Behaviour is communication

behaviours

Behaviour is communication – especially when communication isn’t particularly easy. This is something we were taught from the earliest days – that if Archie’s behaviour became challenging it may be because he was trying to communicate something. I have repeated this for years, and sort of understood it, but at times, especially when we’re just surviving a challenging time, not really fully accepted.

For the last few years we’ve had few instances of challenging behaviours. Yes, like any teen Archie has had his moments, but they’ve been few and far between, and life has been good. Archie as been able to try lots of new activities and go to many new places, with us secure in the knowledge that he would remain calm and happy. Challenging behaviours are hard to deal with in privacy, a hundred times harder in public (I have been known to tell Joe to do a song and dance to entertain the audience we have attracted).

That all changed in July. A week before the school holidays Archie’s respite provision fell apart and he went from a planned three days a week to a big fat zero. I explained that respite was going to be shut over the summer (which he seemed fine with), then provided no further information. I did not specify what would happen in September because I did not know (I still don’t) and anyway we were focussing on the holidays. This was a mistake – my first of many.

The holidays were hell. Archie’s anxiety spiralled to levels I have never seen before, and with that came pretty ferocious meltdowns. I began to try to manage the behaviour, so I’d see the anxiety spiralling and would try and stop it, or would steel myself for the explosion that I knew would follow. It was pretty difficult for Joe and Louis as well, the meltdowns are frightening for them to witness and we had to be careful where we went. The refrain for the summer became ‘don’t try anything too ambitious’, which was a shame because we’d been terribly ambitious last summer and had had a ball.

I was so busy managing the behaviours, I forgot to consider that Archie might be trying to communicate with me. I saw the anxiety was overwhelming and believed it was coming from nowhere – the best explanation I could come up with was that it was as a result memories. Then two days before Archie was due to return to school he had another meltdown and shouted ‘diyant dai diyant dai’. This means ‘different day’ and he had said it a lot over the summer, both when I could see anxiety spiralling and during meltdowns. I had understood the words, but not his meaning. When, for example he said ‘diyant dai’ on a cliff path outside Belfast, I thought he had meant we were going to the north coast on a different day and had explained this to him (at which point he’d exploded in anger and frustration). Finally, seven weeks later, the penny dropped. He’d often used ‘diyant dai’ to refer to respite. He was asking what was happening about respite in September. I  explained that he would be at home on Thursday and at home on Saturday (the two potential respite days), he instantly stopped trashing his room and there was silence. Utter silence. This had all taken place during (my) dinner and so I finished eating, then went up to him – to find him happy, smiley and very much in need of a cuddle. Seven weeks he had spent trying to get me to answer his simple question. Seven weeks.

Today I spotted anxiety soaring and a few shouts followed. I thought back to the previous sentence and realised Archie might have misunderstood and thought I wasn’t taking him out today. Rather than managing the behaviour (giving space, talking calmly, providing food, getting ready to step back,) we had a discussion, a back and forth conversation. This was indeed what was worrying him. We soon established he wanted to take the dog out, to the moors, with me, in my car. We did this, climbed a tor and enjoyed the view (see photo). Peace.

It’s been a very challenging seven weeks and it’s taught me a lot – I just wish I hadn’t been quite such a slow learner.