And being someone who spent the first five years of the Kid's life or so working in various playgroups, nurseries, studying Early Childhood...it frustrates me that I never saw those quirks as signs a lot sooner. If I had have done, maybe she wouldn't have hit such an emotional state. If I had known about Asperger's sooner (other than knowing it was a thing that meant some children, usually boys were good at maths and a bit geeky), if I had any idea at all of what it was about, we could have managed things differently. But I didn't, and emotional wreck she was for a very long time. I guess this blog will act as some sort of record of the trials and tribulations of her experience and mine. I hope eventually that she will contribute to it and take some sort of pride in bringing the Aspie out of the closet - quite literally ;)
I feel sometimes that we travel through long dark tunnels of stress, which seem to last for weeks or months before finally seeing a light, which is then so bright and blinding that it shines with all it's glorious might, and burns out in moments. But how worth it those blinding moments are. For all the efforts, the consistent, constant trying, the feeling like every day is me and the kid are alternating between that rock and that hard place (usually her pet Rock called Welky and the hard place being her stubborness), that moment of *finally* breaking through and knowing that it was worth it. See - I'm only just really learning how to cope and manage the Kid, and in turn, trying to demonstrate/encourage/teach her to be able to understand and manage her self, herself.
So let me bring you up to speed. She never really showed any developmental delays or issues - other than not uttering anything more than a single "Idiots" towards myself and her dad at 10 months old until she was 21 months old and finally started talking, then she just didn't look back. I was never worried about her not talking, she understood so much from being just a baby - it was said to me by a number of people that she had an old soul behind her eyes, she never wanted for anything other than to be wrapped up safe and understand what was going on. I guess nine years later, nothing has really changed in that department...She was always pretty shy, and preferred to have just one or two close friends or play on her own. She was most happy in adult company, and her dad and I being Uni students until she was five, meant that she did spend a lot of time hanging out in adult company, surrounded by philosophy, psychology, sociology, linguistics related literature.
Before the age of 18 months, she would spend hours, yes HOURS a day flicking through picture books, cover to cover, over and over again. She would go through her whole shelf, one by one, and then start all over again when she got to the end of the last book. How we laughed when any visitors thought it was cute that she would bring them a book to read to her... little did they know what they had let themselves in for...one book would turn into armfuls, sweetly dumped in their laps as she firmly took up her reading position.
(Insert about two years of family breakdown between the ages of three and five and no contact with her father after the age of four - another post for another day).
At five years old she started primary school and that's when the trouble really started. All those quirks of hers, that personality that so far had for the most part been so influenced by myself and her father, that was proud to be clever, that took it upon herself to learn things far beyond what you expect a young child to even consider was suddenly something for her to hide, be ashamed of, to not let anyone see - well, that's what I thought at the time anyway. She very quickly developed a number of issues which took years to understand and start to get on top of. Night Terrors, bed wetting, temper tantrums, repetitive arguments, general increase in attitude and decrease in respect (yes, you may cringe to hear it described like that, but that's how it seemed at the time, I have a better understanding now and will revisit those terms another time).
At seven years old, end of year one and her report boasted 100% in marks and effort across all areas and subjects. It didn't seem unusual to me - her dad was like that with academia, anything less was a worldwide disaster in his mind. An old acquaintance who's daughter was similar, suggested I take a look at the National Association for Gifted Children (NAGC) who are now Potential Plus UK. So I did. I paid the nominal fee to do an online test with them, thinking "Right, well, how easily am I going to be duped into thinking that my kid is one of these genius kids and pay for some membership for a few leaflets". She came out with an 84% ranking, placing her in the top 5% among her peer age group. Then I started thinking back over her Dad's childhood and academic life - he finished Uni with an Upper First Class Honors, something less than 5% of students achieve. I started reading about GnT kids, I started seeing the similarities. But it still didn't explain a lot of the 'problems' that we had. So she was bright, that's great. We didn't have the usual struggles of encouraging her to do homework, to read, to try and pick up a pen and write - she did it all herself. Cool - most parents can only dream of a kid that was apparently *so easy*. But she was far from.
Just before she turned seven, we went to our favourite hideaway, camping for ten days in a community where time, structure and routine exist in a very loose format. It was our place to have fun, be free, let go, for her to reset herself and forget about all that academic stuff - enjoy some music, dancing, creativity, running around all day barefoot in a field with other children. But for her, it caused a meltdown which finally made it clear to me, things weren't as straight forward as they seemed, that I needed help with her and she needed help to just 'be'. What caused the meltdown? Well, at the time it was in the disco, with loud music, lights, lots of people dancing (retrospectively I see things differently). The kid never really varied her dance moves - she had one. Spinning. She span and span and span for years. Until that night, when she was aware that no-one else was. Her argument? "I don't know how to dance. I don't know what they are all dancing and how to do it like that!". There was just no explaining to her that it was just random, free, drunken dancing, there were no moves, no set style or routine, it was just however you want to move your body at all. She freaked, I ended up carrying her out like a log on my hip to the safety of our quiet camp, where she attempted to kick someone's chair into the fire. We yelled at each other, she screamed, I cried. I sent her to the tent to sleep and we left it in a horrible, stressed, emotionally charged and negative way. I spent the rest of the evening coping to terms with knowing that upon our return, we needed help.
