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By Nora P. Goodman
Morocco World News
Portland, Oregon, May 12, 2013
In the womb he was different than the others. I would say "oh, maybe because he is a boy." His birth was different, longer and more painful, as if he didn't want to be born. He developed faster than my other children. Talked sooner and even walked sooner. "Perhaps he is a genius" I would say to my family and friends. By age 2 he became violent and suffered from separation anxiety. He never wanted to leave my side. His father's only way to discipline him was to hit him.
At age 4 he was in pre-school, and he would hit other children and even the teachers. He would scream, destroy things, and try to run away. I was so frustrated and confused. Perhaps he didn't want to be there? Perhaps he was too young to begin school? But the reality of the situation was that I had to work, and he had to go to school. I didn’t have a choice.
In daycare the teachers would say "come get your child, he is running away and hurting the other children." Time after time I had to leave work and wasn't able to continue my college degree because my son had needs that no one seemed to be able to understand or handle. They would say "we don't specialize in these kinds of behavioral problems."
During an appointment he terrorized people in the waiting room, and the police were called. I was subsequently referred to Child services for not being able to manage my son.
He was finally put into a contained pre-school for children with behavioral management deficiencies. This was a place that could handle my son, and more importantly, understand him and respond to his needs.
My son would never get asked to other children homes for play dates for fear he might hurt their child.
I began to teach Sunday school in his class just so he would stay in class and not disrupt the church service.
By age five he would throw himself in front of traffic just to get a thrill.
By age seven he was suicidal and threatened to stab himself in the chest with a kitchen knife. All knives and sharp objects had to be locked up.
I stopped telling his dad about his behavior when he came home from work, because the only way he knew how to deal with him was to beat him. He would pull him out of his bed at 10:00 at night and have him face the wall and hold cans up and every time he lowered his hands he beat the back of his legs with a belt. He would stand over him with a belt and beat him while he was in the fetal position. My son began to fear his father so much that when he came home he would have a panic attack. As much as I tried to intervene his father would tell me to stay out of it and let him handle it his way. How could I stand by and watch that? I could not. I begged his dad to get help, but his pride wouldn't allow it.
He began to say "when I get old enough I am going to kill my dad" We put a bell on our bedroom door to warn us if he tried to enter at night. Beating him like his father did was not an option for me. To me he wasn't a bad child he was a child that was different. His cries still echo in my mind when he would cry out to me to rescue him from the beatings of his father. "Mommy why didn't you help me?" I began to protect my son from his own father.
Family members would say "that boy just needs a good spanking, you’re not being strict enough with him." I attended many parenting classes but they didn't work. What had I done wrong with my son?
Some of the members of the church we attended would call him "the demon child" which naturally infuriated me. They prayed for him, that is, to cast out his “demons.” They would say his behavior was caused by generations of curses in my family and my father’s family. Because he was the first born of my husband they claimed that all the demons were passed on to him.
Teachers would tell me my son was one of the most depressed children they had ever seen.
A church counselor had told me that in all the years they counseled they had never seen a child act like mine.
His father clearly didn't know how to handle him without beating him. When I tried to intervene it put an immense strain on our marriage. My husband began to avoid our home and drinking himself to sleep every night. It was his way of dealing with it. He also began to blame me for our sons behavior.
My son was beautiful and looked normal...but on the inside he wasn't. He was suffering. But what was he suffering from? No one could diagnose him. Finally at age 7 when he tried to jump out of our van while I was driving down the freeway...I took him into the emergency room. I was exhausted. He was admitted to the Children’s Psychiatric ward for 9 days. Many tests were conducted. The doctors brought his father and I together and said our son was emotionally disturbed and suffered from Attention Deficit Disorder ADD, Anxiety disorder, severe depression, PTSD and a few more things that I don't remember.
Finally a diagnosis. The doctor also said that the only way he could help our son was for us to learn to handle him in a different way. This did not change my husband’s behavior, and the beatings continued. I finally made the decision to leave and take my son and other children with me.
It took 2 years after the divorce to get my son and my other children the help we needed. My son was placed in a contained classroom and was doing well. His father had given me full custody of the children, which I fully accepted. He re-married a year later.
When my son turned 13 we had an argument after his father had earned the right to joint custody. He took advantage of the situation and bribed my son to come live with him with all the things I couldn't provide for him: money, cell phones, computers and all other things that teenagers live for these days. He began to fill his head with garbage about me, and for five years my son was unreachable. How could that happen? I took my son away from his abuse, how could he go back there?
I was heartbroken. I continued to advocate for my son with the schools and counselors. Years would go by where I hardly ever saw or heard from him. When he visited me he would call me crazy, stupid and physically harm me and his younger brother. I told myself perhaps it was just the difficult teenage years. I asked a counselor why would he want to go back to his father and she said "Often times a child wants to please the abusive parent." I concentrated on my other children and feared what was going on at his father’s house, but to my surprise our son was excelling in his contained alternative private school. He had no social life and all his friends were virtual.
Then one evening, in his senior year of high school, he called me. "Dad kicked me out.," he said. I had been trying to advocate for him with his high school. He needed to take electives to graduate and at his high school they didn't offer them. He had never mainstreamed out into a regular school setting. He had never been in a classroom with more than ten students. How could they expect that? It was clearly setting him up for failure. I called an IEP meeting, and his father was invited to join. He chose to do so through the phone and not in person. He hated me and didn't want to be in the same room with me.
The team and I tried to find ways for him to get his electives, but his father still insisted that he suck it up and attend a large high school. Was he not paying attention all these years? I slipped a note to his counselor which said my son was now 18 years old and could make his own decision about where he wanted to take his classes. She said out loud lets allow your son to decide. My sons face lit up like the moon. He was finally able to make a decision of his own. That decision caused the breakdown of his relationship with his father, and he came to live with me. After that he went to to a different high school, but was, unfortunately, unsuccessful. We have been trying to find other ways of helping him to graduate, but in the meantime my son says he is happier than ever living with me. He thanked me for supporting him and going the extra mile to meet his needs.
He is now almost 19 years old, 6'4 and a very handsome man. He doesn't drive, he doesn't have a girlfriend. I have to remind myself that although my son looks normal, he has mental illness and I can’t expect him to do the things I want him to do. I have to continue to find ways for him to succeed within his limits. When we go outside it’s as if he is out of his natural habitat. He still doesn't feel safe.
I have had a lot of tolerance for his behavior because, well, that is what Mother’s do. They love unconditionally.
I recently joined NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Through this association I have been able to connect with a group of people who I can truly relate to. I am finally getting the education, support, and advocacy I need, as a mother and as an individual. They are a statewide Organization and even have a toll-free Helpline (800-343-6264), which is answered by trained volunteers and staff who provide information and referrals to mental health resources.
I wrote my story for those who are dealing with mental illness in their lives. I want to say "it's not your fault."
During an emergency on an airplane it is said to always put on your oxygen mask before your child's so you can be alert to help him/her. This also applies to helping your child with mental illness or special needs. Get involved in a support group. Be around tolerant and understanding people. You need the support of people going through similar experiences, and they need you.