The danger of RAD

I have written before about my opinions of RAD (reactive attachment disorder) as a diagnosis. In strict terms, RAD is an extreme diagnosis where the child in question cannot develop attachment to anyone and has no empathy towards other living creatures. It is an exceptionally dire diagnosis which goes hand in hand with some significantly dire behavior. It is so filled with pain, hurt, and brokenness on all sides that it is not something I would wish on anyone. RAD is at the extreme end of attachment difficulties. But attachment issues are on a long spectrum. It is more than possible to have attachment challenges and not have RAD. It is entirely possible to to have some significant behaviors and not have RAD. It is entirely likely that anyone with these behaviors has experienced a great deal of trauma. 

I hope that anyone who has been reading here for any length of time understands that trauma is not kind to growing brains. (Well, it's not kind to any type of brain, but growing, immature brains are even more affected.) Attachment, memory, attention, anger, disassociation, eloping, hypervigilance, sleep disturbances, fawning (being overly pleasing to those around them), destruction, depression, stealing, lying, indiscriminate affection (which is also attachment related, but significantly more severe), and anxiety are all areas or behaviors which can be present in a child who has experienced trauma. I know it is an overwhelming list, but we have experienced every single one of them. If I were to go through one of those do-it-yourself "does you child have RAD?" checklists, there would be an awful lot of boxes which would be ticked. It's been a long time since I was compelled to take one of those tests, but I'm pretty sure that for at least three of my children I would have been given permission to self-diagnose RAD. None of my children have RAD. They can form attachments, even if it is difficult and scary for some of them. They are caring of other people and animals. They are learning that it is possible for them to be safe and loved, and they can heal.

But I've been at that place. The place where a parent is so despondent over their child that they are desperate for answers. That place where you think you have tried absolutely everything and your bag of tricks is empty. That place where having a diagnosis which explains it all is so tantalizing. I took those tests, and they confirmed my fears. My worst fears, I might add, that we would be adopting a child who damaged that there was no hope. This was the diagnosis which let me off the hook. If there is no hope, there is nothing more than I can do. I could then sadly shake my head and quit trying, because at that point I really did think I had tried everything. I sat with that for a bit, but as much as I wanted to be done, excused from service, relieved of responsibility, I couldn't. What I saw in my child didn't match a more clinical description of RAD. So we kept looking for answers. Those answers were extremely uncomfortable because I had to realize that I hadn't actually tried everything, just everything that felt comfortable. I had to venture into some significant discomfort before I could change enough to parent in the way my hurt children needed me to. 

RAD is mostly a cop out. It says there is no hope, so there is no point in trying. And when that diagnosis is given by a professional, possibly a pediatrician, with no training in trauma or psychological rarities, then this cop out of a diagnosis is even more compelling. A parent is then given a reason for all the hard, end of story. This abused diagnosis does nothing for the child, does nothing for the family, and does nothing for families who have children who actually have to live with the diagnosis, diluting its severity.

Today, I discovered another way a RAD diagnosis is harmful. In a group I am in for riding instructors, someone asked for help and suggestions because a parent had asked about lessons for their child diagnosed with RAD. (I was polite, but you can imagine my response.) I was dismayed at the response. Most people don't live in a place where discussions about trauma and RAD are commonplace, so did a little googling and discovered the clinical description. As I said, it's pretty scary. With only that description for reference, there was pretty wide scale comments about not taking this child... too dangerous, needs too much specialized treatment, or just don't do it. If the child in questions does actually have true RAD, then these responses make sense. But probably, because I see the term thrown around so often and with such abandon, it is a child affected by trauma for whom life is not always easy. Horses would be awesome. To be in a place where this child could just be a kid learning about horses could be healing. Instead, by throwing around the term RAD, everyone who works with that child is already on edge, waiting for some egregious, horrible behavior. Children are not stupid; they know when people don't trust them or are scared of them. And yet one more time a child who has experienced significant hurt has another little bit of shame heaped on their plate, another confirmation that there is something intrinsically wrong with them and they can do nothing about it. 

So hurtful. So unnecessary. 

Because the truth is, there is hope. There can be healing. It won't be fast, it won't be easy, and it may require a lot of change on the part of the parent, but it can happen.