The Dark Cloud Within

I have gaps in my memory.  When people share memories of their childhood, high school and university days, I cannot relate.  Truth is I was so hyper focused on my thoughts that I couldn’t simply enjoy the moment.  I was preoccupied by the discomfort in my body, rigidity, an inability to relax.   I could hear myself breathe, the loudness of my footsteps when I walked into a room, the squeak of my voice when I spoke aloud.  I used to laugh inappropriately or not respond at all.  While speaking with people, I would become preoccupied with worry about what they were thinking of me.  

I do remember an assignment in university that required I present to my class.  The previous year  I opted out of a public speaking class, due to fear of standing in front of people and having to string together intelligent thoughts.  And then there I was… I had to do a presentation with no public speaking class to ready me.   And so, I prepared, I spoke and then I returned to my university apartment and cried my heart out because I felt it went so poorly.  Then, the next day a few classmates congratulated me on my presentation.   So, obviously, my perception was not in line with reality.  And, I received a reasonable grade.  And so this was the cycle, become overwhelmed by a task, perform the task and then cry and be exhausted afterwards.  That was university life for me.  Unless I could avoid the task altogether. 

There were nights when sleep would evade me.   My skins would crawl, the covers not comfortable, the pillows not full enough, or too full.  Even though I was physically exhausted, my mind would not stop racing.  Mornings were full of paralyzing fatigue.   

And this was life for me.  I couldn’t figure out how other people managed to simply be.  Were other people plagued with thoughts of self-doubt? 

When I was ten years old my family physician told my mother that I was high-strung.  I was very offended by his description of me.  What did that mean?  “High-strung”?  No help was offered.  My mother’s concerns were shrugged off.  Meanwhile, I struggled socially.  I had friends, but never felt like I fit.

 I was always most comfortable at home, or funny enough, on stage performing.  However, I never fulfilled my dream of becoming a performer because although on stage I felt the most relaxed and confident; the thought of auditioning was too frightening.   But, oh, when I sang, when I acted, I felt so powerful. 

And so it held me back…this dark cloud within me.  Invisible to those around me, but always in my way.   I still have days where I need to break away from the world around me and seek solace in solitude.  But now I just consider myself a “social introvert”.    It had to come to a head before I sought treatment, but now I feel comfortable in my skin…for the most part.  Imagine what I could have done if I had the tools to clear the dark cloud when I was a child.  But it was my journey.  By sharing my struggle, which I typically keep within a circle of very close friends and family, I hope people with find the courage to ask for help, either for them or for their children.  There is no such thing as suffering in silence, for in my head, it was very loud. 

The Quirks!

We all know someone who we would describe as quirky.  And we all have little quirks and habits that are part of our personality.  As long as those quirks aren’t being done in an effort to manage underlying anxieties and do not disrupt everyday life for the person and those around him then it is usually not an issue.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, Quirky is an adjective used to describe peculiar or unexpected traits.  Sometimes when a child presents in ways that are unexpected it can cause discomfort for both the child and the people around him.   We expect people to behave according to the norms of our society.   My goal as a parent is to ensure my son can manage as successfully as possible within these social norms and to be aware of how others might react to him should he behave in an unexpected way. 

For example, our son has a favorite blanky, which happens to be pink.  He takes it everywhere, including school.  It lives in his back pack while he is in class, however will often come out during the after school program.  It is a source of comfort for him.  Some children have noticed the blanky.   I explained to him that for a child his age it is unexpected that he takes his blanky to school and other children might ask questions about the blanky.  He was fine with this and chose to continue bringing his blanky to school. 

Some behaviours however interfere with completing school work or interacting with other children during play.  For example, our son used to hold his hands up as if comparing his palms and then shake his hands out.  It was odd and noticed by other children who would ask why he was doing it.  It also interfered with writing time because he would need to put his pencil down and his focus was interrupted.  After we ruled out a physical issue with his hands, we ignored the behaviour in hopes it would cease.  The behaviour did stop, however was replaced by another equally odd behaviour.  There was obviously a purpose to these behaviours.  Our son had developed these as a means of coping in times of discomfort or overstimulation.

So, we needed to do three things:  educate our son on what are expected and unexpected behaviours; offer more socially acceptable and less noticeable ways of dealing with anxiety; and educate the adults (including ourselves) who interact with him on a regular basis on how to best support him.  It has been a process, a process which still continues.  Some quirks will remain and new ones will develop.  The key is not to change our son, but to offer him the tools he needs to self-monitor and be able to ask for help when he needs it.

