But I'm a Helper

It has been a long while since writing with my coaching hat on. I've been on a personal hiatus for a year now, dealing with some physical and mental health issues. If you're interested, please follow at story at https://www.embraceadventuretogether.com/blog

I've written in the past on topics such as anxiety in our family system, struggles with my kids with ADHD, and some of my own highs and lows with emotional maturity. This past year, I was mostly just writing about survival; often times with a panicked frenzy because life felt very unstable given some of the huge things our family was experiencing. Those things haven't changed and are all even still progressing, but the sense of overwhelming urgency has lifted and we've been able to start seeing things in a more calm light.

This is the space that I am embracing today as I write. A space built from a quiet moment in the midst of the many storms that will pass through our house today. And believe me, there will be many storms and one is currently happening in the living room. But I can still feel and be calm.

I had a Dr's appointment yesterday with my son's paediatrician. It was our regularly scheduled 6 month check-in. Nothing out of the ordinary. I did however, have to bring up some behavioural changes that I'd seen in my son over the last few months and he was with me, also wanting to talk to the Dr about what's going on inside him. FYI he's only 7 and he's got crazy good self awareness.

Yesterdays appointment triggered something in me that was laying really far down beneath the surface. Something that I'd almost kind of forgot about.

The fact that 3 of my kids have ADHD.

Say What! Alright. This is not something that people normally just forget. But in the is world of everybody's kids "having ADHD" (ask me more about my eye rolling opinions later), and our world involving cancer and Autism and trauma... I had actually forgotten about what my kiddo's ADHD looks like.

For the last few months... actually probably longer but in the hazy fog of time, who's counting... J has really been struggling with, um, pretty much everything. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for meltdowns, no rhyme or reason for the help he needed, no rhyme or reason for the sassy attitude coming out of his mouth.

The worst part about the meltdowns is when J would scream at us that we weren't helping in and that we always just made things worse. From then it would progress to we don't love him or care for him and from there to flat out we hate him.

It is so hard to be the parent sitting on the floor trying to help your limp child get dressed while they are screaming at you how much YOU hate THEM. It is so hard to be the parent laying on the bed rubbing their back, singing to them only to be told that you are STUPID and NOTHING you do ever helps.

But it is easy as this parent to judge the child; to get offended at the rebuffed offers. It is easy to walk away hurt and upset by the nasty words coming out of a beautiful soul. It is easy to feel frustration and wonder why your child can't just behave and loses his mind over the smallest things.

I have lived for 13 years in a world of child psychiatrists and counsellors. And while most have proved to be very helpful, there have been a few who have done a lot of damage.... to me.

Because I am a helper. I am the mom with flexible working hours so I can be home if my kids are sick. I am the mom who bakes fresh muffins and cookies. I am the mom who massages oil onto stress little backs. I am the mom who finds fun books at the library. I am the mom who does yoga with my kids. I am the mom who thinks about healthy foods. I am the mom who paints calm colours in their bedrooms and researches sensory rooms. I am that mom.

I want to help them. End of story. I want to help them thrive, grow, love, have fun, communicate....

Even writing this, I feel my body getting tense because of the love that I want to pour into these kids of mine. So imagine the feelings that flow through me every time one of them yells at me that I don't help them, that I won't help them. That I suck at being their mom. The pain is intense. It rips at parts of my heart that I didn't even know I had.

And I've seen counsellors that have told me that I don't measure up. Not in so many words, but with statements like, "maybe if you spent more time with your son" or "try listening to him when he speaks", or, the most damaging so far, "you just need to connect with him more".

What the counsellor doesn't know is that I value all of those things as much as I value my kids. There is no room in my life for not listening to my son. There is no room for not working on connection. And I spend amazing time with my kids doing all sorts of things.

So, gathering all these thoughts together... because yes, I am trying to go somewhere with all this rambling. Yesterday's Dr's appointment was so crucial for J and me.

After telling the Dr about all the things that I'm seeing and then J telling his versions, the Dr smiled at us and told us that we were doing an amazing job together.

I nearly keeled over, my shock was so great. The words that followed are probably the most grace filled, kind, caring words that I've heard in the last few years. She said, "J has ADHD. When his bucket is full and then overflows, he can't control anything that he says or does. That's the reality of an ADHD brain. He'll say mean words that he doesn't mean and do things that he doesn't want to. But the amazing part is when he's all done, he will come running to you because he knows and feels your love for him. He knows that you support him and care for him. And he knows that you will help him with whatever he needs."

I'm pausing. The enormity of what she said was huge.

But here's the crazy part. This has given me the tools to take a step back and look at what's getting stirred up in me. Especially in these times when I want to help and I am rejected. It hurts. It offends. My hurt turns to frustration. My frustration to anger. And all of the sudden, there's a spiral spinning the wrong way, out of control, where I am feeling justified in my offence because I offered and he's the one doing the rejecting.

Being offered a different view was life changing. Getting up into the balcony and watching it unfold gives a whole new perspective.

J doesn't reject me because of any relational issue. We've got that down to the best of our flawed, human ability. His rejection is purely a brain thing at this time, that his 7 year old body can't control. And like I said before, he's got amazing self-awareness because when he does come out of a funk, he is able to articulate exactly what was going on in his body and mind... and, he can usually even figure out what is the best solution for moving forward.

And that always starts with a hug. Physical connection. Moments of I love you. Apology. Forgiveness. Deep connection.

I am a helper. And J is a helper. And together, we help each other. And it's pretty dang wonderful.

I'd love to finish here, with a snappy ending and a peaceful feeling. But I feel like there's a wee bit more to unravel. And that is my own self-awareness in these situations. In any situation, but today we're talking about this one in particular.

Because here's the thing. The way that I respond to J or any of my kids regardless of how they're behaving or what they're saying, is up to me. I get to choose my responses and how I show up.

Today, this example lets me off the hook a bit when we're talking about how the behaviour is "nobody's fault" because it's a brain, chemical imbalance. But what about the times when my kiddos are just in a full on snit because life isn't going their way? How do I respond then?

It is super easy to internalize it and place blame but in reality, I have the ability to be in full control over by body and my reactions. But if I'm not aware of what's being triggered in myself, I probably won't take the responsibility to react kindly.

I know what happens in my body when J accuses me of not helping. Muscles tighten in my back. My face bunches up and all my forehead lines crease. My lips pull tight.

The self-aware me, knows to relax fists and unclench my jaw. The self-aware me knows how to soften my gaze and open my heart.

And it is the self-aware, less reactive, more loving, kind, compassionate Mama that my kids run to after their world has been rocked and shaken.

Our Dr's appointment yesterday was so much more than just a check in. It was a reminder to me that I have values around how I show up in this world. That it is way more important to me to be the helper and the constant, steady force in my kid's lives than it is to have my own way or sit around being hurt and offended because my kid wouldn't get off the floor and put their pants on.

Will it be perfect? Absolutely not. Will I still fall apart regularly? Probably. Will we get through it? Yes. Will it be wonderful? Guaranteed.