I was listening to a mother whose child has a history of angry outbursts. This has caused stress on the family, and she and her husband were reaching the end of their rope. But a few weeks ago they decided to take their son off of gluten. Although they are not certain that this solved the problem, clearly his behavior has improved. Maybe he is
being good merely because being gluten free is so trendy, and the food often more expensive. But I doubt it. When I saw him she enjoyed telling me in his earshot what a great job he had done that day. He smiled. Surely the emotional outbursts had taken a toll on him as well, and the absence of them was a relief.
Last weekend Benjamin was invited to a dance for students in Life Skills. This was an effort to help kids on the spectrum with social nuances and developing
friendships. His teacher encouraged everyone to go. He seemed excited. But Saturday morning he started coming apart at the seams over the macaroni shelf tipping over. He slammed boxes and yelled, told me to SHUT UP as well as other unpleasant remarks I will not bore you with, and could not be calmed down even when the shelf was fixed. I pondered.
I was helping a friend with a quilt so I asked Zack if he would talk, or rather listen, to
Ben.
"Find out if he is worried about this dance."
It took awhile for him to be able to articulate it, but Benjamin was anxious and felt cornered.
"Ben, you do not have to go to the dance. Do you want to stay home?"
"Yes." He said it quietly. I think he expected to be in trouble. Poor guy. I doubt he understood himself why he was acting out. The feelings swimming around inside were
confusing, and splurted out sideways. He could not sort them enough to explain them to himself, much less to me.
It is ridiculously easy to be defensive when people get angry. They are after all directing their negative energy at the nearest target which coincidentally may be us. But sometimes it is not about us at all. Maybe they are scared, or suffering physically. Rather than being able to untangle those responses, they lash out. If we could see the rope burns on
their arms, or the snake teeth marks on their ankles, we would not hesitate to offer compassion. But when the pain comes from a less obvious source, we are stingier with sympathy.
