Raising a Child with Reactive Attachment Disorder

There was once a little girl who could illustrate a poignant visage of childhood; almond shaped eyes and black pig tails. Her father once wrote that she was outwardly beautiful, pleasant, convincing and charming, but unreachable, untrustworthy, distant, and full of rage but didn’t know why.

Now she knows but it was an arduous, painful, and exhausting journey; one that may never be completed but is more comfortable to travel than before.

This little girl was born into a troubled family, more her mother’s fault than anyone else’s and at four months of age she was left; abandoned and subsequently moved from home to home; five homes in all by the time she was two and a half. There was never one adult who was constant with attention, although her needs appeared to be met, and that little girl soon learned that adults could not be trusted - that they were the enemy, and most of all, dangerous to her well being.

She loved other little children, and felt especially protective of animals and younger kids whom she empathized with and doted upon. They were part of her world, but adults weren’t – they were merely wolves in sheep’s clothing, and while some could be nice, they represented fear and uncertainty. It was best to keep them at arms distant and she did…but she never knew why and most little ones don’t….

She remembered a little boy who was older than her and took care of her. He could be trusted because he was little, like her, and she felt his love because he was consistent and non-threatening.

It was the foster father who scared her and she would often get out of bed in the middle of the night and sleep under the bed with her dolls and stuffed animals so he wouldn’t find her.

She began to like her foster mother because she was pleasant to look at, kind, and spoke to her in a nice tone of voice, but then, one day, she disappeared and the little girl was moved again – torn from her foster mother and the boy she grew to love.