Let's Talk About Impulse Control and Autism

Impulse control has always been an issue with my little man. Now that he's getting older, it's getting even harder to help him restrain himself from acting out on impulse. This causes many issues. Let's discuss some of these issues, then we will move on to more about Impulse Control, and some ways we as parents and relatives can try and help our children.

People see this as bad behavior.

    While I really don't care what people think of me, I do care what they think of my children. To the untrained eye, my autie acting out impulsively looks a lot look he's misbehaving. In all actuality, he just can't help himself.

Other people think that reprimanding my child is helping.

    Family, friends, even strangers whom think they are helping will often times try correcting the child. Don't. All you're going to do is cause more guilt for the child. Preaching to the child about what they've just done is only adding more guilt to something they had no control over in the first place. If you want to help, try redirecting the child, or distracting the child. (Ie: Susie grabbed the kitten even though she was asked not to. Don't yell at her. Don't preach to her. Simply tell her the kitten is off limits, and then gravitate her attention towards something else.)

Think before speaking

    This is especially an issue in our home. Our eldest son has moved back home for a bit, and he rarely thinks before he speaks. (Much like Liam, lol.) For example, Liam will be getting on his nerves and he'll say, "go ahead, hit me if it makes you feel better." He's saying it in jest, trying to make light of a tense situation. However, all Liam hears is, "go ahead, hit me." He doesn't pick up on the social cues. He doesn't get the joke. Now Liam is swinging like a pro baseball player at his brother. Brother is angry, and Liam is upset because in his mind, he's doing what he was told. Now his brother, and often times his dad are yelling, because to them, Liam is acting out. It becomes monotonous having to break up conflicts like this. Conflicts that can be avoided if people just took more time to understand Autism and impulse controls. (I'm not saying my husband and son don't understand. They do. Hubby is always trying to keep the peace, and our eldest is out of practice as he's never lived here full time, so he's not completely up to par on our Autism world.)

Now that we've discussed some problems that arise from Impulse Control, let's talk about what it is. 

Impulse Control is the failure to resist an urge or temptation. Simply put, it's a thought that comes into one's mind, and the person then acts on it. There are five stages to impulse control. They are: 

Knowing the stages, what are some ways to help children learn from it, or even to help diminish the impulses?

Don't just focus on what the person did wrong, but also on what they should have done.

    So your child acted on impulse. Depending on what it was they acted on, you may or may not yell. It's okay, because NONE of us are perfect. That being said, try to remain calm. It's okay to tell the child what they did wrong, but make sure you also let them know what they should have done. Try to keep their attention. You don't have to force eye contact (trust me, they will zone out on you if you do,) but ask them questions to see if they understood what you said to them.

Work on listening skills

    This is HUGE in my home. If you are giving your child numerous instructions, they are only going to hear part of it, and start acting out that part. For example, if Liam has to clean his room, I have to say, "Pick up all your dirty clothes, then come back." After he does that, I will move on to the next directive. If you tell your child or the individual a few things at once, you are bogging down their brain. BREAK IT DOWN. I promise you, this works. I have been doing this for Liam for years, and he works so well when others do the same for him.

Repeat back

    Another great hint is to have the person repeat back what you asked them. That way you know they know what to do. This works great for when you want to expand on their directives. I do this when I give Liam two instructions. It helps him process more.

Practice waiting

   Yes, practice waiting. Waiting is especially hard for those on the spectrum. My son and I both hate to wait. (We're working on it.) A good way to practice is to use visuals. Find a symbol for wait, and then a reward symbol. Start out slow. Have them wait five minutes, or even two, quietly. Then they get the reward. (Whether it be stickers, screen time, whatever works.) Over time, you can expand the time. 

Make it a game

    Believe it or not, many childhood games are great ways to practice impulse control and waiting. Simon Says is perfect because the child has to wait on instructions from Simon, and is only supposed to do what Simon says. Follow the Leader, Red Light Green Light, and Duck Duck Goose, are all great games to practice impulse control.

Get the wiggles out

    Give them sensory input. A lot of sensory seekers lack impulse control because their bodies are always on the go. Giving these children appropriate sensory input will help keep their bodies in check, and may reduce some impulses. 

Work on emotions

    Teaching our children emotions helps as well. For example, acknowledging that some things cause anger is okay, but acting on that anger physically isn't. Talk about way to address that anger. Liam's BSC and us, are actively working on this with Liam as well. When he gets angry, all impulse control fails. Frustration is another one. Thinking of ways to help your child deal with frustration and giving them tools to use will help decrease frustration induced IC. 

