I had the privilege of visiting with a very nice man last
night. We were serving as Greeters at
church and we were assigned to the same door.
I had seen him around many times but we had never spoken. In between opening the door and welcoming the
churchgoers he told me a little about his life.
His speech was halting and he had to search to find the
words he wanted to use. He wasn’t sure
on his feet, and walked with a bit of limp.
He told me he was in his 60’s but spoke with the wide eyed excitement of
a 10 year old.
I’m sure, had he not been born in 1950, he would have had
several diagnoses with enough letters to have himself a big bowl of alphabet
soup. And through the years, he may well
have gathered some diagnoses.. but that’s not what we talked about.
He told me of how he went to Bible School. He told me how he felt like he was called to
work in ministry. And he told me of how
his mother told him he would never be able to do that. He told me that his mother always told him
that he would never amount to anything.
This is his childhood memory. And
it broke my heart.
To be fair, there wasn’t as much information available in
the 1950’s. Learning Disabilities didn’t
become a popular term until the 60’s.
Before that every learning difference pretty much fell under the
umbrella of “mental retardation” and the stigma that carried.
Today we know more.
We know that there is an entire spectrum of Learning Disabilities, all
spelled out in cryptic letters as if they are some secret code. ADD, ADHD, ADS, SID, PDD-NOS… and these
“disabilities” usually travel in groups, called comorbids. And there are medications and therapies for
them all. And it seems that once we treat
one, something else pops up, so we treat that only to find another comorbid which
needs treating. And suddenly we step
back and realize that between pills and therapies and doctors visits, we have
unwittingly sent the message that my church friend’s mother said to him all
those years ago.
“You will never amount to anything. There is just too much wrong with you.”
No, it’s not what we mean to send by any means. We only want to help. We want to fix the problems. But I wonder, if by focusing so much attention
on the “problems” that we are missing all the things that are so very right in
these children.
I wonder why it has taken so long to realize that when we
focus on the positive, the negatives tend to fade and disappear. And conversely, and all too
heartbreaking, when we focus on the
negatives the positives tend to fade and disappear.
Does that mean we shouldn’t seek a diagnosis? Not at all.
A diagnosis can be freeing. A
diagnosis can lead to therapies that can make life better. A diagnosis can and should be a tool that
helps you go farther, but it should never limit you. And you don’t need a diagnosis for every
little thing that makes you different.
You seek a diagnosis when something hurts, or when you are troubled. You go the doctor because you have an
earache, not because you have differently shaped ears.
I have a friend who suffers from OCD, (obsessive compulsive
disorder) and when I say suffer, I mean suffer.
He is riddled with anxiety about whether the doors are locked and has to
check and recheck. He is troubled by
this. He loses sleep. It keeps him from enjoying activities. It hurts him.
I know someone else with the same disorder. His compulsion manifests in the way he eats. He must have his own silverware with him when
he eats out, his food must not touch, and he must eat his food in a certain order. He is content with this and it does not
trouble him in the slightest. It’s not
hard to see that only one of these guys needs a diagnosis. Only one needs treatment.
We did seek out a diagnosis for our son, but only when his
“differences” seemed to start troubling him.
When he was little, and literally crawling up the walls, we would ask
his pediatrician if he needed to be tested for anything. She would always say, “I’m sure that we would
end up with a diagnosis but I see no reason to worry about it. He is a homeschooled kid who doesn’t have to
be one way to fit into a classroom. Just
let him be.” Her wisdom stood for a long
time, but as my son approached his teen years, some of his behaviors, or quirks
began to intensify. He began to seem
more “different” than his peers and I could see it start to bug him. This was the point that we began to think a
diagnosis might be to our advantage.
I remember talking to him about going to the doctor, telling
him over and over again I didn’t think there was anything WRONG with him. My goal in getting a diagnosis was not to
change him, but make him more comfortable with himself. And it worked. We got a diagnosis and a treatment plan that
included the Wilbarger Brushing Protocol that was nothing less than a miracle
for him.
I also remember the doctor telling me that he would need a
therapist as he became an older teen, because “these kids” tend to get angry
and depressed and need someone to talk to that isn’t Mom or Dad. I politely told her I would keep that in my
mind, but in my mind, I was pretty sure that would never happen. And I was right. He went through those formative teen years
with no issues at all.
Yet, I hear all the time about kids who didn’t have that
same experience. My son seems to be the
exception where the rule seems to be angry, sad kids. And I’m wondering if maybe the problem is the
school system where differences are discouraged rather than celebrated. Different equals Defective. How can any child go through 12 years of
being reminded he is different, of being set apart for his differences, and
continually being sent the message he must be fixed? It probably wouldn’t take long for that child
to accept that he is broken. And that
could easily result in an angry, sad child.
But it’s not just our school system. We as parents have a huge responsibility to
take care of our kids and we don’t want to ever leave any stone unturned. Maybe another doctor, maybe another
treatment… And all the while, the
message is being sent… “there is
something wrong with you that must be fixed.”
Maybe all that needs to be fixed is our perspective.
Step back. Take a
good look at your child. Think of all
the ways he is different. Now think of
all the ways those differences make him a better person. Run with that. Now picture many years from now, when he
meets a new friend and begins to tell of his life. Picture him bragging on his Mom who always
encouraged him and told him he could do anything.
If only my new friends’ mom had known this. If only she had realized that there were lots
of things her son could do or be. She
was only wanting “normal” but she never knew that there are far, far, better
things to be than normal.
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