The "Crutch"

I heard the wood split as the heavy frame of the forty pound lobby chair slammed violently against the hard, white tile floor. Slowly I shifted my weight and brought my hands up in a non-threatening display, but close enough to protect my face, and to strike, if that is what was required. I knew that I was the only thing between this 300 pound raging hulk and the people his fury was directed at. I also was well aware as he slammed his enormous fist into the metal frame of the door, that he stood between me, and the only way out.

Most of what happened after that is a story for anther time. The part I am going to focus on this week, is "the crutch."

As  this extremely angry young man and I circled the room, he bellowed at me that he was not going to comply with any of my requests. He was not going to be held responsible for his actions. It was "not his fault" that he had failed to comply with the policy we as a facility had in place long before he arrived. It was not his fault and I simply "did not understand," the factors that had influenced his poor decision and that the choice he had made was completely out of his control.

As I looked into his tearing eyes, it happened: "My psychologist says I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!"

And there it is. Someone had given him permission to behave the way he was. Someone gave him a “crutch.”

Lisa Aro writes in her article “Overcoming the Fear of Labeling our Children,” that she wishes that she hadn’t waited so long to have her daughter diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. She states, “because what I found was not nearly as intimidating as I thought it would be. Diagnoses Bring Clarity, not Limitations.” 

“Diagnosis bring clarity, not limitations.”

I am going to have to respectfully amend that statement. Let us say that; “diagnosis can bring clarity, not limitations.” 

My son has been diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome. Asperger’s for those who are not familiar with it, is part of the Autism Spectrum of disorders. He is a loving child, whose intelligence is off the charts. His vocabulary and math skills were virtually unparalleled by middle school. His teachers loved him. He had friends. But for all this, his life at home was full of tension and fear.

For years, our otherwise happy boy's life was disrupted by bouts of irrational behavior and uncontrollable anger. When something in his perception of how things should be didn’t quite fit, the rage would begin. I struggled with connecting the dots with him, but he would continuously find himself worked into a frenzy with no way of being talked down. Any arguments I would try to counter the usually small issue caused the meltdown, would be met with his signature circular logic that brought the conversation back to square one.

Back to the yelling. Back to the threats. Back to the running away from home and acting out in public. Sometimes he even hurt himself or his siblings accidentally, and when accidents happened it only served to further the self abusive rants and overwhelming guilt. 

His intelligence showed him that his siblings and classmates did not react the same way to things as he did. He knew that he did not like how his outbursts made him look to others, and he did not like the way they made him feel inside. My wife and I struggled with whether or not we should tell him his diagnosis. These outbursts were extremely draining on the family, and his treatment of younger siblings was bordering on verbal abuse. We did not want to give him a means of justifying his actions further. We did not want to give him “a crutch.” 

When we finally told him, relief flooded him. There was peace for our son in knowing that other people shared his experience, and that he was not alone. 

Labels and diagnosis from my experience largely bring negative consequences. They are self-fulfilling prophecies in many cases, whether we intend them to be positive or not. Once an individual has consciously or unconsciously accepted their label, they begin to construct their reality around this label.

"I am the captain of the football team. Everyone says I am the best thing to happen to my high school in years."

So... How do you feel when you lose a game?

"My teachers all tell me how smart I am. My friends always ask me for help with their work. They tell me I am a genius."

So... How do you feel when you don't get the best grade in class?

"My peers think I am tough. I have never lost a fight. Nobody messes with me."

So... How do you feel when you get hurt?

Labels have power.

How we use these labels, and how we treat those who have been labeled is critical. It is the difference between not having limitations and being buried beneath them. It is the difference between owning our failures and using a crutch. 

Until we can stop using labels to hurt others, including ourselves...

We are still savages.