Avoiding the Tough Questions

"Mom, what's Easter about?" Bear asked me one day a few weeks ago, without so much as looking up from what he was doing.

"Wha...huh? Em...uh...well...that's a really good question, Bear," I stammered, totally taken aback and also really impressed.

The problem was that I had no idea how to answer that question. I mean, I knew what the answer was, I just wasn't sure how to share that information with Bear without traumatizing him. Although we're a Christian family, Bear's issues have pretty much prevented us from attending church on a regular basis...or a semi-regular basis...or at all...so he hasn't been exposed to the darker side of the Christian story. Sure, I talk to Bear about God, but it's more the warm and fuzzy stuff.

I could just see how this would go...

"Well, Bear, you see, a very long time ago, Jesus -- you remember me telling you about him, right? -- and you've learned about him at school, right? -- you know, Jesus? (insert French accent because Bear goes to a French school) -- well, he's God's son. And there were a bunch of really bad men who didn't like him, so they decided to punish him and kill him. What? How did they kill him? Um...well...it's not very nice, but back then they nailed people to a really big cross, and they died there. Oh, don't look like that, Bear! It's OK, cause God knew it was going to happen. In fact, He planned it. Why did He plan it? Um...well...that's another really good question. No, you're right, it doesn't sound very nice. No, it doesn't make him sound like a very good father. But back then people had to sacrifice a lamb to get God's forgiveness for their sins. What does sacrifice mean? Um...well...they took the lamb and..."

You get the point. I just didn't see this ending well. So I pretty much took the coward's way out.

"At Easter we celebrate God and Jesus," I told him. Short and sweet.

"Oh, like a birthday?" he asked.

"Nope, Christmas is Jesus' birthday. At Easter we just...um...celebrate them."

"Oh, OK."

Then it occurred to me that surely they're teaching him about Easter at school. It was the week before Easter and Bear goes to a Catholic school. Surely they've figured out how to talk to a 7 year old about Easter.

"What are they teaching you about Easter at school, Bud?" I asked.

"Huh?" he asked, looking up from his game. "Uh...um...I don't know," he said, looking back down.

Obviously they hadn't said anything too traumatizing, so I let the subject drop. OK, then...let's just leave it there and be happy we got off easy this time.

You're Stuck with Me!

I wanted to take a minute to thank everyone who reached out to me to share how much this blog has meant to them. You told me how I made you laugh until you cried, made you cry through your laughter, reassured you that you weren't alone, encouraged you to keep fighting, comforted you when things got tough, inspired you to reach out in your own community and, most importantly, helped you to be better parents. You told me that you needed me, that you would miss me, and that I still had work to do.

Your words encouraged me, inspired me, made me smile, and even made me cry. You reminded me that the next steps in a journey don't cancel out the previous steps, they build on them, ultimately adding to the experience. What diagnosis is given to Bear or what I choose to call myself doesn't take away from what I've learned along the way and how it has shaped me. If anything, it adds to what I have to offer the world through my words.

So this is me -- The ODD Mom.

It's who I am.

It's who I'm proud to be.

Thanks for reminding me. I'm grateful.

Identity Crisis

In case you're wondering, yes, I'm still here. I can't tell you how many posts I've started over the past few months and abandoned. The reasons for this are numerous, but part of the reason is that this blog is starting to feel like a sham.

You see, when I first started blogging, we were in crisis mode with Bear. Every day was a new challenge, and I needed somewhere to share what I was going through. This blog gave me a place to do that, and you all helped me see that I wasn't alone. The bonus was that I was able to help others while I helped myself.

The last few months, however, have brought some much needed relief to our household, along with some surprises. It has been smooth sailing with Bear for ages, to the point that I don't really have anything to write about. The ODD behaviour seems to have disappeared, but that's kind of what I used to write about.

Just last month a psychologist with our school board spent two days with Bear, and her findings were kind of surprising...although they probably shouldn't have been. She diagnosed Bear with Aspergers (a form of autism), which explains a lot of his anxiety and behaviours. She removed the diagnosis of ODD because she feels that a lot of his ODD-like behaviour was due to his Aspergers. That makes total sense, but it leaves me with a bit of a dilemma.

I'm The ODD Mom. It's who I've become over the past few years. It's how I've come to see myself, in many respects. If Bear no longer has ODD and I no longer have anything to write about in this blog, what happens to The ODD Mom and this blog? I'm just not sure...

Let's Give Them Something To Talk About -- Bell Let's Talk Day

It's Bell Let's Talk Day in Canada, and it's a great opportunity to get the conversation going about children's mental illness. As parents, we're so very hesitant to share with people that our children have mental health problems. But why is that?

