Thank you first of all to everyone who has shared such kind and supportive words about my most recent post and the decision I had to make on Monday.  I’ve been able to reply to some of you, but not all of you so I wanted to say thank you, here.  Your comments, kindness and solidarity really helped on an incredibly bleak day.  

Some of you might be wondering, “why now?” Sure the situation was awful but reading this blog (or for those of you who know me in person) there have also been many wonderful times.  So what was it about these last days that made me finally need to hang up my superwoman cape and serve that Section 20 order?

Throughout his entire life, Adam has experienced meltdowns, demonstrated violent and challenging behaviour and injured me – as the photos on my last post showed (and of course those are just a few of them) so that part isn’t new.  The difference was that this past weekend, he became violently upset and he just didn’t calm down for any length of time for an entire three days.  The situation was dreadfully dangerous for us both.

On Friday morning, I had collected him from his respite stay at school (he’s been spending three nights per week there since September) and he was happy, incredibly excited to see me and to be coming home.  I had absolutely no suspicion of what was to come or how bad it would be.

When we got home, Adam was happy but agitated, sort of manically excited in a jittery way.  There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it was unusual, normally he’s fairly calm when he comes home after some time away.  One of the things that keeps him calm is to have absolute control over his environment and over all of the ‘devices’ in the house so he was watching TV, playing with his dad’s old phone, his kindle and my phone all at the same time.  

My breathing was bad so I knew I needed to ring the doctor for some medications and to Adam I said, “Mummy have a turn on mummy’s phone?” which is always his cue to hand it over for a bit.  Normally, he accepts that and just says, “Adam’s turn next!” and then lurks beside me until he can have it back.  But this time, as soon as I said that, he just lost it.  He was screaming, thrashing, punching the walls, seeming to be in an incredible state of distress and struggled to calm himself.  Unfortunately, I was on hold for an hour and a half to get through to the doctor’s receptionist so trying to manage that while waiting was….tough.  

For the last three years, I’m always assessed over the phone and then medications are sent to the chemist; sure this can be frustrating at times since covid restrictions have long since ended, but it’s what I expected.  But this time, they wanted to see me in the surgery for an emergency appointment.  I prepared Adam as best as I could, saying we were going to the doctor first and then home next but he was on edge.

We arrived at the surgery, I took him upstairs to the waiting room and in a split second, noticed there was a frail elderly man waiting for his appointment and he was wearing a neck collar.  My heart sank even as Adam lost it again.  He was screaming, rushing around the waiting room, throwing magazines to the floor in a rage and all I could do was go into Mama Bear mode in the sense of, “Sit down right now, right HERE!”  Thankfully he did but he was still kicking and shouting and I’d taken everything off him that he could throw.  

We waited a few moments and were then called into the nurse practitioner’s office where Adam lost it again.  He was kicking walls, punching pictures, screaming, overturning furniture, sobbing, trying to flee.  Somehow, while managing that, I had my consultation and then the moment I opened the consulting room door to leave, Adam ran straight out into the hallway, out of the main surgery door and into the carpark.  In a split second, I saw the moving car but couldn’t have gotten to him fast enough.  Thankfully, the car was moving slowly and managed to brake just in time, but I’m talking inches.  

We went onto my next prescheduled appointment at the chiropractors and Adam lost it again in a similar way.  He was screaming, thrashing, trying to flee, kicking the walls.  For a while I stood with my body blocking the front door so he couldn’t leave (the practice is right on a road) and then the practice manager came and locked the front door to keep him inside.  Thankfully they have an autistic child so this is not unfamiliar to them and they’re not phased.  During my adjustment, they kept all of the internal doors open so Adam could see me as he charged around screaming and while the doctor helped my back, the practice manager dealt with Adam.  

At one point, Adam was trying to reach into the mechanism of the raising/lowering adjusting bed and the doctor had to intervene to get him out of it (thankfully he’s a former firefighter so is well able!).  On a side note, when I went back to the practice today, I learned he had commented to his wife that because of Adam’s size now, if he had needed to fully intervene, it would have, “taken something pretty significant” to contain him – that’s from a man who uses strength for his living.  His wife commented to me, with apologies in case I was offended (I wasn’t) that always before, she’s seen a little glint in Adam’s eyes, that he is capable of stopping himself but is looking for a reaction.  This time, she said, it was different; he had totally lost it.  Hesitantly she said, I was actually a little afraid.  Yeah, I was too.

By the time the appointment was finished, the only way I could get Adam back to the car was by pinning his elbow to mine in a one-sided “caring C” hold that is used by many professionals to keep people safe during episodes like this.  

Once we got home, I was incredibly upset and crying.  Adam saw me crying and became instantly repentant, repeating “Sorry mummy, sorry mummy, love you mummy!” while hugging and kissing me.  Of course this was lovely in some ways but not in others because it was him who was the cause of my heartbreak.  The thing is, he does react when he sees me experience “big” or obvious emotions (like tears) but he wouldn’t have known or understood had I “just been upset”.

The violent outburst continued throughout the weekend.  On both nights, trying to put him to bed resulted in a 1.5 hour screaming, punching, thrashing tantrum.  Twice, he woke up in the middle of the night, from a sound sleep in the same state.  When I asked him to have a shower, he lost it again and in his anger, even took the toughened glass shower door off its railings (and it’s heavy!) On Sunday morning, I took him to church and he was screaming, thrashing, over turning furniture, punching the walls and radiators, throwing books and toys.  I brought him home and while he briefly calmed, it then all started again.

The thing that was different is that every time he’s had a meltdown or tantrum before (because they are different) it has been an episode of varying duration, and varying severity, but then he calms down and stays calm for an extended period, as though all of the bluff and bluster has been expended and he’s exhausted.  This time, it was like he was overwhelmed by an almighty rage that just wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t calm down.  He was angry and violent for the whole weekend.

There was a moment, when I was standing in church, with my arms outstretched as he screamed and threw his entire body weight into mine to try to flee, that I felt like I was outside of myself and watching this and I couldn’t believe it.  In some quiet corner of my mind I thought, “this is actually my life.  This is my life.”  At that moment, I just knew I couldn’t do it anymore.  Not without help.  Not without support.

My son has always hurt me, he’s always left injuries on me, but I’ve always been able to contain him, to keep him safe and to bring him back to himself….eventually.  This time, I couldn’t.  This time, it was beyond me and there was nothing I could do other than to endure the storm. This time, he had lost it so much that he couldn’t even bring himself back.

Even as my heart broke inside my chest, because I love my child, but for the first time, my eyes were opened in a way that I realised I just couldn’t do it alone for one single day more.  It’s no longer safe. And that breaks my heart.  

I’m not doing this because I don’t want to parent my son or because he’s complicated and hard work, or because he’s becoming a teenager and being a teenager is difficult for every family.  None of those things.  I’m doing it because I can no longer keep my own child safe from himself and I cannot keep myself safe from him.  

That is a horrible place to reach and a horrible admission to have to make but that’s where “superwoman” lays down her cape and says, “I need help.”