…before they leave home. And Sticks only has one more year…time’s a’wasting.
- Everything is not a life or death matter. Perspective counts for something.
- Be nice to older folks and people who drive you crazy.
- Listen sometimes.
- Appreciate what you have right now instead of wanting more.
- Own your own mistakes and your successes. Don’t blame other people or let them take the credit.
- Order your own damn fast food.
About a year ago we began an intensive training program with Sticks to teach him that if he wants fast food or a Starbucks’ frappuccino, he’ll need to order it himself. He is utterly phobic about walking up to a counter and ordering food.
I don’t understand this. Truly. Here’s a kid who can play awesome drum licks, dance in a foreign country in front of nine judges and a huge audience by himself, compete like a tiger at anything he sets his mind to…yet…
He’s completely flummoxed by a fast food order. We seriously began to be afraid that he would starve to death in college rather than overcome his phobia of speaking aloud to the person behind a counter.
He’s making progress. I’ve actually seen him order a frappuccino on his own and heard him order a pizza on the phone at least once. So I know it can be done. But my curiosity made me consider what exactly it is that causes him to have such anxiety over something so simple.
The conclusion that I came to through some discussions with Bigdog is that we protected him. Overprotected him. When we saw how shy and anxious he was with one-on-one transactions we stepped in and took over for him far too long. He got a message that his fears must be rational because we would intervene. That intervention allowed him to become comfortable letting us speak for him. When we realized our error and started to step away from that behavior, it created serious anxiety.
This was our mistake. Joking aside, I’m truly glad that we noticed and did something about it before it went any farther. But that conclusion raised some other questions and concerns for me as well that I really haven’t answered well. I’m still working on it.
Where else have we stepped in for him when we should’ve stepped back? Where else have we inhibited him by apologizing for impulsive behavior, protecting him from consequences? I know that inside our family we have not allowed ADHD to be an excuse for anything. I also know that we have been in social situations where we have explained away impulsivity with the ADHD explanation. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have consequences. It does mean that the consequences usually came through us instead of his own social circle.
I think we unintentionally created more anxiety for him by protecting him from the social consequences of the impulsivity of his ADHD with his peers. I regret that and if I had it to do over again, I’d step farther back from him and let him fall more often.
This instinct to overprotect didn’t come out of nowhere. I have serious rejection baggage from my teen years — actually, through many of my adult years, too. I wasn’t hyperactive at all as a kid, but I had a mouth that wouldn’t quit and more words than friends. It’s funny how pain like that stays fresh even years later. My 30-year high school reunion comes up in two weeks and I haven’t committed to going because I’m not sure I’m up for shelling out $150 to stand on the sidelines watching the same little groups chat over cocktails and canapes.
People just quit talking to me. Not surprising since I talked at them so much they didn’t really feel any internal compulsion to add to the word vomit I was spewing everywhere. But later on, and particularly in the last 10 years, I have learned to hold my tongue somewhat and actually LISTEN to what others say. Not always. But I’m better than I was.
Still, that whole frameset of my life is one that I don’t remember with a lot of fondness. Between my own mouth and my father’s choice to have a very public affair with the president of the local PTA when I was a junior in high school, that time of my life makes me cringe.
It’s not altogether surprising that I turned around and did my level best to protect Sticks from those same cringe pangs, but it wasn’t the right thing to do. I have one more year. Let’s see if I can step back and get out of the middle.
(Danah Boyd and LizDitz inspired this post — it’s been fermenting for awhile, but they sparked it. Be sure to read Danah’s excellent list and post…)