Observations On An Elevator

A little boy and his father were travelling on the same elevator as me the other day.  The father was telling his son to stop yelling.  I assumed the child was not behaving and his father was correcting him. When I looked over however I realized that wasn’t the case.

The father was holding onto his son and the little boy was struggling in his father’s grip.  When the child protested, the father would grab him in what I am sure was meant as a playful hug.   The child would yell.  The father would laugh.  The father would stop…the child would relax…the father would start up again.  In the matter of a minute, I witnessed the child cry, yell, laugh, hit and kick.  It was obvious to me that the child was overstimulated and uncomfortable with his father’s attention.   The father however did not heed the child’s repeated requests to stop holding on to him. 

I never understood why adults feel the need to interact with children in this way.   As a parent, I see it as my responsibility to empower our son to speak up when he is feeling uncomfortable.   I also want him to feel in control of his personal space.  

I don’t laugh it off when an adult is playing with my son and he cries out asking them to stop.  I tell the adult to stop and explain to them that he is uncomfortable.  If they don’t like it, too bad.   I used to make excuses for our son.  “He is sensitive to touch.”  “He has sensory processing difficulties.”  But seriously, shouldn’t adults be able to notice when what they think is play is not comfortable for the child?  And if they don’t, well then it is my job as a parent to ensure that my child’s voice is heard and that he is not put in a situation where he is uncomfortable. 

School...here we go again!

You know those ads where parents are celebrating school going back in?  I wish that was how I felt about school going back in.  Truth is I dread school going back in.  It isn’t making lunches or early mornings that I dread.  It is my son’s anticipated response that causes this momma anxiety. 

So, how do we best support children who have anxieties about returning to school?  It is first important to understand the source of their anxiety.   When talking about returning to school, our son started crying in the back seat of my car.   I asked him what was wrong.  He talked.  I listened.  Most importantly, I didn’t downplay his feelings.   

Once we figured out his main concerns, I asked our son what he thought could help.  Kids are very creative and can often come up with their own solutions with a bit of guidance. 

Before the school year starts, it is helpful to connect with your child’s teacher and support staff.   Schedule a time to go in with your child before the first day of school so that he can re-familiarize himself with the school, meet his new teacher, see where he will sit and hang his coat.  This small step can reduce the anxiety of the first day back to school. 

If your child requires adaptations in the classroom, it is important to have a plan in place before the school year begins.  Get in touch with your school.  Set up a meeting with the teacher(s), principal and resource teacher.  You need to advocate for your child’s needs. 

And on that first day of the new school year, don’t overdo it.  Parents make such a big deal of the first day back to school.   The main priority in my house is getting him through those school doors feeling as comfortable as possible.  If I don’t get a good picture that morning or he chooses not to wear his new outfit, how important is it in the long run?

I Told My Son to Shut Up!!!

Driving home from running errands, about five minutes from our destination, my son starts complaining that his hands are sticky.  I explain to him, calmly that I don’t have anything to wipe his hands however that we are almost home and we will wash his hands as soon as we get there.  Most people can manage the discomfort of sticky hands, but that day my son had met his threshold for sensory input.  So, in retrospect, the stickiness of his hands probably felt like he had them in a vat of syrup.   

Out came the tools we learned at Occupational Therapy.  “How big is this problem” I asked calmly.  Too late, he was beyond thinking the problem through.   On and on and on he went.  And then, I lost my calm said “Shut-up!”   My son replied, “No, you shut-up!”  Oh boy…

And so, once we arrived home and washed his hands…three times…I apologized and explained calmly to him that Mommy was trying to drive and it was distracting to Mommy when he was having a tantrum in the back seat.  I also promised myself that I would put some wipes in the car!

Then, I called my girlfriend and told her of my awful parenting moment.  She laughed.  She assured me that telling my son to shut-up in a frustrating parenting moment didn’t make me Monster Mommy. 

You see the problem is that I had this vision of myself as a mother before our son was born.  And, what my son would be like for that matter.  Well…reality is not in line with the dream.   But, I have learned that perhaps my son doesn’t need the mother I thought I would be, but rather the mother I am.  Even if I do tell him to “shut-up” sometimes.