My son struggles with self-harm.
My sweet, loving, and gentle 7-year-old son engages in self-harming behaviors, and it truly breaks my heart.
The phrase “self-harm” is one I never expected to pair with “7-year-old son.” It brings to mind images of withdrawn teenagers hiding their pain, but for my son, Jamie, there is no secrecy involved when he self-harms. It’s loud and evident, impacting everyone around him.
This is a part of Jamie’s life. It’s how he manages the overwhelming sensory experiences that come with his autism. Jamie was diagnosed with autism when he was only 18 months old. At that time, my understanding of autism was very limited—essentially just what I had seen in films like Rain Man. Over the years since his diagnosis, autism has become a central aspect of my daily thoughts.
Jamie first displayed signs of self-harming behavior around the age of 2. One moment, he would be blissfully happy, and the next, he would be crying and dropping to his knees, bouncing up and down in distress. Initially, we didn’t understand what these episodes meant. As Jamie is currently nonverbal, we wondered if this was simply a tantrum stemming from his inability to articulate his feelings.
As time progressed, his behaviors intensified and lasted longer. We learned that what he was experiencing were meltdowns. Unlike tantrums, which involve some level of control and are often motivated by a desire for something, meltdowns stem from sensory overload and can leave the individual feeling frightened and disoriented. Identifying triggers was challenging, and calming Jamie down often took time.
The pattern began with knee bouncing, which then evolved into foot stomping and jumping from furniture. Eventually, Jamie started using his hands to hit his arms, legs, and feet until they were raw. Soon after, he began to slam his hands against walls and even his face during intense meltdowns. This last behavior was particularly hard to witness. Watching someone strike themselves repeatedly is a painful experience.
Imagine the physical act of hitting oneself. It’s difficult to sustain that kind of self-directed aggression, yet Jamie seems unable to stop, even as tears stream down his face. He alternates between slapping himself and punching his face, which is heartbreaking to see.
Two years ago, the frequency and intensity of his meltdowns reached alarming levels, sometimes lasting up to eight hours a day. These episodes could occur at any time, even waking him up in the middle of the night, with him half-asleep and hitting himself.
During these times, it feels as though two different boys reside within him—one calm and joyful, the other lost in a storm of emotion. When Jamie is in the midst of a meltdown, he transforms into a figure of rage, but instead of lashing out at the world, he directs that anger inward. Once the storm passes, he returns to his usual self, smiling and moving on with his day.
We have tried numerous approaches to alleviate his self-harming behavior. We adjusted his diet, conducted medical tests, and explored various therapies. We attempted to decipher the reasons behind his meltdowns in hopes of preventing them. Distraction through his favorite activities, occupational therapy, and even ignoring him during episodes were among the methods we explored.
In the early days, the only thing that seemed to calm him was going for drives while listening to music. I found myself lifting him up, placing him in the backseat, and driving for hours—sometimes even at 2 a.m.—just to soothe him.
In moments of frustration, I’ve shouted, cried, and even begged him to stop. I’ve restrained him and tried to reason with him while wishing he would take his anger out on me instead of himself. Oh, how I wished he would hit me instead. I could take it; just please, stop hurting yourself.
Over the past year, however, things have improved slightly. Now, he typically experiences three or four meltdowns a day, and on good days, they last only a few minutes. On tougher days, they can extend to an hour.
Despite my love for Jamie and my acceptance of his autism, each episode continues to break my heart a little more. I’ve learned better ways to handle his self-harming behaviors, remaining calmer during meltdowns and being more attuned to his sensory needs. I know that even if he has a meltdown that lasts an hour, it will eventually end and he will be okay.
For more insights and support on topics like these, check out this helpful article. Additionally, if you’re exploring options for starting a family, you may find valuable resources at Make a Mom and Johns Hopkins.
Summary:
My journey as a parent of a son with autism who engages in self-harm has been challenging and heart-wrenching. Through understanding and support, I’ve learned to manage his meltdowns better, but the emotional toll remains significant.