cry, telling her over and over to go ahead and let it out! Just let it out behind a closed door so the rest of us can function and come out when you are done. And she did it. And now she has done it several more times. And there are some other changes too. And even though there is a huge risk of angering the Grande Poo Bahs I more strongly feel like I should write this down, so that when there is a regression I will have my own written proof that we were at this point, therefore will get to it again. We are finally to the point of taking only 1 step back for every 2 steps forward.
The controlling and manipulating are less. The incessant demands for constant unwavering immediate attention are much less. The crying is way down and the duration is less. Disproportionate meltdowns are less. Hyper behavior is way down. Hypervigilance is the same. Coughing and drinking are the same but much better than in the past. Knockdown tantrums are less than once a day.
Genea fell apart yesterday crying. Her teacher had the kids make little gingerbread houses out of old milk cartons and graham crackers. Clearly not meant to withstand a tornado, she was carrying it and it started to come undone and she tried to save it and crushed it in the process. And she was sad, and she cried. She came to me and I met her in the kitchen and hugged. I patted her head and told her I know how much she loved that little gingerbread house. We will miss it but we will also have many more fun things to make tomorrow. And she was ok. I think, and I would be crossing my fingers but cannot type that way, we just may have turned a corner.