Reactive Attachment Disorder - A Perspective

This posting is going to be very difficult for me, but I feel that there is a need for people to become educated about RAD - Reactive Attachment Disorder. I know that some of this is going to be difficult to understand, relate to, and/or believe. Still, please try to keep an open mind.

RAD is something that has affected me first hand and I must honestly say that it has been the single most difficult part of my life. The situation is hefty in two ways. My family adopted two little black boys when I was six years old. The oldest boy, Jeriel, was almost 5 at the time, and the younger brother, Joshua, was nearly 2.

The first difficulty was the massive amount of racism and criticism that we received for adopting two black children. Surprisingly, the negativity came equally from the white and black communities in our surrounding area. I suppose it’s not all that unusual, but being judged and verbally harassed at the age of 6 was awful. Not only did I not understand why people would ever treat my family so horribly for trying to help children, but I also began to develop some serious anger issues. 

The second difficulty was RAD. 

Jeriel and Joshua’s parents were drug addicts and alcoholics, as were their grandparents, and great grandparents. We know this because every single one of them died in jail, having been arrested for numerous reasons, only some of which included drug possession, distribution, armed robbery, and violence. Jeriel and Josh were found living in a tent by a river in northern Pennsylvania. Their parents, who were hardly ever there, were eventually found and arrested for drug possession, child abuse, and severe neglect. Thus, the boys, Josh as an infant, and Jeriel as a toddler, were matriculated into the social service system. 

My family is wonderful. My parents love each other passionately and my sister and I have grown up in an amazing environment. We have provided that same environment for the boys ever since they arrived at our house. The first week was rocky and it only went downhill from there. Jeriel and Joshua had never been taught to talk. They grunted, pointed, threw fits, and just took whatever it was that they wanted. We immediately began to teach them to speak, helping them learn the alphabet, words, and speech patterns. They also had never been made to eat good food. They ate Cheerios, peanut butter and jelly, and that was it. If they didn’t want to eat something that was put before them, they would throw up. Literally. Every where. It was disgusting. A quite natural diet though; we all lost weight because we didn’t eat much either. Eventually we got them to eat well and to enjoy food, but not in your typical strategy. They threw up, they had to eat it. All of it. The food on their plate and the vomit on it too. Sound gross? Yeah. Being thrown up on at every meal is just as nasty, I promise. So they learned that they actually liked good food, began to eat well, gain weight, and their bodies became very healthy. The eye doctor said that they both had under-developed eyes due to lack of eye contact as infants. He also said that we were doing a great job at bringing them up to speed. He had no idea how chaotic home life was becoming, and he had no idea that he was the only encouragement we had had since the adoption. We had called the social worker on our case to try to get some help, insight, advice, and direction as to how to best help these children. The social workers took weeks to get back to us, and then, they told us we were on our own and that they didn’t owe us any sort of assistance. So we just kept trying our best.

We began to visit psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, and more social workers, and we got used to their responses. They threatened to take us all away from my parents because my parents “obviously weren’t treating us well.” That was such a crock! How dare they even threaten us when they have NO proof that 1) there is any abuse happening, 2) we are all extremely active and healthy and show no signs of domestic violence, and 3) my sister and I were happy and content with my parents. The boys complained about everything all the time so that was nothing new. So, the professionals and social workers told us that we were crazy, that we were the problem, that we needed medication, and that we were "abusing" the boys by holding them to standards of action that were appropriate or inappropriate. I never understood how they could say that to us, when society itself holds us all to standards of what is socially acceptable and what is not. We didn’t hit them, we didn’t scream at them, we didn’t abuse them in any way shape or form. We clothed them, fed them, housed them, played with them and taught them to speak, to read, to write, and to learn. We loved them. But their problems lie so much deeper than we could ever know, and somehow love and positive action just wasn’t enough.

Jeriel and Josh quickly adjusted to life at home. We were all home-schooled and did our studies in the mornings, then played all afternoon until dinner and bed. When they didn’t get what they wanted or thought they deserved, they would scream and yell and destroy things. It didn’t matter what it was. Toys, dishes, clothes, rugs or carpet, pictures, posters, bedding, you name it. I vividly remember the day I watched them pick up one of our new kittens, and throw it onto the gravel driveway. The kitten died. I can’t even count how many times I was punched in the face or beaten up, or how many times I’ve been told to “die and go to hell”. Those things toughen you up as a little kid.

