It’s approximately 3:30 PM and I’m sitting in the parking lot of our Primary School. I can hear music, loud horns and countless voices. I can feel the stuffy air of the car and I’m sighing in frustration. I know the moment that bell rings, I’m going to be in for a fight. I’m going to be greeted by my daughter with an initial smile and then it’s going to take the strength of a lion to get her into the car.
She will hit and scream. She will throw her backpack into the busy crosswalk. Parents will stare at me with their concerned and judgmental looks. When I do manage to wrestle her into the car, she will immediately start kicking my seat and trying to hurt her older sister. Her sister will react with equal aggression. She will scream and bawl her eyes out seemingly at nothing. I will drive home, gripping the steering wheel in tears as she continues to beat against my seat.
When we arrive home, she will continue in her rant. Neighbors will hear the commotion as I practically have to pull her into the house. She will throw herself onto the floor, kick her feet at us irrationally and then sit silently on the couch and cry. I will try and comfort her. She will literally have no idea why she’s upset. Then in approximately 20 to 45 minutes, she will have calmed down. A flip will switch and she will become the sweet, normal child we all love. My daughter…my five year old.
This is a scenario in which I dealt with for nearly six months. The breaking point for our family was when in a rage, she locked us all out of the house and threw her little body against the wall. It was an imploding situation, where a kind neighbor actually came over to help, imploring my little daughter to open the door for us.
I spoke to her teacher and she was surprised by my call. She said my daughter is a perfect student, she’s smart, does well, makes friends, obeys and although she has some moments of anxiety, she has no visible behavior problems and I shouldn’t worry.
In tears, I blamed myself. She was too young and immature to handle kindergarten. I made my mind up, something or someone is hurting her. I’m going to contact our school psychologist and get her the help she needs. Then, I’m going to pull her out and home school her. This behavior never started until kindergarten. She’s so unbearably unhappy and as her mom, I had to find a way to fix this.
That very night, feeling defeated, I logged into my Facebook account and I came across this article posted by a friend whose daughter is on the autistic spectrum. There is a flash of lightening that coursed through my brain. There is nothing seriously wrong with my daughter. She has, “After-School Restraint Collapse!”
After-School Restraint Collapse is a term coined by the Canadian psychotherapist and parenting educator Andrea Loewen Nair. It is essentially a meltdown that occurs after school when a child has been holding their emotions in all day and upon seeing their safe place, they let it all out. In my case, as mom, I’m the safe place. My daughter is extremely sensitive and very anxious. For the six hours that she was in school every day, she was utilizing all of her emotional efforts, to be good, to follow the rules, to be accepted by her peers, to learn the way she should and by the time the bell would ring, she was emotionally spent.
I felt such an unburdening of grief. A type of relief flooding through me that I can only describe as heavenly. I was not alone. I did research, gathered some ideas and I spoke again to her teacher. She had a few ideas to help with the transition after school. There is no easy cure for this type of meltdown. Handling emotions is a process.
My first step was to explain the situation to my oldest daughter and ask her to not engage in any physical altercation with her sister. The moment I would get her to the car and she would start in, I’d offer her a snack. As she wailed with her mouth full of crumbs, I’d remind her of how much we love her and it’s alright to be upset. From there, I made a safe space at home. I cleared the living room of clutter. I had her blanket and special bear waiting for her on the couch. I put the TV on immediately so she could just unwind in front of the screen. I offered her a healthy snack. The goal was always to deflect from her emotions and to distract her in some way.
She still continued to melt down. She still continued to rage. The change came in the form of how we handled her. Though it took months of patience, the meltdowns became less. In a good week, we would have only two. By the end of her kindergarten year, her meltdowns were gone. When first grade started, I slowly eased her into taking a walking group home from school. I hoped a walk home with her peers and three crossing guards, would help her transition through exercise. It helped and although she occasionally came home upset, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Those days feel like a distant memory. At the time, I felt as if my world was on fire. Now, I look back at her kindergarten year and I mostly remember the sweet moments and the amazing milestones. I only see the beauty of our life and the moments that make up childhood.