The start of year 2 and her eight birthday, and her new teacher was the Senco. And so began the most stressful start to even having my concerns acknowledged and the phase to which I am hopefully coming to an end to soon. It's taken 2 and 3/4 years to get from asking to speak to someone about assessments, to being near the top of the waiting list. And one huge dive on the rollercoaster that felt like it was never going to climb again.
Oh and why do I call her the RollerCoaster Girl? When she was a toddler (and even now) she adored Gwen Stefani, one of her songs being called 'The Real Thing'. One particular part of the song always seemed like it was written for the Kid:
The Real Thing - listen to it here x
Before the age of 18 months, she would spend hours, yes HOURS a day flicking through picture books, cover to cover, over and over again. She would go through her whole shelf, one by one, and then start all over again when she got to the end of the last book. How we laughed when any visitors thought it was cute that she would bring them a book to read to her... little did they know what they had let themselves in for...one book would turn into armfuls, sweetly dumped in their laps as she firmly took up her reading position.
(Insert about two years of family breakdown between the ages of three and five and no contact with her father after the age of four - another post for another day).
At five years old she started primary school and that's when the trouble really started. All those quirks of hers, that personality that so far had for the most part been so influenced by myself and her father, that was proud to be clever, that took it upon herself to learn things far beyond what you expect a young child to even consider was suddenly something for her to hide, be ashamed of, to not let anyone see - well, that's what I thought at the time anyway. She very quickly developed a number of issues which took years to understand and start to get on top of. Night Terrors, bed wetting, temper tantrums, repetitive arguments, general increase in attitude and decrease in respect (yes, you may cringe to hear it described like that, but that's how it seemed at the time, I have a better understanding now and will revisit those terms another time).
At seven years old, end of year one and her report boasted 100% in marks and effort across all areas and subjects. It didn't seem unusual to me - her dad was like that with academia, anything less was a worldwide disaster in his mind. An old acquaintance who's daughter was similar, suggested I take a look at the National Association for Gifted Children (NAGC) who are now Potential Plus UK. So I did. I paid the nominal fee to do an online test with them, thinking "Right, well, how easily am I going to be duped into thinking that my kid is one of these genius kids and pay for some membership for a few leaflets". She came out with an 84% ranking, placing her in the top 5% among her peer age group. Then I started thinking back over her Dad's childhood and academic life - he finished Uni with an Upper First Class Honors, something less than 5% of students achieve. I started reading about GnT kids, I started seeing the similarities. But it still didn't explain a lot of the 'problems' that we had. So she was bright, that's great. We didn't have the usual struggles of encouraging her to do homework, to read, to try and pick up a pen and write - she did it all herself. Cool - most parents can only dream of a kid that was apparently *so easy*. But she was far from.
Just before she turned seven, we went to our favourite hideaway, camping for ten days in a community where time, structure and routine exist in a very loose format. It was our place to have fun, be free, let go, for her to reset herself and forget about all that academic stuff - enjoy some music, dancing, creativity, running around all day barefoot in a field with other children. But for her, it caused a meltdown which finally made it clear to me, things weren't as straight forward as they seemed, that I needed help with her and she needed help to just 'be'. What caused the meltdown? Well, at the time it was in the disco, with loud music, lights, lots of people dancing (retrospectively I see things differently). The kid never really varied her dance moves - she had one. Spinning. She span and span and span for years. Until that night, when she was aware that no-one else was. Her argument? "I don't know how to dance. I don't know what they are all dancing and how to do it like that!". There was just no explaining to her that it was just random, free, drunken dancing, there were no moves, no set style or routine, it was just however you want to move your body at all. She freaked, I ended up carrying her out like a log on my hip to the safety of our quiet camp, where she attempted to kick someone's chair into the fire. We yelled at each other, she screamed, I cried. I sent her to the tent to sleep and we left it in a horrible, stressed, emotionally charged and negative way. I spent the rest of the evening coping to terms with knowing that upon our return, we needed help.
The start of year 2 and her eight birthday, and her new teacher was the Senco. And so began the most stressful start to even having my concerns acknowledged and the phase to which I am hopefully coming to an end to soon. It's taken 2 and 3/4 years to get from asking to speak to someone about assessments, to being near the top of the waiting list. And one huge dive on the rollercoaster that felt like it was never going to climb again.
Oh and why do I call her the RollerCoaster Girl? When she was a toddler (and even now) she adored Gwen Stefani, one of her songs being called 'The Real Thing'. One particular part of the song always seemed like it was written for the Kid:
"I never know what will come next, so emotional, you're so complex. A rollercoaster built to crash, but I still love to have you around".
The Real Thing - listen to it here x
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