24/10/2024
A really lovely and helpful story. A worthwhile read.
I've had a go at writing a children's story to communicate what PDA might be to kids.
Scroll down to read the story.
Edit: my pesky demand avoidand brain has reacted to the quantity of passionate and well-intentioned comments and seized up so, sorry to say, I'm turning commenting off. I do my best to listen to feedback, and my views on PDA are continuing to evolve thanks to it, but I'm also aware of my limits and, as I can no longer cope with checking comments, it feels farer all round to turn them off.
I’m not PDA!
Maisie is sitting on the floor of her bedroom, imagining she’s having a magical adventure with her favourite doll, when she hears the front door slam. Tommy is home from the children’s clinic. She peeks her head out of the doorway just as he storms up the stairs, his face red with anger.
“I’m not PDA!” Tommy shouts, throwing his backpack onto his bed.
Maisie blinks, confused. "What’s PDA?"
Tommy huffs, crossing his arms. “The doctor said it’s a type of autism. It means my brain works differently than other kids', but it doesn’t! I’m the same as everyone else!”
Maisie tilts her head. She doesn’t know much about autism, but she knows what it feels like to feel different. Sometimes, she feels like her thoughts work in ways other kids don't understand. She doesn’t always know why.
She sits on the edge of Tommy’s bed, trying to be careful not to make him more upset. "How does being PDA make you different?”
Tommy groans. “It means I avoid doing things other people think are easy, like… wearing a coat when it’s freezing outside.
The doctor said I do stuff like that because my brain is wired differently.”
Maisie’s eyes widen. That reminds her of something.
“I do that too! Mom’s always telling us to wear coats and scarves and hats when it’s cold. But you and I, we argue about it every day!”
Tommy frowns. “But all kids hate putting coats on. It’s not just me. So it doesn’t mean I’m PDA, does it?”
Maisie blinks again. If all kids hated coats, then why did the doctor say it was part of being PDA? It makes little sense.
“So… is that all? Does being PDA just mean not liking coats?” Maisie asks.
Tommy shakes his head. “No, the doctor said it means getting anxious a lot. I never get anxious!”
Anxious. Maisie knows that word. It means feeling worried or uncomfortable inside. She thinks Tommy often gets worried and uncomfortable, and that’s why he gets angry a lot. She feels like that a lot too—like when she has to talk to someone new or when things don't go the way she expects. But it doesn’t make her get angry and shout like Tommy does. She wants to tell Tommy she feels anxious, but something stops her. She doesn’t want him to get angry again.
Tommy keeps talking. “And the doctor said being PDA means wanting to be in control all the time.”
Maisie thinks about that. She doesn’t enjoy being bossy because she worries it will upset other people. But Tommy seems to want to be in charge a lot. He’s always telling her what to do and even their mom and dad.
“You do like to be in control, don’t you, Tommy?” Maisie asks, thinking he’ll agree.
But Tommy’s face turns red again. “No, I don’t! I never want to be in control. Take it back!”
Maisie feels a knot in her stomach. She doesn’t like it when Tommy tells her to take back her words. It makes her feel like she’s being squeezed into a tiny space that doesn’t fit. But she also doesn’t want to upset him more.
“I take it back. You don’t like to be in control,” Maisie says, even though it doesn’t feel right inside.
“See! I’m not PDA!” Tommy shouts, before running to his own bedroom and slamming the door.
Maisie sits quietly, staring at the floor. She’s so confused. If Tommy doesn’t think he’s PDA, why does everything he says about it seem to fit? And is it really true that all children avoid things like putting on coats? She needs answers.
She visits her friend Ivy. Ivy is a year older and always seems to know things that Maisie doesn’t.
Maisie knocks on Ivy’s door, and when Ivy opens it, Maisie asks, “Do all kids refuse to wear coats when it’s cold?”
Ivy looks at her like she’s asked a strange question. “No. Most kids wear coats when it’s cold. Why wouldn’t they?”
Maisie’s head spins even more. If most kids wear coats and don’t mind it, then maybe what Tommy says about PDA isn’t something all kids do after all.
That night, as Maisie lies in bed, she thinks about everything. Tommy doesn’t want to be PDA, but she remembers how he struggles with things that seem easy for others, like wearing coats or staying calm. Maisie thinks about herself, too. She also finds it hard to do some things, and she often feels anxious, like she doesn’t fit in with other kids.
Just as she’s drifting off to sleep, Maisie has a thought that makes her feel warm inside. What if she is PDA? If that’s true, then maybe she isn’t strange, or different in a bad way. Maybe she’s just like other PDA children—kids whose brains work differently but still in a human way. Maybe, just maybe, being PDA isn’t something to be afraid of. It’s part of who she is.
But she remembers that PDA children want to be in control, which doesn’t fit her at all. She feels disappointed because PDA can’t explain why she’s different from other children if she doesn’t enjoy being in control. She takes a long time to go to sleep because not knowing why she’s different makes her anxious.
Tommy is angry the next morning at breakfast.
“Are you OK?” Mom asks.
“No!” Tommy says and throws his cereal spoon at the wall.
“What’s the matter?” says Mom.
“I’m not PDA!” Tommy shouts.
Mom frowns. “But the doctor said you are, Tommy.”
Tommy’s face goes red with anger. “He’s wrong because I don’t avoid things other children do. I don’t get anxious and I don’t want to be in control.”
Maisie is keen to hear what their mom says because she wants to figure out if she could be PDA, even if she doesn’t want to be in control.
Mom says, “The doctor said children don’t always know if they’re feeling anxious.”
“I know I’m not anxious,” says Tommy. “I’m not PDA.”
“Do children always know if they want to be in control?” Maisie asks Mom.
“I don’t want to be in control,” says Tommy. “I’m not PDA.”
Mom says, “The doctor said nothing about that, but I expect it might be true.”
“No, it isn’t,” says Tommy. “I know I’m not PDA.”
But Maisie smiles because she thinks she is PDA. She isn’t an alien after all. She’s a proper little girl with a brain that’s rare but known about.
And that makes her feel happy.
