I always loved this song by Bill Withers, I used to sing it all the time when I was a little girl, yet I never thought it would one day pertain to my son.
Eight years ago, my son was struggling with his ADHD and unbeknown to anyone at the time, he was also living with PTSD and anxiety. Having these diagnoses and the symptoms that go with these disorders it felt like the world was stacked against him. Other children didn’t understand his quirkiness and the children would tease him and bully him every day. Teachers avoided him and brushed him off. These adults in his life were no better than the kids that bullied him. My son was taller than most his age and many adults would expect him to act older than he was, and this made things even harder for my son because he was mentally not a match for his biological age, let alone an age above his.
My heart would break because I knew my son was sorely misunderstood, and his behavior was hard to be around at time. The issue at this time in my son’s life was not that he was disrespectful nor was he disruptive. In fact, he was the opposite of that behavior. However, he was unfocused and would repeat himself when talking to get his point across. I know now this was his anxiety and his autism that was causing him to say something more than two or three times while talking. My son couldn’t focus easily at this time so, while the other kids were running down the field with the football he was jumping on the sideline or rolling across the field from the side into the playing grid. This caused the kids to become frustrated with him as well as the coaches. His father would become annoyed and yell at him and embarrass him in front of the other children which would cause the kids to laugh at my son. His world was spiraling, and he didn’t understand why this was or how to stop it, and I would ache while I watched it all unravel before my eyes.
I used to talk to him before each practice and game and remind him to stay close to the coaches and listen to what they were saying. I would also coach him to watch how the other kids play the game and then try to do the same thing. He would always look at me with his beautiful bright eyes and say, “Okay, I know.” And then …. He would start jumping up and down and rolling on the field. At this point, I thought, “maybe football isn’t for him.” Maybe we need to try another sport. And so, we would finish the season and move on to something new.
My son excelled in soccer, soccer was great! He ran, it was fast-paced, he was kicking and could jump while he kicked. He was praised for how well he did, and I thought… Thank you, Jesus, we found his sport. The season ended and he told me he didn’t want to play anymore. He never played again. We tried baseball, but while he was in the outfield waiting for a ball, that took to long to come his way, he would lose focus and it never failed, as soon as my son started to look for dandelions to pick for me, or saw a leaf blow past him, he would bend to pick the flower or swat the leaf with his foot and the ball would come and he would miss it. The kids and coaches would be screaming, and he would bow his head in embarrassment, and I’d see his self-esteem shrinking even more than it was already. Each year, when fall came around, he would beg to be part of the football game. I never understood this, he was never accepted by the other teammates. He was bullied on the sidelines, he was never used in the games even when he was older and could focus much better. Yet, each year there I was painfully watching him struggle on the sideline to fit in with the kids.
As he grew older things changed in our world. I would hear of other kids with ADHD who were very disrespectful as little kids and as they grew older they became calmer and coming into “their own”, yet my child went from a kind. respectful, obedient kid to a pre-teen who was now having meltdowns, becoming disrespectful and most definitely showing signs of defiance and out-of-control hyperactivity. He was getting in trouble in school and not learning lessons.
I was repeatedly told over the next 5 years that I needed to be harder on him. I needed to give consequences that would stick. I handed out one punishment after another, hoping that one day something would stick with this kid. I would take his phone, ground him from going outside, take away his x-box, one day at 16 years and 10 months into his life I sold his car and stripped his room hoping this would be so hard and uncomfortable that he’d figure out how to change. Yet, it did nothing but make him angrier and more defiant. I was stuck I was lost, I had no idea who to get through to him. I tried “tough love” and turned my back when he was screaming in my face. And this too did nothing. He was always remorseful. He would be full of apologies afterward. And, I would discuss this with family, friends, and his therapist and I was always told…. He needs consequences. WHAT THE HELL COULD I DO THAT I HAVEN’T DONE??? My gut always told me all of this was the wrong way to go.
My gut told me, he needs love, he needs a safe place, and he needs to know I am the place he can act out and not be judged. My heart told me the same. My brain was saying, others are right, you need the upper hand and a tough stance. Yet, I knew he was turned away from so many, his father included, that when all the other adults and kids were turning their backs on my child, I had to be that one person he knew he had who would not turn away but would “lean-in”. I knew my son, and even at his worst of times, he needed one person he could trust, and that one person was me. This isn’t easy, especially when your older child is now screaming at you and having meltdowns, he never had at 6 or 7. Here he is at 16 and 17 having meltdowns and tantrums. Many days I doubted whether I could weather the storms he rolled in. There were days I failed. And, I lived with guilt when I did.
I am learning as we go along, but I will say this, through research I have learned a lot about those who live with high functioning autism, ADHD, anxiety, and depression as my son does every day. I have also learned the experts don’t always have the answers. Some people are not text-book study cases. My son is one who is not. He does not fit the typical symptoms of each of his diagnosis he has been labeled with, yet I see touches of each within him depending on the day and time. And, I have also learned to trust myself and parent him the best way I know how, by loving him. This was a tough lesson learned.
By allowing the choir of experts (teachers, school case managers, his many therapists, family, friends, psychiatrists etc.) to conduct my every move I realized I was no longer the parent, this is how I lost control. I learned this when I took their advice and began to push back against my son. He couldn’t bear the punishment of me shunning him, I found out after I tried, and he freaked out and ran away. It was after he returned home that he told me, he always thought I was the one person who would never abandon him and then he felt I did.
My son is far from perfect. He lies, he vapes and has meltdowns, but mostly he is a loving, good-hearted, kind young man. He is pleasant to be around (unless he feels threatened), he is making new friends, tackling schoolwork like a champ the past three years, and is trying to learn responsibility. The latter has been hard. There are times this all feels unmanageable but mostly it is manageable – like relatively “normal” parenting of a growing “teenage boy”.
Somewhere in my journey of parenting a child with anxiety, depression, PTSD, autism, and ADHD and becoming my own expert in the field of parenting a child with all of these diagnosis, I think I am doing okay. I am optimistic that eventually, I will see my “troubled” teen come into his own and grow to be an amazing, productive, loving adult who will make a positive difference in the world.
In the meantime, while I await this day to come . . .
Keep Sparkling ~
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