Having Sensory Processing Disorder...

We assumed that it was all personality driven. The reason my older son had trouble socializing in school seemed simple enough...he just did not like other people that much. However, nothing in life is truly that simple when you really think about it. From the early stages he was the kid that nothing on his plate could actually touch each other. If the ketchup touched anything, then the whole thing was uneatable. This was nothing as serious as Adrian Monk and only allowing ten peas on his plate at once, but still aggravating enough to frustrate the most patient of dad's I know. It would really take my son over fifteen minutes to put on his shoes because any discomfort from the socks would make it an impossible task to complete. Only certain fabric of shirts would do, otherwise the entire morning would be wasted convincing him to wear it. About underwear, let me not even go there!


Soon enough we caught on and realized that something just wasn't right. We consulted with his pediatrician which was experienced enough to know that we were not just being freaky parents and sent us to have him evaluated. The diagnosis was what at the time they called Sensory Integration Dysfunction (SID), now days called Sensory Processing Disorder. In simple terms this is a neurological disorder in which the individual processes information from the five senses in a different way than you and me. To the extreme that what might seem like a subtle touch to me, actually feels like a punch to him. Knowing this information made a huge difference because it gave me a reason to be much more patient with him during those trying mornings of "sock and shoe" crisis. I can joke about it right now, but really consider the scenario of knowing that he's going to be late for school, again, and I'm also going to be late for work, again, and all this just because he can't get his shoe on his foot within the next 15 minutes.


When SID is diagnosed at an earlier age the treatment is physical therapy. A routine of special exercises, brushing of the skin, and a few other things are done to stimulate and allow nerve endings to adjust. The older the child, the less effective these treatments become. Nevertheless we proceeded to do the physical therapy in hopes that some improvement would be better than none. I am not sure if it was the physical therapy or the simple fact that now we were more equipped to deal with what was going on, but in the long run things seemed to get a lot better. Now days he has figured out lots of ways to get around what is discomforting to him.


I remember once sitting in church next to him and watching as an older lady behind us cupped my son's neatly cut hair in an affectionate gesture. I could see his eyes swell in a mixture of anger and fear. His entire body stiffened for that short amount of time that her fingers made contact with his head, and then relaxed as she let go. I could see how impacting this small gesture was to him which reminded me of how difficult it then must of been to deal with kids bumping into him in the classroom at school. Just having his desk a bit apart from the rest made a huge difference in his overall daily interaction with others.


Funny how this explained a lot about him not wanting to be held that much as a baby, or not being able to breastfeed. In our home our roles had always been a bit back ass because I am the "give me a hug" parent instead of his mom. I grew up in a family in which we hugged and kissed daily with affectionate gestures, while my now ex-wife came from a much less affectionate bunch. Still to this day I hug and kiss all of my relatives when we meet. For a while, I confess to wondering why my son was so much like his mother avoiding physical touch and affection. Once I understood that he was wired differently, it was much easier to accept his pulling away quicker than his brother. Don't get me wrong, just because he has this condition does not mean that he's off the hook to give his dad a hug a day, but at least he is excused from having to wear a tie on formal occasions.


Knowledge is such a powerful tool. Us men like to be in control, able to fix what might be broken when the need is there for it to be fixed. During the time in which I was not equipped with this bit of information about my son's condition, my mornings were full of frustration and many times even anger. Why was he being such a pain? As soon as I discovered why he behaved the way he did, it became a much simpler thing to be patient with him even if the condition could not be totally fixed.


Today I find myself in that same place I was ten years ago, not knowing what exactly is the reason for so much of my teenage son's behaviour. The bright child that was once full of intellectual curiosity has now turned his interest to places that scare me immensely. Dangerous behaviour rules his mind in such a way that defies logic. I feel too close to it all and ill equipped to really know how to proceed in my role as his father. The professional doors I have knocked on have not proven fruitful or useful enough to be of any significant help. In fact, the best advice and guidance I have obtained has come from a handful of friends. It is them that I have learned to rely on to find ways to cope and deal with it all. When and if you read this, you all know who you are and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for every word of advice, encouragement, and love you offer so freely.

Dad