My husband and I have done so much work trying to destigmatize mental health needs with our kids. We are a blended family, and therefore the foundation of our marriage is unfortunately filled with trauma from previous relationships. We knew early on that our kids would require therapy of some kind to work through the pain and disappointment that often accompanies divorce. When our daughter (his youngest from his first marriage) began to exhibit behavior issues both at school and at home, we assumed that it was her way of processing how hard it was to go from one house to another. She thrives on routine, and spending one week with her biological mom and brother and then one week in our full house of seven was really hard for her. I mean let’s be honest – that would be hard on anyone, let alone a six year-old. After a year of trying all the tricks we knew, we sought out professional help. Shortly thereafter, she was diagnosed with ADHD and Oppositional Defiant Disorder. It wasn’t really a difficult diagnosis to swallow because she pretty much checked all the boxes of that disorder according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (the holy grail of mental health professions). They sent us home with Adderall and told us to come back for monthly appointments to check in. The stimulant medication certainly helped with the hyperactivity and focus, but not for the “defiance” or weekly meltdowns she would have for (fill in the blank…..anything from itchy clothing to her milk not being cold enough could send her into a tailspin). We tried our best but after years of walking on eggshells, my husband and I were sometimes shells of our normal selves if she was having a bad week.

After our move from Louisiana, a state with little to no mental health care support beyond basic therapy, we sought out a new doctor to monitor her Adderall. It was this person who first threw out the word “autism”. While familiar with the typical signs of autism, for some reason I just couldn’t see it in my own child. I was not in denial, because I don’t view autism as a “bad thing”, but I guess when you’re just so close to the person, it’s hard to have an objective viewpoint. A nine hour comprehensive psychological evaluation confirmed that doctor’s suspicions. The diagnosis came as a relief to our daughter, because it simply confirmed that there was nothing wrong with her or innately bad about her behavior…she just processes sensory and information and experiences differently than we do. We would now have to relearn how to parent a neurodiverse child.

I got home from that appointment and broke down into a puddle of tear-soaked guilt. How could I have missed it? How could I have succumbed to so many moments of frustration when she couldn’t help it. There were so many times that I took her behavior personally and I allowed it to put a wall up between us as a way for me to protect my emotions. This may sound crazy but I have yet to find a human that can hurt my feelings as much as one of my kids can. Motherhood is sometimes a mindfuck in that way. I know that I need to let this go. I know we were doing the best we could with the very limited knowledge and resources that we had at the time. I want to blame the system, and I know I can and should. It’s very broken and there are so many kids and families suffering because of it.

But dammit….I wish I could turn the clock back and do so many things differently. Be better for her.