Hiding In The Attic

by Kathryn Lanier

Early in man's evolution, people who behaved outside the norm were considered to have special powers. Their psychic abilities and sensitivities were revered and they were respected as shamans. This is still true in many primitive cultures. Through the centuries, the stigma of mental illness in the Western World has not changed to any great degree. In fact, people in many European and North American societies used to hide relatives who were mentally challenged, physically disabled, or mad in the attic, away from "polite society." Regrettably, the media sensationalism of neurological disorders and the medications that treat these disorders have many parents still symbolically hiding their children in the attic.

My son looks like an angel. He has beautiful translucent skin with a rosy complexion, natural blond hair, eyes that were blue but may decide now to be green. He is tall for his age and thin in a straight-as-an-arrow sort of way. My son has a beautiful heart, is extremely intelligent, amazingly sensitive, artistically and musically gifted, and never fails to notice the beauty of natural wonders. My son's inner light sparkles. Jacob looks like a normal, seven-year-old little boy.

Virtually from conception, Jacob sent signals that he was going to be different than other children. During one of the many ultrasound tests I had to have during my pregnancy, Jacob was seen busily punching at his twin sister as she peacefully lay in her sac sucking her thumb. Jacob decided after 28 weeks of being inutero that he had had enough and was ready to go. So he kicked his tiny foot through his sac. Jacob and his twin sister burst into the world twelve weeks early, weighing little more than two pounds each.

By the time Jacob was 3 ½ years old, it was recommended that he see a psychiatrist to obtain medication. Thirteen different medications later, Jacob still had no impulse control, was becoming increasingly aggressive and manipulative, never slept, had extreme difficulty learning, and continually destroyed his surroundings. He had been tested for every conceivable psychological disorder from developmental delays to bipolar disorder, and still none of the professionals seemed to be able to offer any answers, any solutions.

Jacob's life became a never ending cycle of being in trouble as he grew older. As Jacob's mother, I was at my wit's end. When Jacob was 6 ½ years old, I made a final, last ditch effort to obtain help for Jacob and the family. I took my son to a new pediatrician. This doctor was wise enough to see that we were in a state of severe crisis and had the good common sense to say that he was not qualified to help. However, he could recommend a good neurologist. The neurologist we visited calmly explained that my son had one of the most severe cases of ADHD, Tourette's Syndrome, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Oppositional Defiance Disorder (OPD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), and developmental delays due to the lack of treatment implemented for him thus far.

The first two medications prescribed were to help Jacob sleep and balance the seratonin levels to help with the high level of anxiety. For the first time in 6 ½ years, my son slept through the night. Jacob began first grade and the same behavior and learning issues arose that were evident in kindergarten. The neurologist prescribed a new stimulant medication and Jacob finally began learning.

Jacob is seven and a half years old now and is playing baseball. Unfortunately, team sports at the elementary level practice and play games in the evenings, well after the stimulant drug has worn off. Little did I know that it would be our experience with team sports and amateur coaches that would prove to be one of the most important lessons Jacob could ever teach me.

The coach of his baseball team likes to yell and criticize. I have quietly and privately spoken with this coach about some of Jacob's issues, offering suggestions about how to redirect behavior and explaining that Jacob takes longer to learn than other children. I have doled out information as you do to a child - on an "as needed" basis. Jacob left the field crying for the third time last week and refused to go back out. He quit. He had had it. He was in tears and said he was tired of being yelled at and punished.

Jacob and his twin sister and I spent the next twenty-four hours talking about bullies and how to handle them. We decided that we could not change a bully but we could change our response to them. Jacob still wanted to quit. He was still afraid that he would only be yelled at. I asked him to give it one more try and dress out for the game that night. I called the coach and told him that there would be no more yelling at my son. I explained that I expected him to praise the children for what they do well. He yelled at me and hung up on me. Oh well. I had established my boundaries.

As an adult child of an alcoholic parent, one of the bad habits that I developed is the feeling that I have to keep secrets. I learned that there is something to be ashamed of in revealing who we really are. I had never really been frank and forthright with Jacob's teachers or coaches because I did not want Jacob to be labeled before he had a chance to prove himself. I did not want the specter of the media sensationalism regarding ADHD and stimulant medication to overshadow Jacob.

What a disservice I had done to my son. I had been sending the message that who he is should be kept a secret, that who he is is not good enough to be revealed. I had allowed society's stigma of neurological and mental disorders to determine my interaction with teachers, coaches, and other parents. As I decided that I would be honest about the challenges that Jacob faces, I realized that I had been operating out of a prejudice myself - the prejudice that implies that people who do not wake up and face these challenges day after day will unfairly judge those who do. Some will. Some have. Others do not.

My son is a beautiful boy whose challenges do not show on the outside. My son has multiple neurological challenges that are being treated with medication and behavior management and love. My son's neurological challenges create parenting challenges that I was ill-prepared to face when we first began our journey together. My son's neurological disorders do not have anything to do with the fantastically wonderful embodiment of the Divine's perfection that he is. My son's challenges merely make it more difficult for him to show you who he really is. My son has no reason to be ashamed.

My son has already changed the future. He has changed my future by teaching me that keeping secrets creates shame and guilt where none should exist. He has made me a better parent by requiring me to focus on the job as few other parents are ever required to do. He has changed the coach's future by bringing him a woman and a boy not willing to suffer bullies. He has changed the lives of the parents and children he plays ball with by showing them that children do not always have physical manifestations of disabilities. Who can say what wonderful differences my son may make in this world as an adult? As a child, he already has taught so many the power of sheer perseverance and love and forgiveness.

Jim Young asks in his book, If God Is So Good, Why Do the Children Suffer?, "How do we know that a child with a handicap is not enjoying life and having the perfect experience for this stage of his or her spiritual development?" How indeed? Young reminds us that the Divine is absolute perfection, that we are of the Divine, and that it is merely influences in the relative world and our interpretations of these influences that create suffering. Jacob has taught me that who he really is, that who I really am, is sufficient for joy. No more hiding in the attic.

© 2002 by Kathryn Lanier, All Rights Retained by the Author.