I have a child with behavior problems.
I've been hesitant to share anything about it "publicly", although I've alluded to it at times in Instagram posts, because I don't want to make myself out to be a victim, and complain publicly about my own child. But in my entire life, I have never experienced something as isolating as the life we've been living for the past couple of years.
It's become increasingly clear to me that we live in a world where (possibly because we've come to see children as somewhat of an accessory, or an upgrade to the next adult-y phase of life) if our children succeed, or are "good" it is a reflection of our "goodness" as parents. If our children struggle, sin, or are less than perfect, it s a reflection that we have somehow failed as parents.
I can't even begin to say how many moments over the course of the past three years I've felt like a failure. I would wager that I feel like a failure every single day.
My child hasn't been formally diagnosed yet, but our doctor thinks it is probably a combination of ADHD and ODD. He is a sweet boy. He is fun, and funny, and loving and creative. He is polite and friendly to strangers, outgoing and inquisitive and full of energy.
But there is another side of him that comes out when his frustration hits a high that is completely unlike anything I imagined dealing with as a mom.
When you think about becoming a parent, you just don't even picture the possibility of your child having violent tantrums, telling you repeatedly that he hates you, that you aren't his mom, that he has never cared about you...hitting and kicking and spitting in your face. Children are so innocent? How would a 5 year old even learn those behaviors?
What kind of parent lets those kinds of behaviors rule their homes?
Shouldn't consistency, and good positive discipline fix these problems?
Meanwhile, I can barely even remember isolated incidents of me having to physically restrain my own kid to keep him from hurting me, or a sibling. I can't remember specific incidents, because it has happened so many times. I just have this blurry memory in my mind of all of those moments blended together... of my other children watching me from the safety of another room while I attempt to reason with/ calm down/ physically restrain my screaming and flailing child without getting headbutted in the face again. Thinking...how the heck did we get here?
Where did my mothering go so horribly wrong?
The depth of my identity crisis knows know bounds. This is not the kind of mother I thought I'd be. It isn't the kind of family life I dreamed we'd have. I used to be patient, and compassionate, and calm didn't I? I always thought so. But I feel as though I'm being proven wrong every single day. Am I really this person?
He does mostly well in school. Compared to what I was picturing in my head before he started Kindergarten, the few incidents he has had haven't been all that bad, and for the most part there aren't any problems. I am so glad for that. Except for the fact that it makes it even more difficult to find support, or commiseration, or to even talk to other people about what we are going through, because the worst of it is happening behind the closed doors of our house, with no one here to witness it but me.
He is so polite in public (mostly), to other parents from school, and to teachers, and so friendly. Who is going to believe me that the second he got into the car and heard that we weren't going to the park today he started telling me repeatedly that he hates me and slaps his sister?
One counselor that we saw briefly, and will hopefully never ever see again, did his darndest to dash even the little bit of positivity I tried to have about my son's behavior. When I told this doctor that he does well in school and that his behaviors present mostly at home, he assured me that "oh, the time is coming. This WILL come out at school...he will start to get into trouble, and things will just get worse and worse. It's only a matter of time."
Oh. Wonderful. Thank you for your encouragement. After fifteen minutes with this doctor, he asked if I was ready to start my son on medication. Needless to say, we won't be seeing that guy again.
I'm writing this on the heels of my husband being out of town overnight, and having a very hard 36 hours with my son. I couldn't even begin to count the number of times just in the past day that I've heard how horrible I am, and how much my kid hates me. The fights I've broken up between my son and daughter, who I feel I am also failing with my inability to keep her safe and to reign in her very familiar looking behaviors, are either an indication that she has picked up too many bad habits from her brother, or that she is headed down the same path.
It's just too much. I am terrified that if I share this, I will be judged for not doing x,y,z....or that I will be given the same trite pieces of advice that I feel I hear over and over again. Yes we've tried behavior charts (he doesn't care). He also doesn't care (nor will he actually participate in), time outs, or being "told that a certain behavior is not acceptable." He cannot be reasoned with. I'm sure there are a bazillion special diets we could put him on that might help in some way, but honestly...I am so tired and emotionally spent by all of this, the idea of revamping my entire families diet by going gluten free is just one thing too many for me to handle. I'm afraid someone will look at my situation and question why we are having another baby, when clearly we are failing so miserably at meeting this very pressing need of a child that we already have.
I am desperate for an answer, but I don't want any more advice. I am mortified, and want us all to just curl up in our house and never have anyone know what we are going through, but I also am SO desperate to have someone in my life say "Me too." Because, thus far, no one has said it. I don't know how to meet other parents whose children are struggling this way. Doesn't everyone just want to present a happy face and make everything look fine to the people around them? I'm sure I've gotten pretty good at it.
The internet has glimmers of hope for me. Penny Williams podcast "The ADHD parenting podcast" was the first time I felt like someone really knew the situation and understood. I would urge anyone who is helping to care for a child with ADHD or other similar disorders to check it out.
I don't want this post to sound like it's all about me, although sometimes, when I am feeling so heartbroken as I am now, it is very easy to focus in on my own struggles. I know that the person is who truly struggling the most here is my son.
Today at the park he bumped his lip, and came to me for help. He was trying not to cry, and he buried his head in my shoulder, sniffling. I have to be honest, my heart leapt for joy for just a second. Here he was hurt, coming to me for comfort. Could there be a more natural mother-child interaction? I was so happy that he had come to me. But when I asked him if I could see the hurt, he pushed me and scowled at me to "get away!." He tried a few more times to lean into me, and then ended up getting angry with me for trying to comfort him. He was so conflicted... he just didn't know what to do with his feelings at all. I'm crying even as I type all that. It seems like such a small thing.
But every small thing that happens just feels so monumental when they all stack up together.
I don't know if I will share this blog post with anyone. I know that no one will just stumble across it. But I'm writing it because no one has told me that we aren't alone in this. That we aren't the only ones experiencing this kind of trial with one of our kids. I am imagining (selfishly, maybe even hoping) that there is someone else out there who might need to hear these words, or even just hear about someone else's experience so that they can know they aren't alone. Some mom sitting somewhere, feeling so lonely, whose at the beginning of this journey and has no idea what the heck she's supposed to do. Who doesn't need to hear about medication options, or discipline tactics, or therapies, or or or... but needs to hear someone say "your kid is good. All is not lost. You're doing the best you can, and it can be enough for now."
I need to hear it, so I'm telling it to myself. And I'm telling it to you.
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