In conclusion

    These are just some of the things that we are actively doing to help Liam control his impulses. What are some ways that have worked for you?

We Don’t Walk on Sunshine We Walk on Eggshells

Let me preface this with a disclaimer.

Neither I, nor my son, his father, or any of our family are looking for pity. What we are looking for is to educate the masses that mental illness DOES affect children. It also affects their families.

Tomorrow is the Vernal Equinox. (By the time this posts, it will be passed the VE.) We’re already experiencing longer days. That alone throws many of us for a loop. Especially Autism families. For families like ours, it’s something more.

If you’ve followed us for any amount of time, you know that my son is Autistic. He also lives with Pediatric Bipolar Disorder. I’ve spoken written many times about his major depressive cycles. As a matter of fact, the big one is right around the corner. That’s what Spring brings to our family each year.

However, I don’t believe I’ve ever written about his manic cycles. At least not in depth, nor on this blog. Which brings me to why I’m sitting here writing tonight. At the moment, my son is quietly playing with his action figures. This is the longest I have seen him sit still in days.

If you’re familiar with Autism, you know many Autistics don’t tend to sit still for long. They stim too. My son does both, but when he’s in a Manic cycle, they’re more extreme. I used to tell people that while I loathe Bipolar Disorder, I would take a Manic Cycle over a depressive one any day of the week. That changed this weekend.

Until just yesterday, I have never noticed what an extreme Manic episode was. You see, when my son (and many others) are in (what I thought to be a) manic cycle, they’re uber happy. They tend to talk non-stop, whether it makes sense or not. They ramble on, going from one topic to the next, and rarely stop for air. (I’m not exaggerating.) When you add Autism into the mix, stimming is virtually non-stop as well. My son doesn’t sit still at all when he’s manic (hypomanic.) Sleep is nil. It lasts for a few days or so. Many would look at my son during this time and think of Autism and ADHD.  So as you can see, this would be preferable to watching your loved one so depressed that they can’t function. As I recently learned, this in fact tends to be more of a hypomanic cycle.

Until yesterday I have only ever seen my son in a hypomanic cycle. I had yet to witness full blown mania. Without going into specifics and embarrassing my son, let me explain it in a way that I can still protect his privacy.

My son went from the above “symptoms,” to a grandiose version of them. Then suddenly, he snapped. Something so little, so trivial, sent him over the edge. I’ve seen my son have so many meltdowns, that they really don’t even phase me anymore, but this, this was different. Writing this right now is making me sick, but this, this was terrifying.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look in his eyes. His face read rage, fear, and utter lack of any idea of what was happening. Liam’s father wasn’t here. It was just him, my older (step) son, and myself.

This outburst (for lack of a better term) was directed at his brother. I was reprimanding Liam for something, and he saw his brother smile. That was it. That was all it took. He was on him like a feral dog on his first meal in weeks. Before my mind could fully process what was happening, I jumped up and yanked him off his brother, put him on the floor, and applied some of my weight for pressure.

He was screaming, but in just a few moments I saw MY SON come back to me. (You see, THAT wasn’t my son.) His body hitched with tears and I let him up. He ran into the kitchen and hid in a corner.

It took a bit for me to calm him down. I did what I always do after he has a meltdown. I let him tell me what he needs. (Which happened to be some squeezing and singing.) He kept repeating that it wasn’t his fault. That WE are bad and made him angry. That isn’t my boy. My boy always owns up to his actions. He always tells on himself if he does something naughty. But last night…. last night he blamed us. After that, he went straight into self loathing.

He kept repeating that he was “bad,” and “no good.” When he was more calm, I offered him a drink, “I can’t have a drink because I don’t deserve to drink.” My heart was breaking. I kept reassuring him that he wasn’t any of those things. My older son just sat on the couch, completely dumbfounded and shocked at what happened in a split second.

We both talked to him about it. We told Liam that we understand HE wasn’t in control. That he wasn’t in trouble, BUT that he HAD to try his very best to be in control. He went back to being hyper, stimmy, and talking.

A few hours later it happened again. This time because they were having a Nerf war, and his brother hit him with a dart. Within thirty minutes the whole situation was better. My husband came home. The only way he knew something horrible has happened was the looks on mine and our older son’s face. Liam was just playing and being Liam.

