From Wikipedia: Self-stimulatory behavior, also known as stimming[1] and self-stimulation,[2] is the repetition of physical movements, sounds, or repetitive movement of objects common in individuals with developmental disabilities, but most prevalent in people with autistic spectrum disorders.[2][3] It is considered a way in which autistic people calm and stimulate themselves.[2] Therapists view this behavior as a protective response to being overly sensitive to stimuli, with which the individual blocks less predictable environmental stimuli.[4] Sensory processing disorder is also given as a reason by some therapists for the condition.[4] Another theory is that stimming is a way to relieve anxiety, and other emotions.[5]
I'm in tears, but understand, they are tears of relief. Mostly. I've been noticing this for years. She's not easy. Lizzy. She's not. Never has been. She stood out. In preschool, in gymnastics, in swim. Now in first grade, she can't sit still, can't focus, appears not to hear her teacher's instructions, tries to follow them, only to forget or get distracted. She's becoming sad and discouraged and despondent. She says she's lonely often. And it kills me. And I descend into the darkness. You see... she's me. And now the guilt comes. Some tears are from guilt.
"Is there a genetic component to ADHD?" I ask her doctor, "because 3 different friends, all of whom happen to be doctors, say I'm classic ADD." The doctor looks at me and smiles gently. "Yes," she replies, "to both."
Two weeks ago this is me cleaning my apartment. I always intend on doing one thing at a time. I start by folding laundry only as I put the towels in the bathroom I begin to clean the toilet. But while cleaning a toilet I spot a toy in the tub and return it to Lizzy's room where I decide her toys need reorganizing. Only I find one of William's toys and begin reorganizing his closet. Only to find a cup he used for water and walk it into the kitchen where I begin doing dishes. When I realize I'd actually started with laundry so I head to my room to put some more away and try to do things one by one, but I spot some books that I take to put on my shelf on the living room and decide the carpet looks terrible so I begin to vacuum. I'm now frustrated at my number of undone tasks. Sigh. Start over Mariska. One room at a time.
"I gave all the money to your sister to hold at Knott's Berry Farm, you'll only lose it." It's my mom, sending us off for a fun day at an Amusement Park with my cousin. I know what she says is true. I lose or forget everything. My books, work, pencils, permission slips. I can never remember to bring home my homework or whatever handout I was to give my mother. I start out listening to the teacher and realize I've lost track of what she was saying. Where did I go then? I'd forget my head if it weren't attached. Teachers say I'm smart if I'd stop staring out the windows. School is painful and lonely, even though I tell my mom it's "good" or "fine" when she asks. I hear this same "good" from Lizzy when I ask about her day. I'm in the darkness. It didn't get better until I was 12.
"Let's start with these surveys and if they come back as I think they will... let's begin talking about solutions for ADHD. I don't know yet about Sensory Processing Disorder or anything else, that's for the OT, but I don't think it will be too hard to help Elizabeth". I come back into the light. I did okay. I excelled in school and made friends. Eventually. She's getting help early. Doctor is on board, teacher THANKED me for taking this step, school counselor is full of wonderful tips and solutions, private therapist will help any way she can. I can help her want to go to school. My wonderful friend, who is experiencing this with her son, is full of encouragement. Her son now LOVES school, is making friends, is thriving. I can do this. ELIZABETH can do this. She is amazing.
Lizzy, at home, while she has trouble completing tasks because she gets distracted by... well... anything, is so loving and funny and bright and cheerful. She is my sunshine. She reminds me of my own words if I forget - "You say there's always something to be thankful for" or "mom, be positive, you always tell us if you're positive, you'll find something to be joyful about." I want that Lizzy at school. At soccer. I told her I'm developing a story about "Super Lizzy" and her alter ego "Shy Girl" so we can learn how to being Super Lizzy everywhere. "I want her at school mom, not shy girl," she says.
The Tooth Fairy (aka her father) left her a note saying she has a little magic in her. She does. She may be difficult. She may have an uphill battle her classmates don't. But she is magical. My little fairy. She makes signs in my office for people to join her "love and hugs" club so everyone can feel loved. She reaches out the girl who bullied her when the girl gets stung by a bee and they become friends. In soccer, after she melted down and she's over heating and I tell her then if she's to stop playing, she has to stand by and cheer on her team, not leave to play with her friends, but I AM proud of how much she did play - she gulps water, cheers her team and shouts "coach! I'm ready to go back in," looks at me and says "mom, I'm not a quitter." The teacher she totally responded to at her summer program said yesterday, as I dropped off the Vanderbilt survey, "of course she's sad at school... she's special. no one understands her."
But I am blessed. That teacher SEES her. Her 1st grade teacher SEES we can help her. My boyfriend Jason... perhaps due to his own ADD or his years of working with special needs students... has a way with her. He's amazing with her. She responds to him like no other. She's becoming rather bonded to him. She says he understands her. And I'm blessed FOR her. This little mirror of me. The tools I had to develop have made me stronger. If there's more than ADHD... we'll tackle that too.I'll give her the same tools and more, only younger, and she'll be stronger. So much stronger than I am. And so magical. I'm seeing the light again. Perhaps it's her wings or her fairy dust. She'll be stronger.
She'll be SUPER LIZZY.
The Tooth Fairy (aka her father) left her a note saying she has a little magic in her. She does. She may be difficult. She may have an uphill battle her classmates don't. But she is magical. My little fairy. She makes signs in my office for people to join her "love and hugs" club so everyone can feel loved. She reaches out the girl who bullied her when the girl gets stung by a bee and they become friends. In soccer, after she melted down and she's over heating and I tell her then if she's to stop playing, she has to stand by and cheer on her team, not leave to play with her friends, but I AM proud of how much she did play - she gulps water, cheers her team and shouts "coach! I'm ready to go back in," looks at me and says "mom, I'm not a quitter." The teacher she totally responded to at her summer program said yesterday, as I dropped off the Vanderbilt survey, "of course she's sad at school... she's special. no one understands her."
But I am blessed. That teacher SEES her. Her 1st grade teacher SEES we can help her. My boyfriend Jason... perhaps due to his own ADD or his years of working with special needs students... has a way with her. He's amazing with her. She responds to him like no other. She's becoming rather bonded to him. She says he understands her. And I'm blessed FOR her. This little mirror of me. The tools I had to develop have made me stronger. If there's more than ADHD... we'll tackle that too.I'll give her the same tools and more, only younger, and she'll be stronger. So much stronger than I am. And so magical. I'm seeing the light again. Perhaps it's her wings or her fairy dust. She'll be stronger.
She'll be SUPER LIZZY.
