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ASD Daughter doesn't like me talking to anyone

NAS78463

Hi there,

My almost 5 year old daughter who has just been diagnosed ASD but would have been aspergers has never liked me talking to anyone and it's getting really difficult and isolating. She doesn't even like me talking to the cat!!  She gets super ratty and can have a meltdown over it which causes me to feel really isolated and unable to build connections. She has been like this since she was around 2 years old and the health visitor who came to our house saw it for herself as when she got fed up of me talking she got a cup of water from the table and tipped it over my head! Now she just gets really cross and aggressive or upset....Yesterday my friends little boy hurt himself and I went to see if he was okay and my daughter lashed out at me...It's so tough. 

Has anyone else had any experience of this?

Thanks

Parents

  • Hey, I don't know if this helps at all, but this sounds like the same emotional response I used to get as a child. I don't recall lashing out, but I remember how it felt when Mum would "abandon" me like that. For me, it was made worse by knowing that I shouldn't be upset about it.

    I was fine if I was included in the conversation, but otherwise, even in conversations that were just between my parents, I'd feel utterly helpless, and genuinely betrayed whenever I got left behind. I knew that I missed things when she wasn't helping me. It felt as if, just at random, she'd get tired of me, and flip a switch at the back of my head that made me deaf, blind, and mute. For convenience, or, even worse, in yet another unfathomable effort towards Not Being Rude.

    It honestly felt as if I was diabetic, and being taught how to "share" by having a string of strangers casually come up and rip my insulin pump out of my flesh, without warning, and the goal was to "learn" how to... not be upset about it?

    Fair warning though, this didn't stop when school started. Every home time, I'd launch into a dissection of everything I'd done that day and not stop until I was satisfied that I'd got it "right". Even in the lessons, I'd always buddy up with the person next to me and essentially train them to be my assistant! (I never got a real one.)

    That was the crux of it for me, I think. Mum was the only person I could trust to understand me, and therefore she was also the only person who could be trusted to accurately interpret whatever the heck was going on around me. Even more infuriating was the knowledge that she actually couldn't be trusted 100% of the time. Because, fallible human is fallible.

    Gosh, this is actually getting a bit lengthy, and a bit more cross than I was expecting!

    For me, what really helped was badgering my mum into admitting that she didn't know the rules either. I still needed her for emotional reassurance, but knowing that she could get it wrong meant that, maybe, sometimes, I could get it right without her watching over me. I really can't emphasise enough how vital it was for me to have it confirmed that no-one really knew, and that I was allowed to simply follow my instincts and do whatever felt right to me, instead of perpetually feeling like I was being left out of a conversation that I didn't even want to be in.

Reply

  • Hey, I don't know if this helps at all, but this sounds like the same emotional response I used to get as a child. I don't recall lashing out, but I remember how it felt when Mum would "abandon" me like that. For me, it was made worse by knowing that I shouldn't be upset about it.

    I was fine if I was included in the conversation, but otherwise, even in conversations that were just between my parents, I'd feel utterly helpless, and genuinely betrayed whenever I got left behind. I knew that I missed things when she wasn't helping me. It felt as if, just at random, she'd get tired of me, and flip a switch at the back of my head that made me deaf, blind, and mute. For convenience, or, even worse, in yet another unfathomable effort towards Not Being Rude.

    It honestly felt as if I was diabetic, and being taught how to "share" by having a string of strangers casually come up and rip my insulin pump out of my flesh, without warning, and the goal was to "learn" how to... not be upset about it?

    Fair warning though, this didn't stop when school started. Every home time, I'd launch into a dissection of everything I'd done that day and not stop until I was satisfied that I'd got it "right". Even in the lessons, I'd always buddy up with the person next to me and essentially train them to be my assistant! (I never got a real one.)

    That was the crux of it for me, I think. Mum was the only person I could trust to understand me, and therefore she was also the only person who could be trusted to accurately interpret whatever the heck was going on around me. Even more infuriating was the knowledge that she actually couldn't be trusted 100% of the time. Because, fallible human is fallible.

    Gosh, this is actually getting a bit lengthy, and a bit more cross than I was expecting!

    For me, what really helped was badgering my mum into admitting that she didn't know the rules either. I still needed her for emotional reassurance, but knowing that she could get it wrong meant that, maybe, sometimes, I could get it right without her watching over me. I really can't emphasise enough how vital it was for me to have it confirmed that no-one really knew, and that I was allowed to simply follow my instincts and do whatever felt right to me, instead of perpetually feeling like I was being left out of a conversation that I didn't even want to be in.

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