My son was recently diagnosed with ADHD.
There is a lot to unpack in that sentence. I’ve tried a half-dozen times to write about this. I’ve struggled to explain how we got here, but I think the best place to start is with Corin.
Corin is a wildly smart and imaginative kid who thrives on love and affection and wows me with insights well beyond his years. He loves being the center of attention. He excels at reading and language arts, and many academic tasks come easily. He is obsessive in his interests (currently Pokémon, heaven help me) and lives deep in his imaginary worlds. He is sensitive and a keen observer of people, and he internalizes more than he lets on.
Corin also struggles mightily with emotional regulation and executive function. Because he is so bright, he is able to maintain well enough in school to avoid being flagged as struggling. His teachers know he isn’t performing to his full potential, but he’s a good kid who expends everything he has to meet expectations. That means he has nothing left by the time the school day ends. In the safety of our home, he releases pent-up negative energy in outbursts that leave the rest of us shell-shocked and exhausted. The cracked light switch and holes in his wall testify to the escalating rage that led us to get serious about finding answers.
We’ve sought parenting advice and tried every technique in the book. We’ve worked on his diet and sleep habits, limited his screen time, encouraged more physical activity and outlets like music lessons to build confidence. We’ve diffused essential oils and showered him with love and attention. He’s in regular therapy.
The bottom line is that a kid with an untreated ADHD brain does not have the control to use the strategies he’s learning when they’re needed most. We’re still in the process of figuring all this out, but treatment is necessary to calm Corin’s brain to a place where he can learn things like emotional regulation, impulse control, and follow-through on hard tasks. He needs help regulating his body’s hyperactive response to uncomfortable environments. While home is the place we’ve most felt the impact, his functioning in school and church have also been affected.
Part of my struggle in how to share this story is that I want to be clear I’m not seeking validation. We know we’re doing what’s best for Corin. I am sharing this chapter of our story because I know there are other families in our shoes, and because our family has learned the value of being open and real about our experiences.
We are not ashamed of Corin’s diagnosis. His brain works differently than most kids’. We’ve talked a lot with him about how amazing “weird” brains are, and how ADHD will give him a different perspective on the world. We’ve seen his relief at knowing there is a reason he struggles. After years of attending Buddy Walks and seeing the attention Lina gets, he’s feeling pretty good about his own brand of special. He knows we’re going to do whatever it takes to get him the help he needs. We talked about this blog, and he wanted me to share his story.
I’m also not going to lie about how hard all of this has been, and likely will be for a while yet. Being mom to my two children has demanded more of me than I could possibly have imagined. I have had to dig very deep, and grow beyond what felt possible.
I am tired. But I am also grateful and hopeful.
I am grateful for the incredible partnership of my husband. I am grateful for our support system of family and friends. I am grateful for compassionate and informed medical professionals and therapists. And always, I am grateful for my children. They are my heart, and remarkable people in their own rights. I am lucky they are mine.
I am hopeful because I know we will navigate this just as we have every other challenge that has come our way: with hard work, honesty, courage, and the confidence that God will give us exactly what we need for today.
Well, that, and plenty of coffee.