Attention Seeking

“She’s like a totally different person when she’s not in the group.” She remarked. “You know, she’s actually smart, and kinda funny. Not at all like when she’s driving me nuts on the workshop floor.”

For six months in 2019, Starfire’s team facilitated learning session with another Ohio organization.  Our aim was to help provide a vision and tactical steps to work their way out of a day program and sheltered workshop more frequently, to provide more individualized supports, and to launch a mini project in partnership with a person with a disability in the community. Our sessions were part brainstorm and part affirmation that this was new and difficult work to start to think of our roles outside of structured 9-3 program models.  The conversation shifted to be about one particular “client” served by the organization and the frustration a staff person had had with her that day in the program.

“She just wants attention.” Another staff worker chimed in.  “That’s all it’s about with her.  Attention.”

I nodded and told them the story of Melanie and her “attention seeking.”

In the days of the day program, Starfire U, when our building on any given weekday held over 120 people with developmental disabilities and dozens of staff leading outings and activities, Melanie attended our program.  Sweet natured and whip-smart, she’d flash a smile asking about your day, your kids, your weekend plans, your thoughts on recent movies, recipes, and just as quickly furrow her brow and be confused as to why someone would be mad at her for: kicking them on a Metro bus, slapping them on the cheek, for moving their stuff without their permission, for yelling at them, for pushing them, for telling them to shut up, for calling them names under her breath, for cursing at them.

I am not proud of it – but in a frustrating afternoon, after many requests from multiple staff for Melanie slow down, make better choices, leave the room, get a drink and take a breath, and on the cusp of having to write up another incident report about her “behavior” I put on my coordinator hat and printed out every single incident report ever written about Melanie that past year – January, January, February, , May, May, May, August, September, October, October, October...  A dozen or so, stacked up in succession.

Incidents documenting her behavior with other people with disabilities, towards staff, on the bus, in the program, and in more than one instance, her behavior bullying others from the day program online…  And I began to read them to her aloud:

“When Lena arrived Thursday morning around 8:15am she asked to speak with a staff member, John in private, voicing that she had been hit by another member (Melanie) at the bus stop the previous afternoon after leaving Starfire. She told staff that another member, Melanie had hit her unprovoked with a book while waiting for their next bus. Staff told Lena that they were concerned about the incident and would talk to Melanie immediately. When Melanie arrived at 8:00AM, staff member, John, pulled her aside and asked her to explain the incident that happened with Lena. She expressed that at the bus stop Tuesday afternoon Melanie had yelled at her multiple times before hitting her with an open hand in the collar bone area.”

Melanie cried, tears streaming down her face, and, I paused briefly, only to ask her ask her if I should continue.  Should I continue to read the way people see you? The way you treat them?  She said no that she’d try harder and better and we spent the next 25 minutes or so alone in a conference room chatting.  Me reassuring her that she was a good person and our actions don’t define who we are, but that we had to try better. Her smile was quick to reappear, the tears completely gone, her chipper self, returned.

I don’t remember what happened next.  I imagine a call was made home, a meeting might have happened with Melanie’s team and another incident would have occurred again repeating the same cycle.

The memories of the day program have since faded and the frustration of what those days felt like – the 9-3PM grind transportation drop off, attendance taking, doing art projects, baking projects, yoga, guest speakers about random topics – field trips to museums and zoos and Red’s Hall of Fame have also begun to fade.  I’m able to really process what these types of experiences meant and mean now that I hear them coming from the mouths of colleagues in other organizations.
 
Was Melanie attention seeking? Was she merely seeking connection? Isn’t all behavior attention seeking in some way or another?

Each incident report written about her, meant 1:1 time in an office with staff attention uninterrupted.  Sometimes it meant sitting next to an office person and helping with tasks: shredding paper, assembling outgoing mail.

The empty threats of phone calls home, new reports documenting “behavior” were another way that Melanie got some time outside of the group. Outside of the seminar of 15 people all learning about checking accounts, or healthy smoothies, or whatever else was put on the calendar to fill time, to build “life skills.”

“She just wants attention.”

“That’s all it’s about with her.”

“She’s like a totally different person when she’s not in the group.”

“She’s actually smart, and kinda funny. Not at all like when she’s driving us nuts on the workshop floor.”

Attention seeking behavior wants a response from others.  Validation, to be noticed.  Which leaves me asking, isn’t everything attention seeking?  Don’t we all want a response when we talk or ask a question?  Aren’t we all seeking validation that we’re doing okay, on the right path.  Don’t we want people to notice when we’re having rough days, when we’re excelling, when we just need some reassurance. 

Reading each incident report was shameful. It played into a power dynamic that I am not proud of.  That as coordinator of the day program, I had the authority over Melanie to make sure she understood she was “bad” and that if she couldn’t be “good” then we’d just have to do something about that.

A few years removed, I realize now that the attention she was seeking was in the small moments of reassuring her, she was a good person, that I saw her as such, and that, it’ll be okay.