For one thing, we're afraid that they won't understand. Fair enough, they might not. But how is not talking about it going to help change that?

Secondly, we're afraid people might judge us or our children. Another good point. But let's be honest here -- children with mental illnesses that manifest outwardly in bad behaviour simply look like brats to the outside world and we, their parents, look lazy and negligent. Ergo, we're already being judged. So once again, how is not talking about it going to help?

Third, the term "mental illness" is pretty damn scary. It calls to mind the mental institutions of old and images of sociopaths and other people society says we should be afraid of. But are those images accurate, or are we buying into the very stigma we need to fight?

The fact remains that 1 in 5 children will suffer from a mental illness at some point, and not talking about it isn't going to make it go away. What it will do, however, is continue to alienate them and the people who love them.

Ask yourself this. If 1 in 5 children has a mental illness, why do so many parents feel alone? Answer? Because nobody talks about it.

So here's what I'm proposing. What if rather than hiding from it, we talked about it? What if rather than being embarrassed about it, we educated people about it? What if rather than complaining about it, we did something about it?

As scary as it can be, I don’t think we’re going to change the perception of mental illness unless we embrace it.

Who's with me?


Note: This is a slightly revised version of a post I put up last year.

Message to an ODD Grandmother

The other day I received a beautiful email that touched my heart, and I wanted to share it with you.

Hello ODD Mom...thank you so much for doing this blog...my daughter is coping with an ODD 7 yr. old boy and I feel so helpless to help her. I look forward to getting your blog and getting some insight on this condition. God Bless you for your help! Nana

 

Dear Nana,

 

Thank you so much for your beautiful email -- your love for your daughter and your grandson shines through. Having a child with mental health issues can be extremely lonely. Many parents don't have anyone to talk to about it or someone who understands what they're going through. Although you may feel helpless to help your daughter, I want to tell you that you're not. You may not be able to make everything all better for her, which as a mother I know you want to do, but you can do more than you think.  

• Tell her you love her.
• Tell her you're proud of her.
• Tell her she's a good mother.
• Share positive things about your grandson with your daughter. Parents of children with ODD don't often hear a whole lot of nice things about their children, but every parent needs to. Does he have a kind smile? An infectious laugh? A curious nature? A great sense of humour? A great imagination? Is he smart? Is he good with animals? Is he patient with a younger sibling? Does he notice things other people miss? The possibilities are endless, even if you have to get creative.
• Ask her what you can do to help -- come prepared with ideas. Having a child with ODD can make even everyday tasks difficult. Can you pick up groceries every now and then? Can you provide a casserole for the family to eat every couple of weeks so she doesn't have to cook? Can you help clean the house once in a while? Can you take the other kids to their activities or pick them up after school?
• Offer to take your grandson off her hands for an hour, even if it's only long enough for her to go to the library, get her hair cut, have a nap, or do the groceries. If you can handle him for two hours, then rent a movie, pop some popcorn, and spend some time with him.
• Listen to her when she needs to talk.
• Respect her decisions. If she tells you that a certain behaviour needs to be treated a certain way, do it. If she asks you not to feed him a certain food because she's noticed it sets him off, believe her.
• Invite the whole family over for dinner but make sure it's a relaxing time, not a stressful event. Set the kids up in front of the TV, feed them their favourite dinner, and allow your daughter to sit down for a quiet supper. Look after her for a few hours -- you'd be amazed how good that feels when you're spending all your energy on someone else.
• Love your grandson unconditionally. Tell him you love him and that you love spending time with him. Kids with ODD often have a hard time fitting in, and so that unconditional love is so important. Parents of children with ODD often feel that their children are unwelcome, so that unconditional love is important for them as well. (Note: Unconditional love doesn't mean letting your grandson get away with murder. Children with ODD may not take kindly to discipline, but they still need it.)

These ideas might seem small to you, but they can go a long way in helping your daughter and giving her strength on this journey. Trust me...I speak from experience.

The Gluten Conspiracy

Don't worry, I'm not about to go off on some tangent about how gluten is the devil and the government is covering it all up in order to subsidize wheat farmers. Gluten is the devil, however, at least when fed to my child.

See, that's what all this has come down to. Well, not all, but at least the problems Bear has been having for the last few months.

Let me back up a bit. When Bear was first diagnosed with ADHD and ODD in the spring of 2009 (is that all????), my very cautious family doctor wouldn't start him on meds until we had his heart tested. Off we trotted to the local medical lab for the test, the results of which prompted a phone call from our doctor. The tests had shown an abnormality and he was referring us to a pediatric heart specialist for further testing. We knew it would be six months to a year before we'd get into the specialist and then probably another few months before we'd get any meds sorted out, so we decided to visit a naturopath in the meantime. (For the record, Bear's heart was just fine. The machine had been calibrated for adults, not children, so his results were quite normal. Grrrrrr...)

