Loving Bella

If you didn’t catch Part One of this series, you can read it here.

If you did read Part One, then you already know that raising a child with RAD is nothing like traditional parenting. RAD kids live in constant survival mode. They’re always trying to control their environment—because control is what makes them feel safe. Love feels threatening to a child with RAD. And the closer you try to get, the harder they push back.

In Part One, I talked about some of the big, painful phrases RAD parents often hear like “Have you tried…,” “She just needs love,” or “She doesn’t act like that with me.” Those kinds of comments—even when well-meant—can leave us feeling blamed and completely alone.

Today, I want to talk about some of the well-meaning things people say that often come off as hurtful. I truly believe most of these comments come from a place of love and good intentions. But when you’re a parent raising a child with RAD, you’re often running on empty. Most days, you feel broken, exhausted, and hopeless.

And those kinds of comments? They don’t comfort—they minimize. They isolate. They remind us how misunderstood this journey really is.

1. “All kids do that.”

I’ve heard this one a thousand times.

I’ll go to a well-meaning mom and share something hard that’s happening in our home. And she responds with, “Oh, all kids do that. You’re fine.”

Just like that—I feel shut down.

That comment might sound casual, even comforting. But what it really says is: You’re overreacting. This isn’t a big deal.

It completely dismisses the seriousness of what’s happening inside my home.

Yes, all kids lie. All kids have meltdowns. But RAD kids take it to a completely different level. It’s constant. It’s intense. It’s driven by trauma, not typical child development.

We cannot compare the behavior of a RAD child to that of a neurotypical child.

What to say instead:

• “That sounds incredibly tough.”
• “I had no idea RAD could look like that—thank you for helping me understand.”

2. “She’ll grow out of it.”

We can wish upon a star—but RAD is not something a child just “grows out of.”

This is an actual brain disorder. It’s caused by early childhood trauma. It affects every relationship, every sense of safety, and every bit of trust the child will ever try to build. It doesn’t disappear with time.

When someone says, “Oh, she’ll grow out of it,” it ignores what the child and parent are going through. It also puts pressure on the parent to just “wait it out,” like this is some kind of phase.

It’s not. And pretending it is only makes this journey feel even lonelier.

What to say instead:

• “You’re doing such a great job supporting her through something so deep and complex.”
• “I’m here for you—as long as it takes.”

3. “She’s so lucky to have you.”

Maybe it’s true. But to RAD parents, this one hurts a little.

I know it’s meant as a compliment. I really do. But we see it through a different lens.

Most days, we don’t feel lucky. We feel broken. Exhausted. Drowning.

Adoption is often portrayed as a sweet, wrapped-up present with a neat little bow. But for many RAD families, that’s far from reality.

In our case, we were lied to multiple times. We weren’t told the whole truth about what we were getting into. And honestly? We just feel very unlucky.

What to say instead:

• “I can’t imagine how hard this must be—and I’m so thankful she has someone who keeps showing up.”
• “You’re doing incredibly hard work, and I see you.”

4. “You’re such a saint to have taken her in.”

We’re not saints. Not superhumans. Not the best people in the world.

We were two people who wanted a child to love and a family to build. Now? We’re two people trying to survive, to love, and to heal—alongside a child who’s also trying to heal.

When people say this, it feels like we’re being put on a pedestal we never asked for. It paints over and ignores the exhaustion, the trauma, and the very real pain that lives in our home.

We didn’t “take her in.” We didn’t rescue her. We became a family.

And family isn’t always beautiful. We aren’t always kind to each other. Some days, it’s brutal. And most days? It’s just plain hard.

What to say instead:

• “You’re doing something incredibly hard—and that matters.”
• “I admire your strength, not because you’re perfect, but because you keep going.”

5. “Send her to my house for a weekend—I’ll straighten her out.”

This one is usually meant as a joke. I’ve heard it more times than I can count.

But it’s not funny.

It makes light of something serious, painful, and often traumatic for everyone involved.

This isn’t about a child who just needs someone to yell louder or “lay down the law.”

Children with RAD don’t respond to traditional discipline the way others do. They have an injury—deep, neurological trauma—that tells their brain that love isn’t safe and control equals survival.

You can’t just “straighten that out” with a weekend of firm rules and tough love.

And if you try? You don’t want to be there when they explode. Trust me.

What to say instead:

• “I can’t imagine how hard this is day in and day out.”
• “You’re doing an incredible job staying in the fight.”

Bonus: “We’ll just keep praying.”

Please do—and I mean that with all my heart.

I believe in the power of prayer. We need it. Desperately.

But when that’s all someone says, it can feel like a dismissal. Like you’re saying, “I’m wiping my hands of this. I’ve handed it over to God, and now I’m walking away.”

And I say that with all possible respect.

Prayer is powerful. And we need all the prayer we can get. But we also need people who will pray—and stay. People who will listen, learn, show up, and walk with us through the darkest, most confusing parts of this journey. People who will believe us when we say things that are hard to believe. People who will stay when we say the ugly and truthful things.

What to say instead:

• “I’m praying—and I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
• “I’m lifting you up, and I want to understand this better too.”

Let’s Keep Learning Together

If you’ve said one—or even all—of these things before, it’s okay. Truly. Most of us have.

I know I’ve said many of these to other families and friends long before I understood what RAD really was.

This series on what not to say isn’t about shaming anyone. It’s about building awareness. It’s about helping people understand RAD so they can show up for families like mine—not just with words, but with presence, compassion, and support that actually helps.

If this post opened your eyes, please share it, save it, and use it—so that together, we can help other families raising RAD kids.

They don’t need quick fixes or easy answers.

They need people who understand.