By Heather LeRoss of Tipsy Tiaras
I was talking with my 12-year-old son the other day about a girl he likes in school. “She’s the most popular girl, but some people say really mean things about her,” he said.
“What do they say that’s mean?” I asked.
“They call her fat and say she’s ugly without any makeup.”
God, kids can be mean. I asked him how he felt when he heard people saying things like that. “It makes me feel bad for her, because I know how I feel when people say mean things about me.”
My mom radar went off. My son is that kid who is always happy; nothing seems to get him down. He did not seem happy right then. What did he think people said?
“What do you think people say?” I asked, expecting him to shrug and mutter, “I don’t know.” I got this instead:
I hear them, everything they probably think I can’t hear. Like the sigh when I tell them I forgot my homework again. I hear them mutter things under their breath when I am fidgeting in class. I hear frustration in their voices. I’d like them to understand I am not trying to make them mad.
I see things, too. Like how you smile less with me than with other kids. I see how Daddy’s forehead gets all creased when he is yelling at me. I see people roll their eyes when I show them a new toy and how they sound all mad when they ask me to stop singing.
I want people to know I feel like they don’t like how I am. I want Daddy to know I am not stupid and it hurts my feelings when he says, “Are you dumb?” I want you to know I don’t like it when you yell. I hate when I ask someone a question and they say, “It’s none of your business. Stop interrupting.” I’m just curious.
I just want it to stop. The yelling, comparing me to other kids that are “normal.” How people tense up sometimes when I just walk into the room. I want people to say I am nice and funny and good at drawing and not follow it with, “If only he could focus like that in other areas.” I just want to feel like it’s ok to be me.
Holy sh*t! That was not what I expected, and it took every ounce of strength I had to not crumble under the weight of my shame. Maybe my happy kid was a little less happy than I’d thought. And I’d been so frustrated with him for not being “normal,” I’d missed it.
I took a deep breath and hugged him. My heart hurt. “That was so beautifully said. I’ll make you a promise right now to work to make things different for you. I believe in you, I see your goodness and I don’t want you to hurt.” And I meant this with all of my being.
He hugged me back and looked shy now. Like a typical 12-year-old boy.
So I am sticking to my promise. I want to help people understand ADHD and the struggles these wonderful humans go through just to fit in in this world. This is my start. They’re square pegs in a round-hole world. Let’s find ways to make more square holes for them.
This post was originally published on Tipsy Tiaras.
About the Author
Heather LeRoss is the mom to two smelly but sweet boys. She spends her days spinning in circles of crazy wearing a tiara, gripping a glass of champagne. She’s a lover of fine boxed wine and chocolate. You can follow the funny and the heart feels at Tipsy Tiaras. She hopes to someday be known as “Heather” again and not “those boys’ mom.”