Battles of a Chinese AuDHD Family

Look, it was my fault to begin with. I didn’t want this reunion, but my big mouth opened and I saw myself in slow motion reciting those words like a robot on prompt. “Suuuree, lets meet up with the kids and catch up…”. SIGH.

It’s been five years since I last went back to Malaysia. After incessant pestering from a relative close to my age on Facebook to meet up, I had a meal with her with my AuDHD 7-yo, and ALREADY getting the unfavourable “hmmm…” when my child rejected the noodle dish and I didn’t try to force him to eat it.

I didn’t feel the need to explain, for one, he is not used to Malaysian food being Aussie and a quarter Caucasian, two, he was on stimulant meds, and I knew he was not going to eat much anyway. 

I had mentally prepared for these interactions. I was holding my fortitude. After all, even my Caucasian in-laws have managed to blabbed out “Oh he’s just being an energetic little boy!!” or “Oh he’s just trying to get attention!” – so I’ve mastered the advocacy scripts to declare my child has ADHD. "They get overstimulated and need routines to wind down" and "they also get understimulated and need help regulating to not get into trouble out of boredom", etc.

But I was still unsure if I should navigate the hidden landmines of disclosing my child’s diagnoses (no, our whole freaking way of life as an AuDHD family), or just totally avoid it altogether with my Malaysian relatives and we’ll see them in another 5 years. If not, it will inevitably result in the judgement – I am a permissive parent that lets my kids disobey me to get what they want.

As I was saying, instead of “bye” I let my people pleaser autopilot go on and organized another meet up, this time with my sister’s kid at a pool. We head to the pool.

Stock photo of children playing in a pool, not actual depictions of author's family.

There is one water gun, there were 4 kids. Prior to that, I had told my son “Your aunty kept this water gun for you since the last time we were here, now it’s returned to you!”. His 5-year-old neurotypical cousin wanted a turn. Her mum (my sister) said, “you can have a turn after him”. "NO!” My son yelled. I turned to my son and asked him “Is it ok to let her have a turn after you?” He replied with a very firm “NO!”.

No biggie, we’ve resolved such disputes many times over. From the outside, it looked like my son had not learnt to share and was being a brat and a meanie to his younger cousin.

But in reality, we have established for years, that if something belongs to you, you can choose to share or not share, but we always consider being generous and kind. And somehow in the turn of events, with both kids with underdeveloped executive functioning, a scuffle ensued and intervening adults (yeah it’s me) switched the rules on him – that he was to share because he gets to keep it later anyway. The cousin snatches it away with vengeance. Cue meltdown. Nobody understood. Screaming and kicking, I firmly carried him out of the pool to get changed. My head wasn’t straight. I felt all eyes on me – on us.

Children with ADHD are understood to have executive function delay up to 30% compared to their peers, and I can attest to this as my 7-year old routinely chooses to play with kids 2 years younger, where their regulation abilities are level.

Add the impulse control to autism with challenges with sudden changes in expectations, and I know it is extremely difficult for him to see the big picture when rules change on something he is very engaged in at the moment.

As we emerged from the change rooms, filled with ear-splitting screams amplified by the bathroom tiles, the relative (not my sister) marched over and began to lecture me about “nipping that in the bud”, “he’s not gonna make it in the real world”, “不可以喔！/BU KE YI WOR!” – ie, NO WAY HE GETS AWAY WITH THAT/ SMACK HIM NOW.

I can assure you I fully would have loved to say:

1.      He’s not “getting away” with it. We will all have a moment to reflect and learn later what went wrong and how could we speak up/ stand up for ourselves next time. You can’t teach kids when they are dysregulated.

2.      It is not his fault when grown-ups change the rules on kids and expect them to roll over and obey.

3.      My child is AuDHD; his brain works differently and it is developmentally challenging for him to regulate himself with the skill matched for his age.

But instead, I just said “yup, I’ll sort it out.” I was already exhausted, I didn’t want the interaction to continue by divulging his diagnoses, why he is medicated, explaining my parenting style, etc.

Becoming an ADHD family as Malaysian Chinese and many other cultures, is a battle on two fronts. We have a battle internally – readjusting our expectations for our kids behaviours that are so much at odds with our cultural values – harmony, order, propriety, filial piety, to name a few. There is also the external battle to challenge these values so important to our Chinese identity. What does harmony mean if kids don’t feel safe to be themselves to fit in? What does order and proper behaviour mean if they aren’t allowed space to meet their sensorimotor needs? What does filiality mean if it’s just blind obedience to parents because they want to “save face”?

Going back to my home country over Chinese New Year brought that battle to the forefront for me. I was fighting between the conditioning to “behave”, put my kids in place to prove I am a worthy parent, and standing up for my child and asking ppl to mind their own friggin’ business. It is easier said than done. I have so much to learn – how to be consistent with my child, be consistent with my understanding of neurodivergent minds, how to bounce back from uninformed unfair judgements on my family.

I suppose there are no life hacks with sharing a story like this.

I can only hope that this belief that I am fighting to accept: that I am a good parent, my child is a good kid, we just have different brains – will eventually pay off with him being a well-adjusted, happy and healthy person, and keep our relationship anchored with trust and connection.

 About the Author

Jia is a Malaysian migrant mother of 2 AuDHD children with sensory processing challenges, learning disability and twice exceptional(2e) profile. She listens to contemplative worship music and gangsta rap to centre herself amongst the chaos of life.