I have a nail-biter. My 10-year old middle son is also the family’s Head of Health & Safety. We can rely on him to scan the environment for signs of potential danger, and ensure that his less risk-averse sisters land safely before launching themselves off rocks, or out of trees. For the most part, his vigilant mind has not been an obstruction to his sense of exploration and enjoyment. Indeed, his sensitivity to pain has made him highly empathic. He is a boy who loves and cares deeply.
Last year, however, his anxiety sky rocketed. As a family, we’d just emerged from a very difficult year. This, combined with the panic of the pandemic and a protracted period of socially-distanced schooling meant that our cautious albeit highly sociable son was struggling. School was always a place he’d enjoyed likening it as much to social club as to a place of learning. But towards the end of last year – during the school assessment week - I found myself having to coach him out of the car through tears and protestations. He was terrified of not ‘fitting in’, of not being liked by his teacher, of not being ‘good enough’, of failing his tests. All the ‘what ifs’ laid stacked before him like a row of teetering dominoes. One tiny knock and his whole sense of self might be strewn across the floor.
It is over-simplistic, possibly pointless, to try to separate one state of mind from another, or to try to pinpoint a singular cause. There were multiple factors at play, including a plummeting sense of self-esteem and a hostile classroom environment. That he was highly anxious, however, was not in doubt. He needed help but didn’t know how to ask for it. To add to the confusion, anxiety in our son manifested not as helplessness, tears or tummy aches, but as meanness and aggression - normally directed at his sisters or at us.
In our attempts to address the injustices at home and ‘clamp down’ on unkindness, we only added to the problem. For a brief period, our son repeatedly became the object of our and his sisters’ admonitions and frustrations only confirming, in his mind, his deepest fears that he was not liked and did not belong. His increasing defensiveness helped us to snap out of this negative cycle as we realised that there were only two options left for him: either ‘there is something wrong with me’ or ‘there is something wrong with everyone else.’
Something had to change. As the grown-ups in the family, we realized it was us. With a lot of deep breathing, my husband and I shifted from a position of ‘you are the problem’, to ‘we see you struggling and we want to help’. With this shift, our son was able to find the space he needed to pivot and to put words to some of the challenges he was facing. Our daughters, while at times still highly frustrated by his behaviours, began to take their cue from us and to respond with a little more understanding and patience towards their brother.
It’s important to mention that in the midst of all this, our son was officially diagnosed with ADHD which was clearly a contributing factor to his struggles at school, his confidence and consequently his levels of anxiety. This diagnosis brought us greater understanding and relieved our own confusion with regards to some of his 'stuckness' and stubbornness. In doing so, it contributed to our capacity to adapt our stance towards him which in turn helped soothe his anxious mind and calm his defiant attitude. All this, before any form of medication or other intervention was even considered.
He is currently on a low dose of Ritalin which helps his levels of focus, attention, and concentration. Many other factors have changed too and I am convinced that these have led to a very different year at home and at school so far. Importantly, he is and feels liked, understood, and valued by his teacher. The ongoing support of his parents - who were (eventually!) able to see beyond the ‘impossible’ behaviours and advocate for a child who was anxious and struggling – was paramount to his recovery.
Identifying the ADHD certainly helped but just as significant, was remembering our own roles in offering safety and emotional regulation. Our own state of mind, and our demeanour as parents, needed to change first. Only then could we offer the lonely, frightened and anxious little boy a way out of these sticky, mean and alienating behaviours.