I recently found myself in a situation with my daughter that I had always vowed to shield her from: I cried. This wasn’t just a reaction to a sad movie or the loss of someone dear; it was tears stemming directly from my frustration over her challenges.
My 8-year-old daughter, Lucy, has been diagnosed with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) for a little over three years now. While ADHD offers her unique advantages, like creative problem-solving skills, it also presents significant hurdles, particularly when it comes to completing homework.
During the summer, Lucy’s school imposes specific requirements that she must follow, such as 30 minutes of reading and 20 minutes on an online math program each day. Although there are additional suggestions, like journaling and keyboarding practice, it’s often overwhelming for a child like Lucy, who struggles with the basic tasks.
I always strive to make her homework manageable. I encourage breaks, allow her to decide the order of her assignments, and promise screen time as a reward. However, despite my efforts, the frustration and anger she experiences during homework can be immense. Although Lucy is bright and has a knack for recognizing patterns in numbers, math remains a challenging area for her.
One afternoon, as we sat together in the kitchen—Lucy on my laptop attempting her math program—things took a turn. She faced a particularly tough problem and began to lose her composure. I was right beside her, trying to guide her through it using different methods, but she seemed unresponsive.
In a fit of frustration, Lucy left her stool and collapsed onto the floor, crying that she would never understand math and that my help was futile. As her emotions escalated, so did mine. I began questioning my choices, particularly our decision to pause her ADHD medication over the summer to promote weight gain. Was it the right call? Her weight was improving, but at what cost to her academic performance?
As I wrestled with these thoughts, Lucy’s meltdown continued, and it became clear to me that she couldn’t focus on her assignment any longer. I suggested she take a break in her Calm Down Area, but she resisted, opting instead to vent her frustrations on the kitchen floor. I felt hopeless and defeated.
Most alarmingly, I was gripped by fear. Fear of my inability to support my own daughter, fear of what her future might hold as a teenager and then as an adult. I wrestled with the urge to walk away, but I knew that leaving would only deepen her sense of abandonment. If I couldn’t be there for her, how would the world treat her?
So, I stayed put, allowed my emotions to surface, and for the first time, I let Lucy see me cry. The moment she noticed the tears on my cheeks, her entire demeanor shifted. She asked me why I was crying, and I responded with heartfelt honesty, “I don’t know how to help you.”
This prompted her to rise from the floor and embrace me, her small voice filled with regret as she said, “I’m sorry, Mommy.” Together, we wept—sharing our sadness, frustration, and anger, creating a memory that we would both carry with us forever.
By allowing Lucy to witness my tears, something I feared doing, she gained insight into how her struggles impacted those around her. She understood the shared frustration between us, and she recognized the depth of my love and commitment to her success. She learned that I would never give up on her.
After our heartfelt exchange, Lucy returned to her stool, and with my assistance, she completed her entire math assignment. Since that day, she hasn’t experienced another meltdown during homework sessions. Instead, she’s learning to manage her emotions, recognizing when to take breaks to avoid becoming overwhelmed. That’s all I can hope for.
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Summary
Witnessing my daughter struggle with her homework due to ADHD led me to show my emotions in a way I never thought I would. Crying together helped us connect on a deeper level, allowing her to understand the impact of her frustrations on those around her. Since then, she has learned to manage her emotions better, creating a more positive experience during homework time.