The Bloggy Bit
I cringe when people say, “You’d never know your daughter has Autism”. Some days I wish our lives weren’t impacted by Autism at all. Some days I wish her Autism was more obvious. I know that sounds crazy, but it is true. If her disability impaired her more regularly, more consistently, in more severe ways, I feel our home would have more predictability.
Fear, like all emotions, has a very real and important purpose. It tells us when to be on guard. It encourages us to protect ourselves. It keeps us alive in very real situations of danger. But there’s another element of fear that can be particularly challenging for our intensely creative minds and kids.
I don’t know when we all learned not to trust our own parental instincts, but it seems like we are often still searching for some outside authority to direct our understanding of our children and tell us what to do with them. It doesn’t really matter where it comes from, so long as we start to challenge the impulse. Yes, we need to listen to other people and refer to people who are more knowledgeable in certain areas than we are. But, we also need to trust our intuitions and instincts a bit more avidly.
I know my family and friends are there and would do anything to help, but I didn’t even know what would be helpful to ask for. And until my friend intuitively showed me, I couldn’t put words to what I needed. So, lets use Rachel’s beautiful examples to highlight what we, as fringy parents, would find helpful in the midst of a meltdown.
It becomes so easy to get wrapped up in how difficult this life is for me, for my husband, for my boys. It becomes so easy to get caught up in the financial difficulties, the physical difficulties, the emotional strain. It becomes so easy to forget that my difficulties pale in comparison to the difficulties of my baby girl.
Meltdowns. My daughter experiences them. Correction. My family experiences them. And it is quite apt that the terminology we use to describe her behavior at those moments evokes images of nuclear holocaust, explosions, panic. I am not a nuclear physicist, so forgive my simplicity, but when nuclear plants experience a meltdown, they have the potential of emitting radioactive gases into the environment around them. It harmfully affects anyone and anything that’s nearby. This, too, makes the labeling of my daughter’s meltdowns appropriate.
Our entire family experiences her meltdowns. We have all been hit and bitten during these meltdowns. We have all been the target of venomous hate-filled words. We all must react and respond immediately when meltdown occurs. It’s as if the radioactive messiness of her overwhelm has been emitted throughout our home and seeped into the walls.
And just like those working in and living near nuclear plants, we all maintain a watchful lookout for signs that a meltdown may be forthcoming. All 5 of us have our own mental safety and security checklists that we run through daily in an effort to prevent a meltdown from occurring.
Meltdowns have drastically impacted our entire Fringy Family in a lot of unhelpful ways. And, in full honesty, I would gladly live our life without them. It hurts to see KBear so out of control and in pain. It hurts to see Chimp afraid of his big sister. It hurts to see Cub assaulted when he has the most tender soul I’ve had the honor of knowing. It hurts to be hurt by my own daughter and it hurts to hear her verbally assault my husband. There are a lot of downsides to this Fringy life.
And then a night like last night happens.
I was solo parenting and putting the kiddos to bed. KBear was definitely in the danger zone. I was reading to Chimp when suddenly KBear completely flipped, started tearing things off his door, throwing things at his door, shouting threats, calling me by my first name (a sure sign that she’s in full meltdown), and generally melting down. She had already shown that she was not going to be cooperative with attempts to reset, Chimp and I were locked in his room, Cub was locked in his room, so I took the approach to let it run its course while comforting Chimp.
When she managed to break into Cub’s room, I could no longer let it run its course. I directed Chimp to stay in his room and went out to the hallway. Cub was successfully pinning KBear to the ground in a safe and non-violent hold that he had learned at Aikido. She was not being hurt, but had he let go, she would definitely have hurt him or me. Despite the fact that KBear was writhing and trying to bite him and screaming mean things, Cub saw through the behavior. He maintained his safety by keeping her pinned, but he also was saying calm, compassionate, loving words to his sister. He had a calm and assured energy about himself and was trying to help his sister attain that same feeling of peace.
I took over the hold. Kept taking deep breathes and we simply sat with her until she became calmer. When she was safe enough to let her go, she was still in the danger zone and agitated, but not assaultive. At that point, Chimp quietly, calmly, and slowly came out from his room. He held a favorite funny toy of KBear’s. He quietly set it in front of her, said “I love you” in a quiet voice and simply sat down by my side. Far enough away from the potential threat of KBear, but close enough to share his own compassion for his sister.
Within a couple of minutes, the meltdown had passed. KBear was calm and exhausted. The 4 of us sat together sharing quiet jokes and then headed back to our typical bedtime routine.
Several years ago, shortly after KBear had been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder and epilepsy, a friend of mine had asked me how it was going. Then she said, “It must be really tough. But, I’ve got to say, I’ve always admired families with a child with special needs. They have a closeness to them that is different than more typical families. They have a bond and a strength and a sense of teamwork that I envy.”
At the time, I thought, “Well, you’re welcome to swap families if you’d like!” And there are still many, many moments when I would gladly trade it all in for just an afternoon of typical family fun.
But, then there are the moments like last night. When I looked around at my 3 children and was overflowing with pride. I was amazed at the intuition of my 4 year old and the loving gentleness he could show his sister who mere moments earlier had been threatening to hurt him. I overflowed with admiration for my 11 year old who has the maturity, steadiness, compassion, and wisdom of someone far older than him. I was proud of my own growth through the past few years as my own reactions to the meltdowns have become steadier. And I was inspired by my daughter, who just keeps persevering.
So, sure. I would still LOVE to experience a meltdown free week. But, there are indeed some upsides to the downside.