When Liam left the room I cried. I bawled and tried to explain what happened to my husband. Snot and tears were flying. I’ve rarely seen a clueless and helpless look on his face, but last night, that’s all he wore. Today we all have walked on eggshells. For fear of another manic outburst, or him delving to the bottom of a depressive cycle.

I know many may read this and think, “you’re the parents, you’re in control, not him!” The truth is, NONE of us are. Right now, Bipolar Disorder is in control.

So, tomorrow morning we’re putting in a crisis call to his doctor. We need to make a plan. We need to find new ways to help our son, because he, and us, do NOT deserve to live like this.

Edited to add: As of today he is doing much better. An appointment has been made with an emergency plan if need be.

Why Must Pain Be Necessary?

   Pita is giving Liam a shower, while I take a bath, and have some much needed "mental health time." I turned the on music on my phone, planning to drift into lyrics and forget how really sh!tty this day has been. It didn't help. Instead, I'm left ugly crying, and questioning my faith. Questioning life in general.

 I was raised with religion. My mother's family was Catholic. My father's Baptist. We were baptized, went to Sunday school and so on. Pita was raised Methodist. We have never attended church regularly, as service is too long for Liam.

    Each night before bed, from the time he could speak, Liam has said his prayers. When he was an infant, I said them for him. I too say prayers, and add special ones for those who need them. This isn't to say I don't sin. I cuss, sometimes like a sailor. But we are good people, and we are raising our son to be a good man. We believe....or so I thought.

    You see, when Liam cycles this far into his depressive mode, I question the existence of God. How could a man, so loving, so caring for those He created in His image, let one suffer so badly? Why are people murdered? Raped? Cancer? Mental Illness?

    I know, I know, we need the bad to appreciate the good. Seriously though. Today my son turned nine. There was no happiness. His father and I forced our smiles. Liam was blank and emotionless all day. We took him swimming and cray fishing, and his brain couldn't let him enjoy it. He didn't even eat his own cake because his stomach is so sick from this cycle. The sparkle that lights up his face is gone. Who could let someone suffer like that?

    But when I go to bed tonight, I will still pray. I will lay next to my son, listen to him say his prayers, and then I will silently beg God to help him through this cycle. To make it end sooner for him. I have to. If I don't have some sort of faith in something better, I won't have the strength to help my son through this.

    And before I close my eyes and attempt to get some sleep tonight, I will listen to this song. I won't let Bipolar Disorder ruin his life, or ours. I won't back down. Not ever.

Constantly Being on the Defensive Gave Me Wrinkles

    Yesterday we were headed out for a BIG day! By big I mean, a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese for Liam's cousin. A few errands, and then over to my parent's house to celebrate my dad's birthday.

    I had been prepping Liam for the last two days. Any earlier and he would have just perseverated on it so much, that school work would never have gotten done. I was mentally preparing myself as well. All that noise. All those kids. Other parents watching us. Judging us.

    Would he behave? Would the noise be too much for him? For me? So many thoughts were swirling in my brain as I got dressed for the day.

    I decided some makeup was in order since Liam didn't sleep at all the night before. Meaning, neither did I. I looked like death warmed over. As I looked in to the mirror to tidy up my nasty eyebrows, I saw something that pissed me off.....

    I saw a wrinkle. My FIRST wrinkle! No way was this happening to me?!?!? I have been dealing with gray hairs since I turned 30, but wrinkles? Not wrinkles! This surely means I'm getting old.

    I got as close as I could to the mirror, because I wasn't wearing my glasses. I'm as blind as a bat with out them. I was hoping that  I was seeing things. I wasn't. There it was. Smack dab in between my eyebrows. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. And that's when I saw it.....

 You can call me vain, you can call me what ever you want. But you also have to admit, that seeing that first wrinkle is a shock. If not, then you're not human. You should get that checked out, ya know?) I CAUSED THIS WRINKLE. I caused this blemish upon my very own face.

  When I feel disgust, or annoyance, or when I wear my "autism mom game face," I wrinkle my brows and my nose.  (

    I digress. My wrinkle. I made it. Sure did. You see, I have what Pita calls "the resting bitch face." You all know what that is. The face that says, "Don't speak to me. Don't look at me. Walk away." I don't call this the RBF, I call it my "autism mom game face."

