No, you are not alone

No, you’re not alone…and no, those are not the worst stories I’ve ever heard.

I’m realizing that I need to say this more often than I do. I know I have been given the privilege as a doctor, but also as a mom, or a friend, to hear people’s stories…to enter into a very private place in their world…with their words and their stories to enter into their homes…to their high emotions, their fears…

I have long accepted that the Lord has given me my own stories with my own boys, in our home, in our hearts and in our fears, so that when I am listening to a story…hard stories…I can nod and truly understand, instead of trying to hold my face into a nonjudgmental look allowing them to go on. I am always hoping that in my face, in my eyes, they can see that I know…that I see the beautiful child in front of us…that I know they are not terrible parents…that inside both of them, the child and the parent, there is a deep relationship waiting to be brought back, to be nurtured again, to be filled with laughter and peace, instead of the painful cycle that has evolved of frustration and impatience and yelling and defeated giving in out of sheer exhaustion.

Sometimes these are terrible stories. My heart breaks to hear over and over again the words of suicidal thoughts…sometimes real, sometimes used to manipulate when frustrated, defeated kids have no other way of expressing their desire for help and understanding. Sometimes they are shocking stories filled with impulsive actions, with knives or saws or fists or hammers…they may have been using them in appropriate ways–working on a project, putting away dishes from the dishwasher, but then something snapped…someone said something that frustrated them, that hit a hot button in them, and instead of logically stepping away or thinking it through or seeing it from the other person’s vantage point, they felt anxious and out of control and couldn’t find that front part of their brain full of executive functioning, and instead they acted from the back, the fight or flight, and that knife, that saw, that fist, was now aimed inappropriately…

In these moments, yes, my heart is breaking, and yes, somewhere inside I am shocked, or used to be shocked. But, now, after hearing so many similar stories in my office, or from friends brave enough to share the real happenings in their homes, or yes, from inside my own home, I know…and I have seen how quickly these things can happen–how quickly things escalate from seemingly small things…

…one more homework problem that feels like a GIANT ticking time clock stealing away precious “playtime” on a school night;

…one seemingly innocent “helpful” comment, “don’t forget to put your snack in your backpack” that instead feels like another WEIGHT on the back of a day full of “helpful” suggestions reminding him again that he can’t do it right or on his own;

…or one more misinterpreted tone of voice that snuck out of an exhausted, overwhelmed, out-of-ideas-to-help parent that became a BLARING stab of disapproval to a hyper focused beaten down self esteem of an inner child desperately seeking the loving cheerleader voice from her parents…

I know that these are the moments when chaos ensues and somewhat normal nights turn into terrible nightmare moments that cause us to think, “Is this really happening?” “Is this really my child?” “Did those words really just come out of my mouth?” And in panic and reactionary thinking, we often do enter into the dark snowball of fight or flight reactions.

Then, as the dust settles, we are able to make it through, and maybe even sleep. And maybe even move on to another day that hopefully goes better, maybe even without blow-ups. But, then those same kinds of triggers return and it is all happening again. And we wonder, “Is this really happening?” “Is this ever going to get better?”

These are usually the nights when Brandon and I have fallen into bed, barely speaking, still reeling from the effects of all that may have happened in one of these out of control moments…

…and in my weakness, my desperation to be known and understood…instead of seeking comfort in the One who knows us and who made us and who desperately loves us…

…instead of praying, I am searching on the internet for others who can give me some comfort, who have been through this, who can bring hope…I search “Christian mom of ADHD”, “parenting ADHD or anxiety or anger or…

Many times I have not found much. I’ve often told friends that there seem to be so many blogs about autism or parenting autism…and there are… so many great ones. Maybe it’s easier to write about the sweet innocence that is often present in our autistic kids, even in the midst of frustration. Unfortunately, I think the parents of ADHD, anxiety/anger, executive function difficulties are too busy reeling and recovering to have time to write about their experiences…

So, this is my hope, and my prayer, and my resolve…

To say more often that next step, as yes, I am listening without a face of judgment, and with eyes of understanding and empathy and love for the beautiful hearts inside these tired, fearful, and often isolated parents and children…

To say, “No, you are not alone. And no, those are not the worst stories I have ever heard. And no, I don’t think your child is awful. And no, I don’t think it is your parenting that has caused this.”

No, you are not alone.

When our oldest son was still a toddler, the Lord placed it on our hearts to give him a verse…

We kept repeating the verse to him over and over again; telling him it was his verse. We would say it at bedtime. We would pray it over him. We would write it in chalk on the sidewalk in front of our house. And one day when he was still little, maybe three years old, we started to say it and he finished the rest! We knew it was in his heart. Now today, at 10 years old, it hangs over his bed at night. It is still a frequent prayer of ours for him. It is spoken over him when he is fearful as he falls asleep. It is prayed on nights before big or new events, which are always anxiety provoking for him. It is whispered to him if we see a look in his eye, a moment of fear or hesitation…

It is his reminder that, “No, you are not alone.” And yes, you are so, so loved.

Keenan’s verse is this…

Joshua 1:9 “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be dismayed (or worried); for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Before Jude was born…before we even knew the challenges he would face, the Lord laid on our hearts a verse for him. In his difficulties with speech and language, he doesn’t always understand it fully and can’t yet recite it, although he does know some of its parts. We still know this is the verse given for him. We wrote it on the back of the helmet he had to wear as an infant to help his head grow the right way. We still pray it over him before new or big situations, just like Keenan’s. And probably more frequently, we pray it to ourselves, as we are preparing for something new or difficult in his autism journey.

It is his reminder, and our reminder, that, “No, you are not alone.” And yes, you are so, so loved.

Jude’s verse is this…

Isaiah 41:10 “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed (or worried), for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

When we found out we were pregnant with Luke, this time we prayed for the Lord to give us a verse for him. I came across this one, with so many of the same reminders and promises of the other boys’. It has been written on the head of Luke’s bed to help him remember as he is falling asleep, frequently fighting the toddler battles of monsters and other unknown shadows in the darkness of the nights. We pray it over him, and we watch the many ways the Lord uses this verse in all of our lives.

It is his reminder, and ours, that, “No, you are not alone.” And yes, you are so, so loved.

Luke’s verse is this…

Deuteronomy 31:8 “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed (or worried).”

I hope and pray that whenever you need a tangible reminder that, “No, you are not alone,” the Lord will lead you here to these words He is speaking through me, as I bathe them in prayer for you. And you will be comforted. And you will feel that you are known and understood…And that I am cheering for you. And we will walk this together!

No, you are not alone.