They also had a thing for excrement. If you made them mad, they would pee on the floor, the wall, the bed, the clothes...or, they would poop. It was very common to slip on the stairs, have to air out the house every day, and even more common to catch them pooping in their hands and painting the walls. We spent over $42,000 in repairs, replacements, and cleaning crews. It’s nearly impossible to sell a house that smells like a port-a-pottie, and my sister and I never invited friends over to play or spend the night.

Those are just a few of the symptoms of RAD that we have experienced. In retrospect, the early years were awful but somewhat easier than more recent times. Jeriel was accepted into the Marines just last week, after a 4 year stay at a ranch for mentally and emotionally disturbed children in Montana. The doors opened for him to go there and we took advantage of the opportunity. It started when one day both he and Josh decided one afternoon that they wanted to make a home video. My mom said that was okay and set up the camera. She sat watching as they began to disclose their plans to torture and murder us. They had a graphic description of each torture and death, and it made for about an hour and a half of video. Mom was stunned. She immediately went to my Dad and they had a serious discussion about what to do. We were all scared, but we were determined to try and make something good out of our circumstances. We all began researching avenues to try to get them into outside situations so that others could see how they really were and maybe there were people out there who could do better than we had done up to that point...maybe that would help them. Over the next month, we gathered massive amounts of information and after talking with several different places, we decided on the ranch in Montana. Soon after we had made our deposit, we were on our way to move him there. He was excited to go. I can count the times he wrote and/or called on one hand. I’m glad he’s in the Marines now. I hope that it works almost like reverse psychology and that he can come out with feelings, emotions, and a conscience. I would love to have a healthy relationship with my brother but I have no idea if that is even possible.

Shortly after we found the ranch in Montana, we found a therapist in NY who was willing to work with us and with Josh. He is a very experienced and respected professional and has many success stories in helping RAD kids recover. He has been our most true advocate, the first man who had ever looked at our situation and didn’t blame us. His name is Dr. Weidman. Dr. Weidman has been seeing Josh for the past 3 years and doing therapy sessions with him alone, with my parents, with my mom alone, and involving my sister and I occasionally. Joshua is currently in a residential facility in upstate New York. It has been a long hard road and he has made little to no progress. The local school district has been funding his stay at the facility for the past 2 years, 1) because they placed him there due to his refusal to complete school work (which is required by NY state law until you’re at least 16), and 2) we could never foot the bill (at $100,000 a year, that’s some pricey stuff). The school’s committee has been gracious to our family. They’ve listened intently to Dr. Weidman and they’ve come to a decent understanding of the situation, what is necessary to help Joshua, and what is not happening at his current home. They have officially decided that Josh needs to be placed in another home for disturbed juvenile delinquents or that he needs to find a job and live out on his own. Until he gets arrested for killing someone, or distributing drugs, or armed robbery, that is. They’ve recognized that he cannot and should not come home to live with my parents. He, like his brother, is very violent, oppositional, and lacks the ability to discern basically anything, make appropriate judgement calls, and live functionally in society. Who knows what will happen in the end.

I know this is a HUGE entry, and I’m sorry for being long-winded...it’s just so important to me. I want you to understand how difficult it is to be a RAD kid, how scared and disturbed and angry they are, while at the same time understanding a little of what it’s like to be the family of such a child. It's so easy to pass judgement on something that you think you have your mind wrapped around. Please consider that it is more complicated than it looks. An absolutely wonderful book to read and really get a better feel about what RAD is, how it affects all involved, and how it needs to be treated, is this book called Building the Bonds of Attachment. PLEASE, if you have any interest at all in social work, psychology, or helping others, please get this book and read it.

Don’t just believe what people tell you. Don’t think that our social work system is perfect. Don’t think that this kind of behavior doesn’t exist. And please, do not think that America’s parents and children are better than in any other country just because we don’t have “orphanages” where parents dump their children off when they don’t want them. Our orphanages are on a much smaller scale and we like to call them Foster Homes. Parents still drop off their children, it’s just that there’s a middle man called Social Services who helps structure things along the way. I would really like to lay into the topic of Social Services because it is still an organization that makes me incredibly frustrated and angry...but, to keep this entry as short as it can be, I’ll save that for a later date.

Thank you for reading.

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