I wear this face in stores. I wear it at appointments and therapies with my son. I wear it at school meetings, (even if they are over the phone and can't see me. It make me feel more powerful.) I wear it where ever we happen to roam. I wear it because I'm tired of the stares. I'm tired of people shaking their heads over my son's behaviors. (his autistic behaviors, not his typical kid behaviors.) I'm tired of people assuming he's "bad," and people not minding their own business.

    So you see, this face I wore like a badge, has in fact started ruining my face. My face pre Liam was always smiling. Smiling hides pain. Smiling makes others more comfortable. But my face post Liam is much different. NOT because I'm not happy, but because smiling makes people assume you care what they have to say. It makes them assume that you find life or a situation amusing. The RBF as pita calls it, tells people to piss off before they even have the chance to step on my last nerve.
It keeps people from giving me their opinions. It keeps them walking.

     I reserve my smiles for the people who get it. The ones that give me that "knowing nod," and move on. The ones that offer me a smile, I always smile back.  Or the parents who have the same AMGF (autism mom game face) I do, I smile at them. I want them to know that we're in the same "club," and I get it too.

    Will this stop me from using my AMGF? Probably not. It's like my armor. I would rather have wrinkles, than have people talk to me, when Liam or I are having a rough time. Does it make me more conscious of it? Sure does. I have caught myself giving Pita that very face a few times today. I quickly adjusted it. Why cause more wrinkles because of him?? :P

    I just wanted you to know that the internet is lying. I see memes all the time that say "Smiling gives you wrinkles, resting b!tch face keeps you pretty." THEY'RE LYING! RBF makes you wrinkly. It also makes you look grouchy! In my case, the latter works for me ;)

Some days are hard, others just suck

    I try, so very hard, not to let life get me down. We have been dealt a hard hand, but we persevere. It's life, and that's what you do. But I would be lying if I didn't admit there are days that kick me in the gut. Steal my breath, and stop my heart.

    I give you the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't sugar coat. I won't. I will respect my son, and his privacy as much as I can, while still trying to share our struggle, his struggle, so that others know they aren't alone. And so I don't lose my mind by bottling it up inside.

    Not long ago I spoke of his psychiatrist upping his medications (about 2 months ago) and how that wasn't kosher. It had adverse effects and he needed to be dropped back down to the lower dose. The wait list was hell, and until that time I took him off. I had too. It was either have a hyper, loud, stimmy child, or a child that was either crying or aggressive. I chose "normal" Liam.

    After 2 weeks, we saw the psych and he dropped it back down to the first dose. He asked me if I wanted to take him off completely. I thought that seemed odd, since Liam did so well on the low dose. So I told him no, just the lower one.

   That was over a week ago. The low dose is now affecting him like the higher dose was. Dr. S said this could happen with a dual diagnosis of autism and bipolar (and ADHD, and then some.) He said that sometimes treating one will make the other worse.

    He was right. So I took him off. I won't let him live that way. When your 8 year old BEGS you NOT to take his meds because, "They make me feel bad momma," you stop, and you listen.

    As I sit here tonight, and I see him sitting on the couch, I am broken hearted. He's not playing. He's not talking. He doesn't want anyone to bother him. He is refusing to play with his older brother. (who isn't here often, (he's 18 and how dare he have a life ;) )) and when he is here, Liam NEVER leaves him alone.) He is merely a shell of the boy that I once knew.

    It's not fair. It's not right. He is EIGHT years old. Why in the world does he have to deal with this? Why does his life have to be so hard? I always try to see the positive in life, but today I see none of that. Today I see a little boy who has more on his plate than those three times his age.

    Yes, I'm thankful for my son. For our lives, and for waking up to his beautiful face every morning. But I am pissed that this life has to be so hard for him. For me. For his father. Being a parent is tough. Being a parent that has no control over your child's life is even tougher. I can't make the Bipolar go away. I can't take away the pain. I can't make the cycles stop. Autism has nothing on Bipolar. Bipolar is evil and it robs my son of the happy life he deserves.

   Today I'm wallowing. Tomorrow I will get up and I will kick Bipolar's arse. For my son. Because nothing else matters, and he deserves to be happy.
 

Exclusion Rips My Heart Out

I sit at the kitchen table. Peeling and slicing apples for pie. Liam
is in the other room, happily playing games on the computer.
He's quiet. He's happy. I'm enjoying the "down" time.

