How Middle Taught Me An Invaluable Lesson

This post is also available at my new website Trauma Mama Drama.  If you enjoy reading my blog, remember to update your feeds, emails and bookmarks with the new link, because eventually I will only post updates on the new site's blog.

****************************************
If you've read my previous posts, you know that  Middle and Little experienced chronic early-childhood trauma before they came to live with us. When the judge presiding over Husband's custody hearing awarded him full/sole custody, we expected them to engage in some problematic behavior when they moved in... "But it will get better once they've been here a while," Husband and I said, "All it's going to take is consistency, patience and love." 

I can't even begin to tell you how wrong we were.

Husband and I found ourselves totally unprepared to deal with the needs of my step-children... No one warned us that sustained early-childhood trauma can negatively impact the brain's development. We'd never even heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), and therefore we were completely baffled when they reacted so negatively to our safe and secure environment. And we certainly didn't know about the therapeutic parenting style we would adopt when they resisted our traditional parenting methods (often with screaming and yelling and kicking and spitting...).

I tried my best not to put too much stock into the RAD diagnosis, but eventually, subconsciously, I started automatically attributing any negative or odd behavior to their attachment issues. I lived in near-constant worry that that our love wouldn't be enough, that they wouldn't get better, that all of our valiant efforts would fail miserably... And if I lost my temper and slid back into traditional parenting methods, I would dwell on the most negative thought of all... Maybe their behavior would get worse.

So you can imagine my reaction to Middle when she told me about "The Good and Bad Maps" in her brain that make her "do good/bad things." 

I emailed her mental health counselor immediately... "Is this a sign she is having delusions? Middle's family tree has some mental illness in its branches... Should we look into other diagnoses for her?" 

The therapist asked me to make a note when she brought up "The Maps," but said she wasn't too worried about it... Middle is very artistic, and her therapist thought she was just using visuals to explain how her mind works. 

Middle brought up "The Maps" a handful of times that month, but nothing major. Satisfied that she wasn't experiencing dissociation or mental hallucinations, we let the subject drop, but in April she started going into great detail about people in her brain that made her do bad things. She vividly described their appearance to me and even imitated their voices for me! I sent another alarmed email, but was again advised again to make a note when Middle mentioned the "people in her brain." I complied and tried to play it cool, but I was getting more and more concerned convinced that we were seeing the development of an additional mental health problem.  

She kept talking about multi-colored people that lived in her brain and how they were in control of her thoughts and actions. I grew more and more worried as this discussion continued on and off for a month or so, until one day I heard her squeal, "MOM!!! COME QUICK!!! IT'S THEM!!" 

I raced into the living room to find her excitedly pointing at the television, jumping up and down. "THERE THEY ARE! THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD!"

I could only reply with an embarrassed, "Oh... Okay, I get it."

It was a commercial for Inside Out.

Mystery solved.  

But wait... What about those maps she kept talking about in March?

Turns out, her kindergarten classroom had a giant poster about choosing the right path... The poster included drawings of paths to success and paths to trouble... Paths that Middle called "The Maps" in class.

Poor Middle... She was using her imagination so wonderfully, and there I was, a mother with no higher-level psychology education, trying to shuffle her into another serious diagnosis.

*********

This story's end may be amusing, but I hope it serves as a word of caution against relying too heavily on a diagnosis to understand someone (or even understand yourself).

The power of the RAD diagnosis was so strong that I guess I completely forgot that all young kids say things that sound weird to adults and engage in behavior that we don't understand from our vantage point.  I'm glad I had this realization when I did because I didn't even realize I was seeing her diagnosis instead of her.

Now that I have recognized my faulty thinking, I do my best to avoid falling into that pattern of thinking again, and I'm much happier interacting with my kids diagnosed with RAD.

After all, it's so much easier to laugh at the absurdity of childhood experimentation and logic when I'm not constantly asking myself, "What does this mean?!"