Writing Challenge Day 11
The incredible Hulk
“Where are my earrings?” my youngest calls from the bedroom. I can hear her rummaging through the clutter on the floor in her bedroom, searching intently for her earrings, when...
“WHERE ARE THEY?
WHERE DID YOU PUT THEM?
I WANT THEM BACK!!!
GIVE THEM TO ME!
I KNOW YOU HAVE THEM!
I WANT THEM BACK!”
My daughter's eyes glaze over, and her pupils fully dilate in her contorted red face, meeting mine from less than an inch away. Her shoulders are pulled back, and her arms are stretched behind her, her white-knuckled fists clenched tightly.
We have been here many times before. The episodes are much less frequent and don’t last as long as they used to, but that doesn’t take away my instant fear of what might come next.
My body instantly switches into survival mode. This time, there were no signs; she was there, in my face. She blocked my exit from the kitchen; there was nowhere to go. My 11-year-old daughter stood towering over me like the incredible Hulk.
That is the best metaphor I can use to describe what happens to her when she has a meltdown; she shapeshifts into the Incredible Hulk. Her body is taken over by such rage aimed at her sole target, me! I have had to lock myself up, sometimes for hours, barricade doors, duck, and run from heavy objects being thrown or run at me like a door ram. This includes a barstool, scooter and even a single mattress. In that state of sheer rage, there is nothing anyone can do to snap her out of it.
An unfamiliar force surged through me. Stretching myself as tall as possible, I leaned in with my arms high, hands fully spread out.
“I DON’T HAVE THEM!
I SWEAR!
YOU CAN SEARCH ME IF YOU WANT.”
I stood motionless with my arms and legs spread wide.
The tightness in her body evaporated, and an almost startling relaxation came over her. Her dilated pupils and glazed-over eyes slowly flickered back recognition as she saw me. Quietly, she walked into her bedroom.
Strangely, I felt very calm and euphoric. What just happened? How? Was that it?
Twenty minutes later, she walked out of her room wearing her earrings, saying, “Hi, Mom. What’s for dinner? Can I have a snack?” as if the event had never occurred. That is what happens during a meltdown: a complete disassociation from what is happening and not remembering anything she did during the meltdown, only that she had lost her earrings.
That afternoon, I shared what happened with our behavioural therapist. “You met her energy in that moment and snapped her out of it, “ she said. Working with her has shifted our family paradigm. Ever since our diagnosis 2 years ago and with lots of research, I have become aware and gained a whole different perspective of understanding each of us and our specific traits. My eyes were opened to what is reality and not of what I was perceiving or assuming. Two very different things. Even knowing what is happening is very different to understanding what is happening.
During our session, while discussing the event, she said “Just remember,
She is not giving you a hard time.
She is having a hard time.”
Read that again.
Those few words were a game-changer for me. Being a neurodivergent single mum, parenting is challenging in itself because overwhelm, overstimulation, and sensory issues are a daily struggle. Hormones have added a unique dimension to our household, making it doubly challenging. Understanding this has made me more empathetic and conscious in my approach. I am changing how I parent my neuro-spicy kids, running those phrases several times a day in the back of my head.
She is not giving you a hard time.
She is having a hard time.
This reminder helps me stay present, be conscious and considerate, not assume, and see what is real so I can be a better parent for my kids.
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