Does your child seem to be attracted to drama and turmoil?  Is he or she constantly rejecting the safe and stable people in their lives in favor for those that only bring heartache, confusion and ultimately rejection?  Does it seem like the closer you try to get, the harder your child pushes away?  Then you may very well be living with an abandoholic.

Haven’t heard of the term abandoholic?  Don’t fret my friends, as it is a term that I myself have only recently stumbled across.  As you may have guessed an abandoholic is someone who has become addicted to the rush of emotions that accompany being abandoned.

When someone has been hurt deeply, or repeatedly over a long period of time, a change begins to take place on the inside, and instead of feeling loving feelings towards those that keep you safe, secure, and cared for, the person begins to equate love with insecurity, and fear.  The drama and the rush of emotions that come along with someone who is unstable or emotionally unavailable become desired feelings, as they are now viewed as ‘safe.’

Today's guest blog is from John, a retired commercial airline pilot who has adopted four boys from domestic foster care as a single parent. John and his family live in southern California.  

No, I don’t mean RAD as in Radical (Yes, I know that is dated.) I am referring to Reactive Attachment Disorder. My youngest son, Chad, age 18, has RAD. We have attached, that is a true miracle, but the disorder is not something easily disposed of. I suspect some degree of it lasts for a lifetime. He is very attached to me, fairly attached to his 20-year-old brother, and to one friend. That is the limit of real attachment. Like all RAD kids, he came home with very pronounced hyper-vigilance; he always had to be on guard for his safety. Because he was the only person he could trust. Although this has noticeably abated, it can be triggered. This is about an event that was very difficult for him to handle.  

We were on vacation in Germany. We have been there a number of times before, this time we were in Berlin, an interesting city with neat people, and Starbucks on almost every corner. Everything was going very well until Friday night when Chad developed a severe pain in his stomach. It got worse as time passed. By 9 PM, I asked the hotel to call their Doctor. He was alarmed, the pain was intense, and he wondered if there could be a perforation. We got to ride to the hospital in the ambulance. Surprise, only one Nurse spoke any English, very unlike the Berlin we had seen. After blood tests, and X-rays, the Doc had to try and tell me what was happening. Chad could tell we were having language problems (It turns out the doc was a former East German and spoke German and Russian.) so he was understandably frightened. We got it sorted out, it was something he ate, no surgery needed. The painkillers were working and we took a cab back to the hotel. He was upset, as in very very upset.

Today's guest blog is from John, a former commercial airline pilot who has adopted four boys from domestic foster care as a single parent. John and his family live in southern California. 

This is not a promo to get everyone to go out and adopt a foster child. It is the journey I have been through with my four sons who came from foster care, we are adopted. Each one came home individually, and typically was about age 12 at the start of the adoption. There is a belief in child psychology that if you cannot make an impact with a child before age three, don't bother, everything is set in stone. Hogwash. Older kids can change, just like adults can change.