Dance in the House

I’ve been all over the internet, trying to research why children and teenagers become as violent as they do. Along with my research, I’ve found very little on an issue I hold close to my heart- “Special Needs.” These people who did, “their homework,” (supposedly,) come up with the excuses- the kids are on either drugs, or alcohol- or the reason is due to being from a broken home, abused and abandoned. In their research, I have to wonder what the statistics are for the children whom were yanked out of their homes and placed within the system? (That, to me, would be enough to make the child to go off of the deep-end!) The government pays, $2,000.00 dollars more per month for children whom are, or displays, “special needs.” And, if you are wondering? YES! There are children whom are improperly misdiagnosed, just so these people can collect on them.

But, what I want to talk about right now, is the ones whom really are, “Special Needs,” along with the impact of how they can potentially become violent, not just with circumstantial incidences, (if Social Services gets involved,) but, with their own loving family, who does not exhibit any forms of what can be considered as abuse. Unless, you want to say, “spoiling them to death,” (and give CPS time, they’ll use that against someone!)

I’m going to share a part of my life with everyone and the world. *chuckle* I have a teenage son whom is, “Special Needs.” He’s a great kid, however, trust me, it hasn’t been easy with him. His behaviors he displays here at home, makes me think about the children and teens whom are dealt a raw hand through what is supposedly to, “save them.”

So to the educators of the sites I’ve visited, and those whom really haven’t done their homework- you’re partially right, but you need to post the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!!

Abby’s Life with the one who puts the dance in the house- I had a dream…

(The Dream)
Inside the church with it's tall hand carved arches inlaid with golden leaves, the sunshine filtered through the stained glass image of Mother Mary, then gently caressed the infant's cheek.
The priest dabbed his fingertips in the basin of holy water that had been placed upon an alter. He extended his hand to mark the baptism with the sign of the cross upon the baby's forehead. All was calm… all was peaceful.
Suddenly from out of nowhere, brilliant flames of red, orange, and yellow shot up from the innocent face of the child, causing the priest's hand to burn as if it were made of wax and his fingertips were the wicks of candles.
"Demon child! Demon child," he screamed in a high pitched keening as he jerked his hand back while the flames continued upward to consume his arm- then his entire being as he reeled backwards and spun around while screaming continuously until all at once- silence.
… It was then she woke from her sleep, shaking from the nightmare.

(Reality)

This dream occurred in the fifth month of the child being in her womb. Not understanding it's meaning, she tried to shove it out of her thoughts, "demon child, demon child," her mind whispered. "No," she whispered back, "t'was only a dream." No matter what she tried to do, the dream would not go away and her soul felt much like it had been set on fire- just like the priest who had been consumed by the flames. "Demon child, demon child," her mind continued to whisper.
Four months later her son was born. The birth was more painful than what she had experienced with her other children, who were now full grown. It felt as if her insides were being torn and ripped apart, only to leave a hollow spot, one that she prayed would no longer hurt. Images of a demon's face played in her mind until he was placed in her arms and she saw his sweet innocent face.
Soon though, all fears of that horrible nightmare passed and she enjoyed being a mother to her child. He was such a good baby and would play quietly in his crib. His development seemed normal and on target as he grew.
At fourteen months of age, a change came about, and the dream that had silenced itself in her mind, reared its ugly head once more, but this time the meaning behind it became crystal clear to her. Toys would become weapons in his tiny little hands as he would take aim, then throw with such unusual accuracy for his age. All the while, the gleam of an evil entity could be seen in his eyes. The objects would strike with such a force that she would cry out in pain and he would laugh- such a hideous laugh. "Demon child, demon child," the voice in her mind whispered as she sobbed but- she didn't want to believe it. His behavior was continuously becoming worse as each new development of his childhood bloomed and she was worried.
When he turned four years old, not only was he potentially dangerous to himself, but was deadly dangerous to others around him. Nothing could be put high enough away from him or his sight. Knives became his favorite "no-no's". Learning to move and duck rather quickly became habit, and the sense that she was not alone in a room caused her to not stay in one spot for very long at a time. Constant motion was required at all times.
Her kitchen soon became a fortress with locks placed on every cupboard door as well as the drawers where the silverware was kept. The only two drawers that didn’t require the restriction of a lock were where her towels and dishrags lay hap-hazard from him happily tossing them out on the floor. She didn’t have the time to refold them after she picked them up as he was into something else so she’d just stuff them back in their rightful place. The refrigerator too, soon took on a bright red bungee cord around it with the hooks placed in the back beyond his reach. The knobs on her stove had to be pulled off and locked away- only one was used and then hidden to keep him from being tempted to turn it on and hurt himself.
She had put him in the Head Start program through the school that year then hoped and prayed this environment would help him settle down some. It didn't… His behaviors were questionable, and the reflection fell on her and her parenting skills. So many times she had been called into the school for a conference about what her son had done to another child or how he would not focus and try to learn or stay in his seat. She took him to the doctor to see what was the matter with him, and the doctor only stated, "you have an active child, it's normal behavior for this age." Normal behavior? She thought not! "Demon child, demon child," her mind whispered again. She was beginning to think it were true.
Continuing her search to find other doctors, specialists, anyone who could help her understand why his behavior was considered "normal," was very taxing on the whole family, not to mention finances. All she encountered was, "he's fine, just an overly active child." Finally when she was ready to give up, she encountered a doctor who said that her son definitely displayed problematic behaviors, but nothing could be done for him until he was six years old. With extensive testing, this doctor diagnosed her son as having ADHD, (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), but in the meantime, she just had to grin and bear with it.
Going and talking with his teachers, she managed to get it across to them that he didn't learn his behaviors at home, and that there was hope for him in the future. It had a name and it wasn't any longer, "Demon child."

************************************************

A lot of parents whom have, “Special Needs,” kids, feel like they were cursed for something they had done in their life because the behaviors can get extremely hard to deal with. I know, because this is the way I felt for a long time. However, I was blessed with God putting an angel in my life whom became my friend and told me like it was. She told me, “now get over yourself! God has special children and He only entrusts these special souls with special people to take care of them for Him. You were chosen by God for such a task.”
Every now and then, I have to keep reminding myself of what my friend had told me because my son has gone from ADHD to ODD, (Oppositional Defiant Disorder,) to Schizophrenia with ADHD and finally, Severely Bipolar with ADHD. We have been through the paces with him all of these years.
I will say one thing though, God has been with us every step of the way and has taught me to utilize love, patience and understanding for this precious, “special” child. Our days are getting easier and easier as I think maturity is starting to blossom a little bit more. My son loves the Lord and tries his hardest to do what is right. For all of the hard work that has gone into his upbringing, I have been truly blessed with being the caretaker of this wonderful soul.

How many parents have a, “Special,” child and how many have been lost to a cold-hearted system? Then they, (social workers and officials,) all stand around and wonder, “why?”  "They," can collect money until a certain age- what happens to our, "Special," ones and just how many have been in thier care?  All in, "for the good of the child?"