Today His Anxiety Is…
My son has anxiety.
Real, serious, debilitating anxiety.
Before Cooper, I didn’t know that an eight year old could have anxiety.
I didn’t think they had anything to worry about.
I mean…he’s fed. He’s happy, loved, clean, cared for, safe. He lacks or needs for nothing.
And yet, on days like today, he can’t function.
He can’t hold it together. He can’t turn the page. He can’t build a bridge.
He can’t move on.
He can’t think about anything else.
It’s like a video in his brain is paused. A CD that is skipping.
The same thoughts, over and over again.
Each minute, he gets more anxious. More worked up.
His anxiety has a hold on him so tight and won’t let go.
I barely recognize him honestly. It grips onto him.
I can tell by his eyes. They are wild. Darting, looking around.
His arms flapping. Jumping.
We try to change the subject. That is our job as his parents. We need to reset him. We need to get him to move on. We need to start his day over.
We do all the tactics they teach you in therapy. I call it autism school.
We stay calm. We smile. We changes our voices to soothing. We talk slowly and quietly.
We acknowledge the anxiety. The Kindle he shows us every 5 seconds. Over and over again.
We smile as he uses his talker to tell us what he wants. Over and over again.
We use visuals to try and give him a sense of control. We make a list of our day on a white board.
We do first then language.
We offer a bribe. We offer a reward.
We try to keep our sanity.
And for the first hour we are good. The screaming is something we can handle at first.
We use our tactics.
We watch his anxiety rise.
We ultimately fail. If we can’t get him out right away, within the first five minutes, we will fail.
We watch him fall to the ground. Drenched in sweat. Screaming. Rolling.
Eventually he starts hitting his body. Mostly his head. Sometimes his bare stomach.
Over and over again.
Hot tears stream down his face.
He will always be pointing to the door. Trying to tell us what he wants.
His voice alternates between high pitched and an animal like grunt.
I gather him up. Hold him.
I tell him ‘one more sleep.’ and ‘first we have school and then we will go.’
I promise him that I hear him. And that mommy is trying.
I tell him what he needs to hear. What would work for any other child.
One without anxiety.
If I can get him out, and yes, I say if, I usually breathe a tentative sigh of relief.
Because I know that it will return.
Tomorrow it will be back. Or even later today.
Every day it is something.
Today, anxiety is wanting to go swimming at a hotel. We made the mistake of telling him about our family Christmas tomorrow. We needed him to try his swimsuit on to make sure it fit.
He wore it to school yesterday.
His talker permanently stuck on, ‘I want pool.’
He stands by the door. He screams in my face.
It’s a text message to his therapist wishing her luck.
Today, anxiety won.
It probably will tomorrow too.
Most days we are just helpless. Just managing the best we can.
I never knew before Cooper that a child’s anxiety could be so debilitating.
I never knew that there was such a fine between joy and anxiety. That a child could want to do something so badly that it actually destroys them. That the things they love could actually be negative.
I didn’t know that all of the experiences that are supposed to be fun for our family could be plagued by anxiety. And ultimately be our hardest days.
I didn’t know that no one in our world would understand what it is doing to our family. That we just can’t work through it. That is has a lasting effects for days. That it just doesn’t go away.
Or that his anxiety would draw a dark line between the rest of the world and us.
I didn’t know that our son’s anxiety could cause our family PTSD.
I guess I just didn’t know how badly it could affect our family.
And I wish I still didn’t.
Tomorrow, we are taking our family to a hotel. Cooper will go swimming. And Jamie and I will hold our breath pretending that it is fine. Praying that he will enjoy something he is so excited for and wants to do so badly.
Because that is what we do.
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I loved reading this! Let’s all love the little things! Going to the pool is super exciting!
this is going to sound horrible however here is goes. I want to cry reading this finally after years now I have a understanding of all of my son’s behaviors as a child. No one told me it was anxiety no one explained it to me the way you just have. My son is now 18 and suffers horrible anxiety as a young adult it effects everything he does. I had no idea that he was also suffering as a child. What you describe in detail was his childhood what I lived with every day. We had good days but mostly days like that. He does not have autism that being said he still could not explain or help me understand what was going on for him. I now know I now see. It breaks my heart that I did not see it all those years. I am sitting here thinking of all the would have should have scenario’s if I had known. Thank you thank you thank you for posting this. For helping me finally understand.
Thank you for letting us share in your journey- I don’t think I could have done as well! I’m an advanced degree RN who has never seen a non- verbal, sweet, loving kiddo like Cooper…my question is….are YOU getting enough sleep with a newborn? When I had our 2, added 4 bonus children I cannot recall resting or sleeping! Just look after your own health,OK? How do you/ can you divide your time fairly equally? Thanks again,MaryLynn