J is in a fairly good place, emotionally, at the moment.
As I type these words I’m thinking ‘don’t tempt fate, Becca!’. But it’s actually not about fate, or luck, or ‘phases’.
It’s about a growing sense of self-awareness, a sense of place in the world, and feeling safe and understood in his environment.
JJ leads a very low-demand life, and his journey – from major burnout during lockdown to where we are today – has been fraught with difficulties:
The extended period of time being unable to leave the house.
The frequent episodes of distressed behaviour due to feeling unsafe, confused, frustrated, bored and unhappy.
His awareness that his body has changed dramatically due to a significant weight gain, which has left him feeling sad, frustrated and ‘other’.
The sensory-seeking behaviour and desperation for a dopamine fix which was left behind when demands were removed.
But…
All these things aside, he’s now more outward looking, silly, excitable, funny, clever and more brilliant company than he has ever been.
He’s learning to manage his own self-care, even though sensory difficulties and anxiety-based demand avoidance make it a constant struggle for him.
He’s suggesting places we can go and visit, and has a wonderful spontaneity which I adore (as I love being impulsive) and so we’re having more fun together than ever.
He’s more likely to tell me to go away and leave him alone (only less politely 
) when he’s feeling overwhelmed, rather than hitting out.
He’s actively trying to spend more time with his dad, as they’ve drifted apart over the past couple of years, when I became JJ’s official ‘safe person’.
He’s considering having another try at school.
…I couldn’t have dreamt of writing those things a year ago.
The point is – things change.
Situations change.
People change.
If you can make your child feel safe, trusted and deeply loved despite all the ‘flaws’, the things they may hate about themselves – then things can really change for the better.
If you can look an unsolvable problem in the eye – *with your child* – and say ‘we’re going to solve this together’, then things can change.
We still struggle as a family every day. Small things can be huge to us.
Every lovely moment can be counterbalanced by a stressful one.
Life stretches ahead of me, and I don’t know what will happen, or how we’ll cope with the inevitable challenges on the horizon.
I get things wrong with JJ all the time, and I spend hours analysing what happened and what I should have done instead.
I’m still hyper vigilant all the time, on high-alert, waiting for JJ to be triggered. I may always be like this. But I don’t think I *need to be* as much as I did in the past.
I am starting to have little moments of calm, of pure happiness, and that’s so welcome after what seems like years of being in fight or flight, never truly relaxing.
Parenting a PDAer is a leap of faith, but bloody hell, when you change your mindset you can affect some major change.
It may not happen instantly (well, it won’t) but at some point you’re going to look back and say to yourself: ‘Thank goodness we took that leap of faith. Thank goodness we were brave even though we were terrified. Thank goodness we stopped listening to people who doubted us. Thank goodness we started to trust our child’.
A Boy Less Ordinary 