I gaze out the window at the freshly falling snow. I admire the beauty
of the trees covered in  white fluff. I begin to hear
children laughing. Children screaming. Children having fun. Then I see
all the neighborhood children, dragging sleds and
embarking on the trek to the hill. They are going sledding.

A tear creeps from my eye, and I wipe it before it rolls into the
apples. Before I know it, it's followed by more. I am crying.
Silently I weep, while in the other room, my son has no clue as to my pain.

No one knocks on our door to ask Liam to play. No one thinks of
including him. This rips my heart out. Today Liam has no clue.
Other days he asks, "Momma, how come I always ask kids to play (sled) with me, but how come they don't ask me to play (sled) with them?"

You see, he knows. He knows he's not included. He knows he's
different. He knows the other children know this.

So even though, at this moment it isn't phasing him, it's enraging me.

I shove the feelings down. I bury them deeper. Liam begins chatting
about his game. His current perseveration is this game, so it's all he talks
about. I start to wash the dishes.

Now the children are heading home. Still laughing. Still happy.
Walking through my yard to get home. They don't need to walk
through my yard. It's actually the long way home.

I want to scream at them. I want to tell them to get the hell out of
my yard. But I don't.

I don't because they are just kids. Even though these are the kids
that call my child an "autistic r-word." Even though these are the kids
that call him gay. Even though these are the very same kids that make
our lives hell in the warmer months, I don't say a word.

I keep quiet because it does no good. I keep quiet because they are a
product of their environment. I keep quiet because they are kids. Just kids.

I have reached out to them. To their parents. It does no good. They
still bully my child. So, even though I know my son is
better off NOT playing with them, it still rips my heart out.

To have a child who's not wanted. Not included. Not cared about. It
hurts. It rocks you to your core, and it hurts like hell.

This life isn't always easy. For them, or for us. But we need to keep
on, because some things will never change.

I put a smile on my face and I move on. I push the anger down, for
another day. Because today I don't have the strength to
face it. Today, I just want to smile.

The Autism Life

Sometimes the Autism life is harder on me, than it is him.

When we got home from grocery shopping Liam couldn't wait to get back outside and "find friends." So much so, that he dumped the litter pan, and forgot to bring it in, because he saw "friends" walking by.

He came flying in, vibrating with excitement he yelled, "Momma, J and his cousin J are walking around. Can I go with them?" (they are 11 and 16, so I feel safe when Liam is with them.) I told him yes, and he beamed. He flew into his classroom/toy room, grabbed an old Halloween mask, slapped it on his face, kissed my cheek (twice as always) and flew out the front door.

I smiled to myself. Today seemed to be a good day. Though he was stimmy, talking a mile a minute, and ready to cry at the drop of a hat, the kids were accepting him. That makes it a great day.

Not 5 minutes later, Liam comes back in. Mask in hand, he yells, "Is A here?"  I reply, "No. Why?" He said, "Because J told me A was here for me, and I should come play with him. So I came home!"

I stopped putting away the canned goods and walked into the living room. I could feel my face turning red. My ears were on fire. Apparently J and J didn't want Liam and his silly mask walking with them, so they told him A was here looking for him. To get rid of him.

I said, "Liam, you saw A up the road helping the neighbors, so you knew he wasn't here. Did they not want to walk with you?"

My heart is racing, my anger is rising....

Liam, nonchalantly says, "well, maybe," and goes back to looking at his Magic cards.

I paused for a few moments. I was choking back my tears. Why can't kids accept that he is different? Why can't they accept that different is OKAY.

My voice wavering I say to Liam, "well, when J comes over later to play Magic cards with you, tell him to go play with someone else." (I am tired of my son being jilted, and only good enough when these kids are bored.)

Liam looks at me puzzled and says, "No, Momma!"

I reply, "well, then, what will you say?"

Liam says with a big grin, "I will say, LET'S PLAY J!"

The innocence crushes my heart. I choke on my anger.

You see, I am the one bothered by Liam being turned away. It didn't bother him. He didn't care. He is just happy when a kid seeks him out. That is how kind, and how gentle his heart is.

I AM BLIGHTING MY CHILD!!!!

I am trying to harden his heart to this cruel world, and it's not right.

In an effort to keep him from being hurt, I am intervening with what is right for me, NOT for him. He ISN'T a "typical" kid, and sometimes I lose sight of that.

We all make mistakes. None of us are perfect. We all only want what is best for our kiddos. Sometimes we don't always know what that is. Sometimes, we are wrong.

 <3 <3 <3 <3