Why am I different?

4th grade. Home from school. In my lap. Crying uncontrollably. “Mom, why am I different than everybody else? I don’t understand. I don’t want to have problems. ”

I was wondering when this would happen. Ryan had been through testing, seeing different doctors, being pulled out of class twice a day for special ed, occupational therapy and speech therapy from the time he was 5. He’d been on meds since he was 6, had behavioral therapy, seen numerous doctors and now at another school. I had no idea when and where it would really dawn on him. We had never just sat him down and said – “hey, look, your brain works differently, you learn differently and it’s just the way it is.

I held him and cried with him. Broke my heart. (Heck, I’m crying now just remembering it.) Painful as it was, this was a huge step in our lives and completely necessary. Ryan “knew” that he had ADHD and other learning differences, but not until this moment did it really hit home.

So I sat with him and talked to him and explained it all. That his brain was like a speed tunnel, that it worked faster and had trouble processing things in a coherent manner. That his brain worked faster than he could get his words out. That what he heard and understood, wasn’t always what the message actually was. That letters and words didn’t always look right on the page. That his body didn’t always know where it was in space and he needed help in that weightlessness with the weighted vests he wore. That the meds he was on was to help slow the brain down so that he could process things better.

“But why?” he would ask. I had to tell him that there was no answer to that. This was just the way he was made. And sometimes, being different was an incredible gift. A difficult gift, but one that he would work on learning how to embrace it. Of course, this was not something he wanted to hear. His heart was broken. But I believe it needed to break so that he could learn how to heal.

We’ve worked hard since then to help Ryan embrace and be proud of who he is. (I say we’ve here, because Ryan is not alone. Yes – it’s his brain and his body and he has to live with it 24/7, which I am sure at times, he wants to scream and run! And yes, I’ve seen him do this. And frankly, he’s allowed.) It’s hard to come face to face with the reality of your challenges. He has to do this EVERY day. You’ve heard me say this before, but Ryan has had to work twice as hard as a typical kid.

Through therapy, school and the help of his family, Ryan has been encouraged to become a self advocate and to embrace his differences. From the time he was in 4th grade, all of his educators, teachers, and doctors have encouraged him and helped give him the tools to face his challenges and not be afraid to say that he is different and needs help. He has learned to talk to others openly about himself, and has educated others about his challenges. And he encourages others like him to do the same.

There are still times when Ryan and his dad and I talk about the pain of the reality of his life, and go through the heart wrenching struggle of it all over again. The older he gets, new things and experiences come up that need to be hurdled over effectively. New challenges. New opportunities to learn. New ways of doing things. It’s hard enough for typical kids, but his is just on an entirely different playing field. And I will never stop being Ryan’s mom and leave him to work out these things on his own. For that, Ryan will never be alone.