How Childhood Trauma Could Be Mistaken For ADHD

This article was published by The Atlantic on July 7, 2014 by Rebecca Ruiz Dr. Nicole Brown’s quest to understand her misbehaving pediatric patients began with a hunch. Brown was completing her residency at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, when she realized that many of her low-income patients had been diagnosed with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). These children lived in households and neighborhoods where violence and relentless stress prevailed. Their parents found them hard to manage and teachers described them as disruptive or inattentive. Brown knew these behaviors as classic symptoms of ADHD, a brain disorder characterized by impulsivity, hyperactivity, and an inability to focus. When Brown looked closely, though, she saw something else: trauma. Hyper-vigilance and dissociation, for example, could be mistaken for inattention. Impulsivity might be brought on by a stress response in overdrive. “Despite our best efforts in referring them to behavioral therapy and starting them on

Below is a story describing the importance of a Life Book, one of our many programs at A Family For Every Child: “18-year-old set to graduate next month after 16 years in Arizona’s CPS foster system” By Mary K. Reinhart The Arizona Republic Yvette Winsor is just about to graduate from high school after 16 years in the foster care system and at least 18 different placements.  Her main source of self-history and foster history is from her Life Book.  She has been through one failed adoption, one near-adoption, two guardians, several shelters, group homes, and several foster parents and siblings.  Some research shows that for every new foster placement, a child has potential to fall a semester behind.  By these statistics, Yvette should probably not be graduating this year, showing her perseverance and dedication to herself. “Now a poised, articulate young woman just weeks away from high-school graduation, she says telling

“Close your eyes, Mom!”  He commands.   His hands are held behind his back and his face conveys the excitement of the moment.  He cannot wait until Mother’s Day.   It’s Friday afternoon and school is finally out.  Sunday is an eternity away.  “But it’s not even Mother’s Day yet.”  I explain with a smile.  “I know, but you don’t have to wait that long.  You can open them now.”  He presents the packages with a flourish.  His face is full of joy, anticipation and laughter.  I find the most pleasure in my life comes from watching my children enjoy theirs. The presents are magnets and cards made at school.  The cards are written in his terrible nine year old boy scribble, but I can tell he has tried to write as neatly as possible.  I can see the effort he has made to make his letters uniform, and keep his mistakes