If he was my partner, I’d call the police ... but he’s my son
The tragedy of violent children is a situation dealt with in families and schools across Australia, with those on the receiving end – parents, teachers, siblings – held hostage to the whims of a violent protagonist. This is one mother’s story.
This week I’m surrendering this page to a reader with a story of family life which does not end up where you expect. Over to her:
“Oh God, he’s lost it again. My heart races. My body switches to maximum adrenaline mode as he screams, ‘I’m going to kill you!’ My young son races to his room as per our emergency plan. I’m now in fight mode, wondering how bad it will be this time; bruises or broken bones? Ten minutes or an hour of deflecting blows, while my son listens on?
“Every day I’m walking on eggshells, knowing any false move will bring on a tirade of abuse. In the ten years I’ve known him I’ve learned to read the signs. I can instantly recognise his moods and adapt. But it doesn’t matter what I do, I’m always at fault.
“Dinner has to be what he likes and made exactly to his tastes. No one else is allowed to have extra servings because it’s all his. No one else can watch TV unless he allows it, and he controls the viewing choices. We can’t make any spontaneous decisions as he needs to give his permission.
“I hear him opening the cutlery drawer, looking for the sharp knives as he’s done a hundred times before. This time he won’t find any. I hid them after the last time. He didn’t notice. Doesn’t notice anything. He barely helps with any of the housework. I’m waiting for his response. Have I made it better or worse for myself? Luckily this time he’s tired and doesn’t have the energy to continue his search. Instead he shouts and screams about how next time he’s going to finish me and ruin my life, before slamming the door behind him.
“I immediately rush to my child’s room and hold him, both of us in tears. I don’t know how long I can deal with this. I can’t let my son continue to suffer, hearing his Mum being beaten up almost every other day.
“If he was my partner, I’d call the police. But he’s not my partner, he’s not even an adult. He’s a boy, my son, a twin and 10 years old. I love him, this beautiful boy, but despair that he is one of hundreds, if not thousands, of neuro-diverse children unable to regulate their emotions. And despite being a patient of the local public hospital, an NDIS recipient and having accessed multiple private and allied health professionals, he still hasn’t received the help he deserves. If not now, when?”
My despairing correspondent – a single mother, doing it alone – says she’s at “crisis point” with “nothing left in the tank”.
The tragedy of violent children is a situation dealt with in families and schools across Australia, with those on the receiving end – parents, teachers, siblings – held hostage to the whims of a violent protagonist.
Her boy has complex needs, autism alongside epilepsy. A side effect of the epilepsy medication is aggression. The mother writes: “The older he grows the more aggressive/violent he’s become at home and school. I’ve mentioned this at every paediatrician appointment, to be met with no answers.”
A hospital worker has acknowledged her son has “slipped through the cracks”. The advice? Call an ambulance next time he has a violent meltdown, in the hope he’ll be taken to the hospital’s Emergency Department. The mother writes: “This, apparently, will open up ‘The Gates of Heaven’, and NDIS will fulfil his every need!”
Her thoughtful conclusion: “My opinion as to why he hasn’t received the care he requires is because he’s deemed to be of less/no value. Today’s society measures people only on their ability to contribute financially, not on their intrinsic value as a human being.”
She believes the elderly, disadvantaged and impaired are all met with the same indifference.
A bleak scenario, with no easy answers.
nikki.theaustralian@gmail.com
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