FOURTH ANNIVERSARY LISTS II: ATTACHMENT DISORDERS

Dear Persons,

There are not as many advocates for attachment disorder awareness as there are for the other areas of advocacy I explore, such as adoption, autism, and sensory processing differences. For this reason, I regularly revisit this theme for this one-topic anniversary post.

Over the years, I’ve tended in this blog to focus more on autism awareness and advocacy because our experiences with attachment disorder feel somehow more private, more inflicted. Attachment disorders cause children (and adults) to act in ways that are often unhealthy, even anti-social, all because of negative childhood or early life situations that did not allow them to form healthy attachments, or prematurely severed such connections.  Unlike autism and other neurological differences, typically inborn states that do not fundamentally need to be “cured” (I write a great deal on this elsewhere), attachment disorders are a sometimes incapacitating psychological condition that can benefit from intensive treatment, primarily through therapeutic parenting or work with an experienced therapist.

I share our Full Spectrum family struggles with my daughter Z’s attachment disorder for two reasons. First, because families all or partly formed by adoption or fostering may be facing this condition unawares, and may be desperate for help; and, second, because one of the central reasons we are a Full spectrum is because my children are so divergent – and this is partly because of Z’s attachment disorder. 

I will offer a little background. As you read about my daughter, please do so bearing in mind that her condition was/is not her “fault” – and is therefore nothing to be ashamed of...

When Z came home she was furious - with good reason. She was ultra-demanding, starving, relentless.  As she got older she began to steal, hoard, and lie compulsively. She became controlling - and a master manipulator. Constant power struggles with a tiny person were exhausting for the whole family (including Z!). Her tantrums continued to disrupt almost any environment she found herself in, well into her ninth year.

Her acting out was most overt with me, her mother, because she trusted me the most -- and thus needed to constantly test me. Highly challenging attachment-disordered behaviors may well be reserved for the home environment, or particular individuals, such as a parent or teacher.

While she was small of stature, adorable, and enormously charming – traits which her therapist pointed out were actually a disadvantage to healing, because they masked the ugliness of her behavior – Z’s behavior much of the time was destructive in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

If you have a child who is exhibiting such behaviors, GET HELP. Trust me, you’re going to need to learn to do things very differently than you might expect! For example, many families with children who were adopted attempt to make up for any pain caused by the loss and turmoil of the adoption process by being indulgent and extra-doting with their children. Conceding to a child’s every demand, even with loving intent, can be a recipe for disaster with a child who has an attachment disorder. Look for a therapist with expertise in this area, and read everything you can find. I’ve talked about some specific strategies here and here and here, as well as below.

Children (and adults) with attachment disorders desperately need to feel SAFE. To that end, they try to control the things and people around them.  It might sound counterintuitive, but – in a very real way – such attachment disordered behaviors emerge in a painful search for safe, strong attachments. Unfortunately, attachment disordered actions tend to result in forming primarily conflict- and need-based relationships, rather than healthy, loving ones.

TMI? Successful therapeutic parenting in one sentence? Yes:

Create an environment with

CLEAR and

CONSISTENT

RULES and

BOUNDARIES

          so that your child can feel safe

-- and so can channel his or her energy into healing and growth.

As unknown as they are, attachment disorders are very real. They can be debilitating for families; they are also sometimes almost completely curable. In our family, many years of consistent therapeutic parenting, at times under the care of a therapist who specializes in attachment disorders, have resulted in a child who is light years healthier and happier than she would have been without this specific mode of therapy.

As Z heals, her true character – brave, loyal, funny, quick, loving - begins to emerge, unhindered by a condition imposed upon her by chance through her birth circumstances. She’s strong, in her own words, “Tiny on the outside but HUGE on the inside!” She’s a wonderfully practical girl, sometimes a bit more blunt than she was raised to be...but these things are characterological, part of her disposition, not just a result of trauma. In fact, we see a myriad of traits, such as being an astute judge of character, that merge positive aspects of her natural self with lessons learned from living through an attachment disorder. Perhaps best of all, while she’s never going to be the world’s most sentimental person, she’s cuddly in a way I could not have dreamed of even a few years ago.  

She feels safe enough to relax in my arms...versus her previous inclination to demand that I carry her around at all times. The wonderfulness of this shift cannot be overestimated.

Children are terrifically resilient and, like plants, they just want to GROW. They just need the right conditions to do so in the healthiest way possible for their unique needs.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

WHAT IS PROGRESS?

I read a lot (a LOT) of posts – whether in adoption communities or neurodiverse ones - about how people’s children are “making progress.” Progress with sensory differences is one major theme, and uplifting, inspirational posts can be found in abundance. I find a lot of news around “progress” with a range of challenges in autism as well.  Since I tend to only follow writers who start with the basic assumption of accepting their diverse selves (and the diversity of their children) unconditionally, as they are, I typically enjoy such posts, and think they give us all hope.

I've read and learned a lotlotlot about adoption and attachment disorders, too; and I'm grateful to have done so since it felt like we were desperate and failing as a family until we gained some context and strategies for my daughter's behaviors. For Z, who was adopted and has struggled with an attachment disorder, progress means healing - gradually - enough to let go of attachment disordered feelings (distrust, panic), and the habits and actions that come with those feelings. Progress, in Z's part of the Full Spectrum, is a unilaterally good and necessary thing. 

I think a lot (a LOT LOT) about how much I do for my son, who is on the autism spectrum and has motor and executive function challenges, compounded by raging teen hormone fog (that’s a medical term). I wonder how much my “help” is actually enabling him -- in a codependent, non-helpful way -- to not learn how to do things, take responsibilities, etc. I try to remember that, but for safety concerns, it’s generally best for him to learn to take responsibility for himself and do his own stuff (dishes, cleaning, “organizing”...) even though he may actually make a much bigger mess doing so...