The naturopath suggested we test Bear for heavy metals and food sensitivities, so we did. Heavy metals came back normal, but the results of the food sensitivities showed that Bear was off-the-charts sensitive (no kidding...our naturopath had never seen results like this) for eggs, gluten, soy, sunflower, and casein. We eliminated everything and fed him nothing but water and grass for three weeks. Fine...kidding...but we did eliminate all the offending foods and stuck to that diet for over two years. The difference in Bear's behaviour was night and day. His aggression and defiance nosedived (nosedove?), and his ability to concentrate increased noticeably, all within a week. This was a whole new Bear.

Every now and then over the course of the first year we would either test Bear with one of the offending foods or discover the hard way that he had eaten some of the forbidden fruit. (Don't believe me? Read A Boy, a Granola Bar, and a Suspension.) He would immediately spiral back into days of aggression and meltdowns. We learned to cancel all plans and just ride it out. After the first year, we decided to just keep on truckin' with the diet -- no more trying to reintroduce anything.

As it happened, we were at my in-laws this summer and they invited us to stay for dinner. As we hadn't planned on staying, we had nothing for Bear to eat. Oh well, we thought. We hadn't tested Bear on gluten in probably a year, so why not try him with a sandwich and see what happens. The poor little guy was in seventh heaven with his peanut butter and jam on white bread.

The next day we waited for the big kaboom...and we waited...and we waited. So we gave him some more gluten. And we waited...and waited...and...nothing. We put everything back into his diet and we didn't notice any change in his behaviour. Hallelujah!!!! Suddenly, we were back to living like a semi-normal family. Bear ate like a horse; he put on pounds and grew inches. It was amazing. And still no problems.

School started, and no problems. If anything, he was doing better than ever before. The teachers and administrators couldn't get over this "new" Bear.

And then it started. The regression. A behaviour here. A behaviour there. About a week ago it became apparent that something needed to be done, so I called the doctor to get an appointment. Knowing it would probably be a few weeks (months?) before we could get in, The ODD Dad and I discussed putting Bear back on his diet. Should we? Shouldn't we? Would it help? Would he do it?

So we did, except this time we only removed gluten. Bear had the worst reaction to gluten, so we figured we'd start there. Within five days, Bear had re-emerged from under the cloud of anger and aggression he'd been living under for weeks (months?). My Bear. My sweet Bear. My loving Bear. My funny Bear. My precious Bear. My baby Bear.

He's back.

I missed him.

Forget the Recession -- Let's Talk Regression

There's no denying that recessions are bad things, but I'm willing to bet that the "R" word that really strikes fear into the heart of the ADHD/ODD parent (or any other parent whose child has a mental illness, for that matter) is a different one.



Forget the recession...let's talk regression. Regression starts slowly, with a few long-forgotten behaviours.

"Wow!" you say to yourself or to your partner, "We haven't had to deal with that in a long time. Remember when that was an everyday occurrence?" And you smugly pat yourself on the back for having gotten your child past that stage without having smothered the little darling in the middle of the night.

And then another behaviour rears its ugly head. Or perhaps you see that first behaviour more often, and you begin to wonder what's going on.

But the behaviour is sporadic, so you kind of forget about it in between episodes. Except you don't really forget about it, because you can't. Because you're the parent of a child with a mental illness, so the question about what's going on is always in the back of your mind. Because you analyze everything your child does...always...in an attempt to figure out which therapies are working and which ones aren't. And what helps and what doesn't. And what sets your child off and what doesn't. And what they can cope with today and what they can't. The watching, the waiting, the thinking...it never ends.

And then one day you realize that life has gone back to "normal." Except it's your old normal, the one you thought you had left behind. And you realize you've been tiptoeing around your child for weeks, not knowing what's going to set off the explosion. And it feels as if everything you've done, worked on, researched, endured has been for nothing. That you're back at square one, with no idea where to go from here.

This knowledge hits you when you're already exhausted from weeks of fighting and aggression, so it hits you like a punch in the stomach. And all you want to do is curl up in bed and cry, because you feel like you just don't have the energy to start all over again. I can tell you from personal experience that there are few things more disheartening than feeling like all the progress you've made over the months or years has suddenly gone out the window.

I'm going back to bed now, where I may or may not cry. (There's a good chance I will.) But once my pity party is over, I'll get back up and start all over again. Because that's what I do. I'm the parent of a child with a mental illness. That's what we do.