Starting when my twins were about 3, my daytime routine became a series of “do-overs” requested by S. I had to follow a set order of instructions or else a do-over was sure to follow. I had to wait until she was completely buckled before I moved the car; and I’m talking about changing gears; not actual driving. Everything had to be done in a particular order. She needed to give me 10 kisses when she left for the day. She had favorite clothes that she insisted wearing; like her beloved footie pajamas. She wore the same exact dress for her Preschool photos for 3s and 4s program.
At preschool, the teacher was getting the children ready to go outside to play on a cold day. Unfortunately, I had neglected to send her with mittens that day. However, the classroom had a box of extra mittens and hats. Extra mittens were offered to S, who refused because they weren’t “hers” and insisted that “mommy will come and bring them to me!” The teacher told S that she had a choice. She could either wear the mittens from the bin or she could stay indoors. S reluctantly chose the spare pair.
You want to know the truth? I would have dropped everything and brought her the mittens! However, as I came to realize later, that if I’d done that, I would have been feeding her anxiety. I made many well-meaning mistakes in my efforts to make her ‘happy”, but when dealing with mental illness; it doesn’t work that way.
Her anxiety ruled the house. I never knew what would set her off — and at the time, I didn’t even know that it was anxiety. I just knew that she was rigid and didn’t like change. She had trouble transitioning from one activity to another. Even something fun! I had to build in extra time for the pleading and negotiating time. It wasn’t always successful and sometimes she would explode in a rage of violence and aggression. It started at around 4 years old. It wouldn’t last very long, and afterwards S was remorseful and so sad. She didn’t have the sophistication to explain what it was that set her off. We were clueless as well.
We still had no idea what was going on with our bright, loving, affectionate girl who would morph into a rage-monster who threw objects at my head, clawed at my arms and hands, and screamed like an animal. We sometimes had to keep a door between her and her sister to keep C safe. It was an awful and painful time for all of us. Especially S, who had this rage inside of her and it frightened her; and me as well.
I tried to find out what was going on with her, but all the information that I found at the time told me that she was too young for any kind of diagnosis. Psychiatric diagnoses are entirely subjective. There is no blood or medical test which will give you a definitive answer. A psychiatrist consults the current DSM-5 (a gigantic book which is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). It is THE diagnostic tool which mental health professionals use to evaluate the patient based on a list of symptoms. If the patient meets the required criteria; a diagnosis can be made and treatment and/or medication will be recommended. But it’s used primarily for adults and our daughter was too young. There was no diagnostic tool for her so we had t fit i where to turn to.
So, unfortunately, the answers we were looking for were still a long way away and we walked on that eggshell highway for a few more years.
But we were persistent and I was determined to help our daughter and the entire family. We wouldn’t give up. No matter what it took.
