I am the father of a child with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). My son Woodrow, “Woody,” is now 23 years old. His diagnosis and treatment began when he was about 6 years old.

As with many fathers of my generation, I helped to raise my sons with my wife, but watched as my wife did most of the heavy lifting. My Father was the youngest of the “Greatest Generation,” and was as traditional as a father could have been back in the 60’s. I helped to raise my boys as a 2.0 version of my Father. I went to birthing classes and was in the delivery room when they were born.  I changed diapers, helped with feedings, babysitting, and fell in love with participating in their early childhood rearing.

But, I was preoccupied with my job and many of the observations of Woody’s early childhood were left to Mom. Having no real training manual for parenting, I was not fully aware of some of the early signs that Woody might have some sensory issues, or that could even be a possibility. I had old-school phrases such as  “late bloomer,” “quirky,” and “sensitive,” bouncing around in my head as Woody grew from an infant, to toddler, to grade-schooler. But, as with molecules, germs, death and The Kardashians, SPD has existed since the beginning of civilization. It just took someone to discover it.

When Woody first started going to the STAR Institute, the facility was not the STAR Institute of today and the condition known as SPD was not called SPD. The diagnosis and treatment was still in infancy. By the time my wife, Pam, started telling me about SPD, I was more than willing to consider it might be something affecting Woody. We were past the point of thinking that Woody would grow out of this.

Woody has always been very smart. As a child his verbal skills and verbal recognition were off the charts. I’m sure most parents think this about their child, but when Woody was not yet 2 months old, I swear he knew what was going on. He knew me, I knew him. I had such a strong sense of the man I thought he would grow up to be. He started talking at 9 months, and had such awareness it seemed as if he had been here before. Reincarnation entered my mind, though not seriously.  Woody’s brain knew life, while his body’s coordination floundered around like a machine with a short in the wiring. As it  turns out, that ended up being a decent analogy.

When exposed to too much stimuli, I would look at Woody, imagining that he was a computer and we had opened up too many applications, so the little hour glass would just twirl and twirl, trying to process all of this information. But instead of twirling and waiting, or flashing a “frowny face” on the screen, Woody would freak out. An inconsolable, melted down brain. He would cover his ears whenever he heard a noise he didn’t like, as most kids and people do – but it didn’t have to be very loud. Even worse, I started to watch him endure the ANTICIPATION for a loud noise to occur. The fact that it might happen had Woody literally covering his ears with the palm of his hands and squeezing his head like a vice, desperately trying to keep potential noises from entering his brain. He was on constant, high alert.

So, yes, by the time Pam researched SPD, I was very much on board. If brushing Woody’s arms and legs with a soft, plastic brush, and wrapping him up in a blanket like a burrito was going to sooth this little boy, I was all in.

Obviously SPD awareness has spread and treatment has made such great advancements since Woody was diagnosed. This is largely in thanks to the wonderful, brilliant work of Dr. Lucy Jane Miller and everyone at the STAR Institute.

With so many medical conditions, each case, each child, each situation is so vastly different. The point of writing this is not to compare the levels or severities or situations. When “spectrum” came into my vernacular, it allowed me to identify more than rank. As for Woodrow, he is and has always been fully aware of his situation. As an “old soul” he seemed as relieved as we were to find out about SPD. We are blessed that he has the awareness, though the responsibility of being able to control or manage it can sometimes be doubly taxing and confidence crushing for him. It’s like he has another mind and body inside his own, where he is a conscious observer, only able to do so much about it. He is hyper aware of how non-SPD/spectrum people behave, and desperately wants to make his mind and body “be like them”, and can lose confidence in social settings because of it.

I’m saying this because Woody has and will always have my heart, because of his awareness . He knows why he suffers from extreme anxiety, paralysis of action, struggles with self-esteem, social interactions, and with school even though his I.Q. is chart-topping. His pain comes from being a caring, loving, empathetic and wonderful young man. He loves, and cares, and hugs, and misses, and kisses, and knows with the emotional part of his brain that feels. It hurts my heart and makes it swell because he has those abilities, when others do not. It’s not the easy way out – it’s the hard way out, but he has the ability to find that light, organize his brain, and walk through that door. Take a “Woody brain” and get it to the light, manage the issues, and you just might have an evolutionary brain. He’s not the only one; he’s just the only one that I know and love. 

And, now, with the work that the STAR Institute, and his whole support group, I think he is starting to see himself as I see him.

We can love (both tough and easy), and push, and participate, and cheer, but ultimately it is up to Woodrow to figure this out. The STAR Institute, his Mom, his dear brother, and his wonderful friends all “get” Woody and have given him the tools and the opportunity to know, without a doubt, that he can succeed in life, and more importantly, be happy. He has the ability to be happy and live happy, and that is such a gift. But, it’s up to him. My heart can hurt for Woody, but it’s his heart that will determine his future.

What is it like being an SPD Father? It’s like being the Father of any child that you love and want to provide for their best opportunity. It’s challenging and wonderful, it’s hopeful and worrisome, but I know that I would not want Woody to be anything other than the man he is becoming. There is not an asterisk to being the Father of an SPD child. It’s just being a Dad, and being proud and humbled and blessed, regardless of the ups and downs of his journey. Parenting brings focus, protection, and action to the forefront, and other people, other situations, or anything outside of being there for your child no longer matters. Having the support and knowledge of the STAR Institute gave us an answer and then a goal, and now an idea of how to manage in the future…
 

If you are looking for SPD treatment for yourself or your child fill out a child or adult intake form now to be treated at STAR Institute Treatment Center or search our Treatment Directory to find services in your area.

For the latest SPD research and strategies attend our 20th International 3S Symposium in Denver, Colorado October 6-7! Learn more.

Curt Sims and Pam Savage Sims live in Denver. Woody is finishing his degree in Computer Science at Trinity University in San Antonio. Pam joined the Board of Directors of the STAR Institute and is working to raise awareness of SPD. Her focus is SPD in the teenage and adult community what we can do to support the transitions and hurdles that affect those with  sensory challenges. Please feel free to contact her with your stories. She really loves to hear from those in the sensory community. Email: Pamsavage@aol.com