Excerpt from Trauma Through a Child’s Eyes (By Peter A. Levine and Maggie Kline) reprinted with permission from publisher.

Signs and Symptoms of Trauma in Children

Other symptoms of constriction that you might observe in your child are: a stiff or awkward appearance, rigid gait with poor coordination, or tense neck and shoulder muscles. His insides may feel tight, and the ability to see, hear, smell, feel, and taste may be come dampened so that food just isn’t interesting. Your child’s focus may then become narrowed towards sources of possible danger even though there are none. This constricted awareness serves to reduce anxious feelings. This can prevent your child from literally feeling like his is falling apart. However, over time, this tension can recreate the very feelings the child is trying to avoid. (The same is true for adults as well!)

Unfortunately, in this state, without the guidance and safety provided by an adult, it’s unlikely that a child can relax enough to notice what’s around – even if what’s around them could be rewarding. Relaxing would mean letting down the guard of “protection.” This shutting down was meant to be temporary. When it is not (like in the example of Sandra below) constriction can lead to both physical pain and the loss of fun and excitement in exploring and enjoying simple pleasure. Because the world is now perceived as a dangerous place, healthy risk-taking – as in exuberant play – is, sadly, avoided.

When I first read the above I didn’t understand it because frankly, it’s a little bit over my head. But I do understand it enough to know that Gage does live in a hyper state of arousal because he has been conditioned to always be on alert because of all of the medical interventions he’s endured. He definitely has an awkward gait (walk) that I always notice. I notice it enough that I just said a couple of days ago to Julian, “Do you see how he walks? It’s so strange. Like he is physically hurting.”

The part of this that really struck me is “This can prevent your child from literally feeling like his is falling apart.” Mostly the statement make me sad, because this is so obvious, yet could be looked at like a personality trait. Like I have an uptight child who takes everything seriously. Gage wasn’t always like this though.

If I look back to the days before drastic medical interventions took place, Gage was a child who was generally happy although still needed some help because of slow development. He was a smiling, laid back (I know…I long for the day) toddler with a better disposition than he currently has (understatement). It seems so obvious now, but of course his treatment for PKD would impact who he is — drastically even. I didn’t see the big picture before but I see it now. I understood and tried to help him navigate feelings as they came up, but I think there was only so much I could do. Or that Gage would let me do. Because, it seems, he was just trying to figure out a way to survive. A way that worked for him at the time and he’s still doing it. He’s still in survival mode; trying to keep from falling apart.

As we navigate his mental health issues I’m glad the book is helping me understand that all of these behaviors of late; the suicidal feelings, the anger/aggression are his normal. And Gage is dealing the best way he can. We’re slowly unraveling the tangled mess but the unraveling is very complicated with several twists and turns. And it’s not fun to watch or facilitate.

Sadly, I think Gage is a long way from being able to digest and understand his feelings around what he has endured and even farther away from expressing them in a way that we can all understand. But this book is helping me see that just by my knowing the how and why he is the way he is is enough for now. I hope healing for him will come.