Some days… let’s just say some days are harder and heavier for my son, Parker, than others. And on those days, I feel so helpless as a parent. I think that there is no way that things could get any worse with my son’s behavioral issues, and low and behold, I am proven wrong. While Parker has had many rough days since I initially drafted this post, the day I’m about to describe was a day in early February, before all this COVID-19 shelter-in-place shit went down.
The day started off just like any other Sunday. Parker and I woke up, I made myself a cup of coffee, and started to do some of the dishes since the dishwasher was on the fritz again. After I finished dishes, I made breakfast – waffles with homemade whipped cream and fresh strawberries. Parker ate and brushed his teeth, then we sat down on the couch so he could practice his reading. That’s when things took a turn for the worse. Usually, he’s great at trying to sound out the words and put forth the effort. This day, he was not feeling it. He was getting frustrated and putting his hands over his face, saying he couldn’t do it. He kept yawning and rubbing his eyes. I thought he was tired and feeling cranky, so I suggested that he take a break and lie down in his bed for a few minutes. It was all downhill from there. His anger and negative self-talk started to rise. He became mean. I know he’s only six-years-old and kids say things they don’t mean, but man, he really hit all the exposed nerves. Telling me that he wished his dad was still here instead of me. That he wants a mommy that is nice to him (because I asked him to stop acting like a baby and be a big boy, and then apologized multiple times to him for it since I felt horrible). That he doesn’t want me and that he’s going to find a new mommy. Then he started to get physical. He threw things. He ripped up his weekly behavioral progress report, which needed to be initialed by me and returned to school each day of the week (before we moved to online sessions), so I had to tape it back together. He attempted dump a bottle of water out on his chores and behavioral rewards chart I was making updates to.
I tried to make him feel safe, like I usually do, by hugging him tight and telling him how much I love him, but it didn’t help. From there, it got worse. He told me to take him to grandma’s (my mom’s) house; demanded it. I didn’t respond. Then he picked up my phone to try to call her, and I took it from him. So, he started putting on his boots like he was going to walk there. He kept up the mean and hurtful talk. I’ll be honest, I lost it. I yelled – loud. He wasn’t expecting my reaction and screamed back at me. I finally called my mom and asked her if I could drop him off for a bit. I needed a break. She agreed to help me out (she’s a freaking saint). He was only there for about 45 minutes and my mom was calling me to tell me I needed to come back and get him. His behavior had gotten worse – he was hitting, spitting, kicking and knocking over the kitchen chairs. Locking himself in rooms. I felt at my wits end.
I jumped in the car and rushed over to my mom's. When I got there, he was in the office under the desk. I climbed under there and wrapped my arms around him tight. He struggled with me at first, tried to fight me off, and scream-cried in my face. I continued to hold him and I finally cried too. I cried hard. I kept whispering to him, “Please calm down and let me help you.” At last, the tension in his little body started to melt away. I kept him embraced and told him I loved him. He was finally able to use his words to express his feelings and it all came spilling out. “I miss Daddy! I want my daddy,” he sobbed to me. “Why can’t I have a daddy?” These words – these gut-wrenching, heart-piercing words – they broke me. I sobbed with him and told him how sorry I was that his daddy was no longer on Earth. I told him that even though his daddy was in Heaven, that he was still his daddy and would ALWAYS be his daddy.
We continued to cry together for a little while longer, and I tried to comfort him while all the hurt and pain swallowed him up. And for the first time since right before my husband died, I felt completely and utterly helpless. I felt failure as a parent. I’m supposed to be the one to shield him from pain, take care of him when he’s hurt, protect him. I promised him I always would, and here I was, not doing my job.
Parker finally calmed down and we sat on the couch at my mom’s house, him snuggled in-between my mom and I. He seemed like himself again. I looked at him and I could see the happy, caring, loving little boy inside again. I swear getting him back to this state completely drained me – physically, mentally and emotionally. I knew I was going to need help when this happened again. I knew I could not sustain this on my own because this has happened before, and every time it happens, it’s worse than the last time. The aggression, the angry feelings, and the hurtful words that are spewed are always worse than the last time. I know that he is going to have bad days. Everyone does. But I want – and need – to maximize the amount of time in-between the bad days as much as I possibly can.
So, how am I helping him? Well, first off, I got him into therapy. Initially, he was in behavioral therapy, but that wasn’t working. Don’t get me wrong… the behavioral specialist was great, and she talked to Parker about acceptable ways that he can take out his “angry energy” and about coloring how he was feeling. She reiterated the difference between positive and negative consequences, and he grasped every concept she threw at him. However, when my child is amid a total mental shit-show, there is no getting him to take deep breaths or do wall pushes. He doesn’t want to talk about his feelings or try to explain what set him off. So, all the tools the behavioral specialist gave him, those go out the window when this kid sees red, and I’m just along for the ride at that point. My kid is dealing with heavy feelings and trauma from the loss of his dad, and they are deep-rooted, so he needs to talk to a professional about those.
In addition to his therapy, I’m working on not flying off the handle when he is “Hulking” out. Getting angry doesn’t diffuse the situation and it doesn’t make him feel safe. If he is yelling and I start to yell back, it just fuels his fire even more. Instead, I try to speak clearly and calmly to him, tell him I love him, and remind him that we all have bad days. If he’ll let me, I’ll hug him tight in hopes that it helps him feel safe. One other thing we’ve been working on is mindfulness activities. My mom got this cool little deck of cards (I think it was in some kind of Ellen DeGeneres subscription box) called Mindfulness Kids by Little Renegades (https://www.littlerenegades.com/products/mindful-kids-activity-cards). The description is simple: everyday exercises to help little ones find stillness, confidence, and joy in the present moment. We do about 3 to 5 cards a day together at random. He seems to like them and sometimes when he starts to feel agitated, I’ll pull out a card to try to shift his focus onto something else.
So far, these things seem to be working for him.
Before I end this post, I want to tell you that if you’re like me and you need help, it’s more than OK to ask for it. It doesn’t matter if you’re a single parent doing it on your own, if you’re married, or have a committed partner. You’ve heard the phrase “it takes a village” and I will be the first one to tell you that it most certainly does. I rely heavily on my mother, my in-laws, my friends, my coworkers, Parker’s teachers and doctors, because I sure as shit cannot do this on my own. Lean on your people as much as you need to and don’t ever feel like you’re asking too much of them because more times than not, they want to know what they can do to help. Finally – and I can’t stress this enough – be kind to yourself. Realize that you are only one person and you can only do so much. Give yourself a break and give yourself credit for all that you do because YOU ARE INCREDIBLE.
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