Unchain the Mind: ADHD
Mental disability takes many forms. It is the most misunderstood, societally shunned ailment. 50% of children with a mental health condition go untreated. I have been here, lived that. Purposeful ignorance will not be my mantra. His mind would be a horrible thing to waste.
Born with Pulmonary Stenosis, David faced adversity from the start. He endured a 10-day hospital stay after he was born, and gave his first smile to his foster mom, Vivian, when he was only two weeks old. Bringing him home at 3 ½ weeks, we doubled-down on his formula to compensate for chronic spewing, and helped him to successfully navigate heart surgery at 7 ½ weeks old.
The doctor informed us that it was a success. They were about to open his valve to 75%. His physical recovery was seamless. Within the week he was back to his normal routine. Each monthly and annual screening at follow-up appointments showed promise. It was holding steady. There was never a need for medication or follow-up surgical intervention. This was a welcomed surprise.
We thought we knew what we were taking on. San Bernardino County went to great lengths to be upfront and honest about his condition. It would never go away. The first time we met David was at a doctor appointment. They wanted to make sure we heard it from an expert, and were able to ask any follow-up questions.
There would also be comorbidities with his condition, though no one could say for sure what those would be. A friend, whose four-year-old daughter lived with this condition personally shared a concern she had: her little girl had an apparent mental disconnect in relating action with consequence.
Whatever may come from all of it, we felt we could handle it. With the right understanding and support we would be okay.
Early Manifestations
David had such a happy-go-lucky personality. All was right in his world. If anything ever knocked him down, he didn’t stay there long. As his parents we had to find creative ways to correct and direct him. Having fun was his first priority, and discipline was always an inevitable side note.
We knew that David struggled with self control. The allure of his curious nature left no room for reason. The world was his playground. He learned best through trial and error. Natural consequence was his teacher, and most of the time it was worth it.
When he started Kindergarten we understood it would be a challenge for him. We joked about not answering the phone when they called. As teachers, we knew he was going to be one of THOSE students. His time at school would offer us a well-deserved break.
In third grade, his impulsivity began to get the better of him. His grades began to drop. Classmates were making fun of him. They saw his lack of self-control and played off of it. I received calls (and answered them) from the school office on numerous occasions.
My Denial
I am not sure what prevented me from seeking professional advice at this point in time. I did not hesitate when it came to supporting his physical health. I saw the value in medical intervention and support. But when it came to his mental health, I was hesitant.
Before now, I would not even consider medication to help manage his condition. Paul had suggested it on many occasions. I hated the thought. There was such stigma that surrounded it. As his mom, I felt like I had to find a way to equip him with the tools he needed to successfully navigate it in a natural way. That official diagnosis and medical management was the “lazy” way out.
Friends and family suggested a change in diet and a limiting of certain foods. They encouraged teaching healthy habits of thought and processing. All of the ideas were geared toward changing behavior, suggesting it was a learned way of functioning that could easily be unlearned and redirected.
For me, medication for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) was not an option. Even those who did it seemed ashamed. Choosing diagnosis and medication would mean that I wasn’t doing my job; I wasn’t able to figure out what he needed, didn’t try hard enough. Essentially, if it came to this, it was evidence that I was giving up. Not a dedicated mother. A decided failure.
What I hadn’t heard is that what we were dealing with was a mental illness. With professional treatment, it could be managed, and David, properly supported.
By the time we met with his teacher during Parent/Teacher Conferences, I had already invested so much time and energy researching, trying to find another way. It was in this meeting that I came face to face with the consequence of my decisions.
His grades had dropped. They were not a true reflection of his ability. Impulsivity led him to copycat destructive behavior repeatedly because it got a good laugh. At only eight years old he was self-destructing and everything we tried was not working.
Possible Treatment
Someone suggested shock therapy. It was proven to be successful for several mental health disorders. They would zap certain areas of the brain to help develop a more “normal” processing. I believe this person was only trying to help, but I imagined a laser held above my son’s surgically-exposed brain, irreversible damage. That was not an option.
I knew David struggled, but I didn’t want to make a decision that would permanently affect his life. His brain was unique, amazing, and held such potential that I didn’t want to stifle it. Anything we did couldn’t change him — that was where I drew my line. This was a non-negotiable.
Considering medication was the next route. I cried the day we finally scheduled the doctor appointment. I felt like I had given up, that I was not being a good mother. But I also felt like I had run out of options.
“It is your choice, David, your body.” We talked about the possible benefit and detriment of taking psych meds. There would be side effects. He could choose to stop them at any time.
The doctor diagnosed David with ADHD and Dyslexia. We started him on Adderall the next day. His focus improved. “I used to have 1000 thoughts flying around my head. They’re still there, but now I can focus on one at a time!” David was so excited about that, and I was glad the other 999 remained.
The Results
But he also began to suffer from a lack of appetite and insomnia. He had to learn how to eat even when he wasn’t hungry and take Melatonin to fall asleep at night. I checked in with David periodically to see how he was feeling about all of it. Despite the side effects, he wanted to keep taking the medication. For him, it was worth it.
David’s behavior at school improved as well. His grades went up and his impulsivity on the playground subsided. He became more cognitive of his surroundings. There were days he came home from school, crying. The way his classmates had learned to relate with him (unmedicated) was hurtful. For the first time in his life, he was aware.
Then came the uncharacteristic anger. David would fly into a rage, face red, fists clenched at the slightest irritant. I had never seen him like this before. I didn’t like it.
Some friends shared their experience. The husband went through the same thing. It was unsettling. He talked to his doctor, changed medications, and it stopped. Within the month we switched David to Vyvanse.
The Lessons
Over the years, through trial and error, we’ve learned to help David navigate his physical and mental disability. He has developed healthy habits of the body and mind. He faces adversity with resolve.
The struggle is real. Each day is met with trial and error. We’ve had to accept that David will never fit in the neat and tidy box of societal expectation. And he shouldn’t have to. What he has to offer is so much greater than all of that.
As his parents, we have grown. I have become more concerned about truly taking care of him, and less concerned about how it makes me look. He is my priority. We’ve gained a new perspective. We are more patient and understanding, both as parents and teachers.
We have learned to shift our focus and value what he has to offer. He is Twice Exceptional. His gifts are often obscured by his disability. We have to advocate for him, and provide opportunities for him to hone his talents. With proper medical support and a 504 Plan, he has excelled in both curricular and extracurricular activity.
As a piano aficionado, Lego Master Builder, Rubik’s Speed Cuber, VEX Robotics Competitor, coder, and architectural engineer, he’s found what he has to offer this wide world. Purposefully managing what is rather than hiding in what we think should be. This is mental health. A brilliant mind with masked potential, just waiting to shine.
