What Looks Like… Isn’t Always What Is…

From the outside, Eli often looks like any other kid.  What you don’t see is the amount of work his brain is doing behind the scenes.

In real life, that can look like incomplete tasks, long pauses mid-sentence, confused looks… and sometimes, shutdown.

Through a lot of trial and error, I’ve learned that Eli needs simple instructions — no more than three steps at a time. Anything more than that needs to be written down. We use tons of dry erase markers in this house.

A.M. and P.M. hygiene routines on the bathroom mirror.
Bathing steps on the shower wall.
Medicine reminders on the garage door window.

I’ve learned that when Eli pauses mid-sentence, it usually means he doesn’t have — or can’t recall — the word he needs.  This used to lead to almost immediate frustration on both sides of the conversation and, ultimately, Eli shutting down… and me never knowing what he was trying to communicate or ask.

Over time, I’ve learned to use those pauses differently.  Now, I ask questions — very specific questions — to get at what he’s trying to communicate.

Is it a place you’ve been?
A person you know?
What did you do there?
When do you usually see them?

I’m trying to gather anything about the who, what, when, where, and why, so I can help him find the words he’s missing.

I’ve also learned that certain facial expressions (or even automatic responses) don’t always mean Eli understands what we’ve just talked about.

It took years for him to understand what the word “sure” actually meant.

I would ask his preference, and he would answer.
Then I’d follow up with, “Are you sure?”
And every time, he’d say, “No.”
I’d ask, “You’re not sure?”
He’d get frustrated — “No!”
So I’d say, “Okay… so you don’t want the red cup you just chose?”
And he’d respond, completely confused, “Yes, I DOOOO want red the cup!”

What looked like inconsistency… was actually a misunderstanding of the language.

Learning this helped me realize Eli isn’t trying to be defiant or difficult — he simply might not understand, or have the words to communicate his confusion.

Most of the time (especially between the ages of five and eleven) these situations escalated all the way to shutdown.

And that usually came by way of raised voices, tears, and sometimes physical reactions — pinching, throwing things, kicking, flailing arms.

Think of it like this: when a two-year-old doesn’t yet have the words or the tools to communicate frustration, fear, or anger… what do they do?

They throw toys.
They bite.
They kick and scream.

Eli’s behavior wasn’t because he was trying to act out or get attention like a toddler.
It’s because, even now at 13, his language and processing abilities don’t always match his age — especially when he’s anxious. In moments of stress or pressure, those abilities can regress and show up much younger than his actual age.

Learning how to work within Eli’s world instead of trying to push him into ours has made the biggest difference in how I communicate with him today — and how I encourage others to show up for him as well.

What looks like defiance is most often confusion.
What looks like not listening is often him feeling like he’s drinking information from a fire hose.
What looks like a breakdown might be frustration from not having the words to explain what’s going on in his head.
What looks like shutdown is most often his brain reaching its limit.

From the outside, you might see a “normal” kid misbehaving.
I see a kid who is working incredibly hard — sometimes twice as hard — just to keep up with a world that moves faster than his brain does.

🪙 Nickel from the Jar:
Sometimes we need to learn how to work within a child’s world instead of expecting them to navigate one that feels overwhelming and confusing.

Susan