My life took an unexpected turn when my husband left me after 2 1/2 years of marriage and only four months into my pregnancy. It was a devastating blow that forced me to reassess the vision I had for my future.
During the custody battle, I was dragged through the darkest depths of hell as I fought to keep my daughter safe from her father. I won’t go into the details to protect her privacy, but the experience was traumatic for both of us. At first, I denied the fact that she would be affected by the stress and grief because she was so young when it all happened. However, by the time she turned 2 years old, it became clear that she was experiencing anxiety, likely due to the court-ordered custody schedule.
Every time she had to leave my side, she would kick, scream, cry, and beg not to go. When she returned, she would be weepy, exhausted, and filled with anger. This situation was unsustainable, so after five years, it was decided that she would only see her father every other weekend to provide stability.
As she entered kindergarten, her resistance not only extended to her visits with her dad but also to going to school. It escalated to the point where she would physically resist getting dressed and getting into the car. Sometimes, she would even try to jump out of the moving vehicle. I sought help from professionals who repeatedly emphasized the importance of getting her into the school building no matter what. This advice led to me sitting outside the school, listening to her agonizing screams, which took a toll on my own mental health. For four years, it was a daily battle to get her to school or, during the time of COVID, to get her to engage with online learning.
As she grew older, her anger intensified, and she became prone to outbursts triggered by even the smallest transitions. These outbursts included kicking, biting, screaming, hitting, and breaking things. She would run away from home and engage in self-destructive behaviors like pulling her own hair and hitting herself. It was an endless cycle that broke my heart. Each outburst felt like preparing for a battle, and I often had to rely on my new husband or my mother for support. Every day was filled with fear and difficulty, and I constantly focused on trying to make her behavior stop without considering the root cause.
In January of 2022, a pivotal moment occurred in the school parking lot. My daughter fought us with all her might, refusing to move from her spot in the car. As she repeatedly slammed her head against the seat, she uttered the words no parent ever wants to hear: “I JUST WANT TO DIE!” In that moment, time stood still, and I felt utterly hopeless and helpless. The idea that my 8-year-old would rather die than go to school was unfathomable.
We knew we needed help, so we reached out to a new emergency mobile crisis center. The person on the other end of the call was incredibly understanding and dispatched two crisis clinicians to assist us. These amazing individuals spent over two hours outside in the freezing cold, speaking to my daughter with love and care. Slowly, she began to open up and answer their questions.
As I observed their interaction, something clicked in my mind. My daughter’s behavior wasn’t just bad behavior; it was a cry for us to listen. The clinicians suggested that her behavior stemmed from severe anxiety, and they used this initial diagnosis to guide their approach. It worked. After hours in the car, my daughter finally calmed down. The crucial aspect was that they met her where she was, providing support until she was ready. They did, however, recommend seeking help from the ER if her behavior resurfaced.
Less than 24 hours later, the cycle started again, and we took her to the ER. They determined that she wasn’t an immediate danger to herself but suggested committing her to a mental health facility. This decision weighed heavily on me as a parent. Considering what I had learned the previous day, I believed that her anxiety stemmed from separation and transitions, so committing her didn’t feel like the best course of action.
Instead, I explained to her that she had an emotional injury inside her, much like a broken arm. It was painful, and although we couldn’t see it, we knew it was there and sought help to heal it. With this new perspective, I shifted from fighting with my daughter to fighting for her. I immediately scheduled an emergency appointment with her psychiatrist, and together we made the difficult decision to put her on a mood stabilizer. With the support of the right mental health professionals and compassionate school staff, she began to improve. We started seeing the wonderful, loving, and intelligent girl she truly is, rather than the anxiety-driven version her behavior had turned her into.
I learned that during a crisis, rationalizing with a child is futile. Neither threats nor bribes work when they’re experiencing anxiety. What they need is compassion and reassurance. Meeting my daughter in her state of distress led to quicker resolutions than confronting her with frustration. Once she is regulated, we can discuss her behavior and work together to manage her anxiety. I encourage all parents to view their children’s behavior through this lens. Trust your intuition and seek help if you question the underlying cause of their actions. And remember, if you’re going through a situation similar to what my family experienced, you’re not alone.
Amanda Bacon-Davis, a two-time national award-winning author of “This Thing Has A Name,” is dedicated to helping children and their loved ones identify, normalize, and manage anxiety. Her personal experience has driven her mission to make a difference in the lives of others.
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