He’ll never learn to live even partially on his own if I keep waiting on him hand and foot – something I do basically because it’s easier for me. As G takes on more day-to-day tasks, that is PROGRESS – and it’s a good thing.

He’s also made huge strides socially, verbally, in athletics...His momentum in all these areas is a testament to his hard work and efforts.

As a neurodiverse adult, however, I sometimes question a narrow view of the necessity and function of progress. I also I see myself making so much less “progress” than my son does…

Big breath.

I wonder if, for me, it’s at this point more about acceptance, whereas for him he’s still growing so, so much.  While his presence during this period of great growth certainly benefits those around him in increased awareness and good company, it’s primarily about him. Teaching people is not his job, being his best G is his job.

My job, as his mother, is to help him become the most content, competent person he can be, while respecting his unique wonderfulness. I would also like him to “progress” in self-advocacy: both in learning what he needs to succeed socially, academically, and so forth, and in being able to express those needs in order to grow into who he wants to be. In any case, much as he has never, ever been interested in even the slightest efforts at “passing,” he wins most people over with his exuberance and huge heart and humor.

Me, I’m still growing inside to some extent, but my PROGRESS is really more about learning about neurodiversity and spreading that awareness, as well as advocacy in general -- and for my son and me.

In images, I think it might go something like so:

Figure I – Progress for G and Z

Figure II – Progress for Mama

Like so many phenomena, progress may be viewed as a Spectrum: for my daughter, it's a straightforward positive; for my son and me, it's more complicated. We need to make sure that our attempts at progress are in line with our inclusive values, rather than succumbing to the biased standards of a neurotypically-inclined mainstream. Ideally, my efforts at public advocacy, along with those of others in this blog hop and beyond, expand the possibilities for defining -- and celebrating  -- our own progress, goals, and selves.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

THANKS, MOM/THANKS, SON!

This was written for the “I Don’t Need a Cure Autism Flash Blog.” 

For those who “tweet,” please use these hashtags throughout the day on 4/2:

#idontneedacure, #WAAD

Here is a true story that illustrates how I am trying to raise my son to accept himself just as he is, and to make his own choices about how he might want to grow as a person. I was particularly moved to join the “I Don’t Need a Cure” gang because of having used these very words to my son (before hearing about the blog) just a few weeks ago:

My son G and I were hiking up a local, kid-friendly mountain with the rest of the Full Spectrums -- my Pardner and Z, my daughter. I noticed G’s extremely rosy red cheeks and I knew he was feeling drained.

I remembered having those same red cheeks. I remembered how, as a child, everything seemed harder for me – not just the social stuff (!), but physical stuff like biking or running. I would get very red and work very hard when other people just coasted along or put in a reasonable (non-grueling, -agonizing) effort...

I would try to tell grown-ups how hard I was trying, but they thought I was lazy or out of shape. I had what I now know was low muscle tone, and sensory processing differences that made it super-challenging for me to follow team play. I know it NOW because MY normal course of development resulted in higher, more “normal” muscle tone later in life, and I am now able to see very clearly that I truly was experiencing challenges on a different level than others. I think I am generally a “fit” person now, though team sports have remained out of my purview (perhaps that can be attributed to a complete lack of interest on my part).

I know many activities feel harder to my son than they do to most. While my nine-year old daughter virtually runs up the mountain without breaking a sweat, my 13 year-old son is as red as a beet, even though his general levels of fitness and activity are basically the same.

Perhaps the hardest thing for me as a child was feeling misunderstood. I’ve always accepted difference, even (mostly) in myself, but I’ve never been able to learn to countenance injustice. So I wanted to validate G’s experience, and help him feel understood, in part by sharing with him how he is “sometimes a lot like me as a kid.”

I told him that “Everything was harder for me, when I used to go on family bike rides or runs, or when – this was the worst! – my family would make me join in soccer games.”

I remembered how agonizing those times were – how exhausted I would be, how misunderstood and alien I would feel because I didn’t enjoy the “enjoyable” activities my family shared, and because I felt like they judged me for how I felt, both physically and emotionally…

“I would get super red cheeks, just like you do! I was kinda soft, and floppier and ganglier than I am now. I got stronger and stronger as I grew up. I think you will too.

“Growing up is a process, and everybody does it in their own way. I suspect that for you, like for me, it’ll take a little bit longer for some parts of your brain and body to get in their best shape.”

I explained that my red cheeks and difficulty keeping up came from low muscle tone, a physical difference sometimes associated with neurological differences that made all my muscles have to work harder. I added that it was tough for me growing up neurodivergent in a way that I don’t think it is for him because the people around him and understand and completely, unconditionally accept him.

I thought about how watching my child encounter similar experiences in a very different context has been healing for me, and how grateful I am to be able to show him some aspects of life as a happy, healthy, self-accepting (all relative terms of course!) neurodiverse adult.

We walked a little further in silence.

“Thanks for giving me asperger’s and low tone, mom,” he said, sounding sarcastic and resigned.

I took a deep breath. “Buddy…don’t you like me? Because I like myself. And I like you too – a lot! It’s not that I want you to be just like me, you are absolutely your own person. But the things that make me a little bit different make me who I am and it’s the same for you. You’ll grow up at your own pace.”

“Of course I like you, Mom,” he replied. “But I want to be strong.”

“If that’s what YOU want, you’ll have to work hard to be strong, maybe harder than other people. But you’ll get there,” I assured him. “I promise. You can do anything you set your mind to!

“And once you do get strong, you will never forget how it felt to try that hard and succeed. You’ll always feel compassion for people who are having a hard time and accept and understand people who are different. Those are really good things!

“I like us both just the way we are. We can grow, when we want to. We don’t need to be cured.”

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama