What "Too Friendly" Doesn't Begin to Describe: Parenting a Child With Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder (DSED)
- Anonymous
- 3 days ago
- 6 min read
When we adopted our youngest child at age five, we expected a bumpy transition — grief, fear, maybe some detachment. That's what the books and adoption courses had prepared us for.
Instead, we were met with smiles. Enthusiasm. Constant chatter. A child who seemed to want to connect with everyone, everywhere.
But very quickly, that charm began to reveal something far more complicated.
He was intensely social — but in ways that were confusing, inappropriate, and at times unsafe. He didn't seem to distinguish between us and strangers. At first, people called him "friendly." Some said, "Wow, he's so confident."
But as the weeks went on, the behaviors kept escalating.
Always On
Our son needed social attention the way other children need food or sleep. He couldn't simply exist in a room without performing. From our very first days together — in the hotel in India where we stayed while finalizing his adoption — he was in constant performance mode: singing loudly, clapping, making exaggerated noises and movements, peppering us with nonsense questions.
If I gave my attention to my other child — now his older brother — for even a moment, he'd engineer an interruption: suddenly needing the toilet, manufacturing a meltdown, or, most shockingly, vomiting on demand.
Our son needed social attention the way other children need food or sleep.
As for strangers — he couldn't get enough of them, and had absolutely no fear. He would take the hands of waiters, follow people down the street, wander off in crowded places, or try to climb into parked cars. One afternoon, he jumped into a moving tuk-tuk.
He interrogated us about every person we encountered — "Who's that? Where do they live?" — and his favorite: "Are they rich?" His social battery never ran low. Ours ran into the ground.
Social, But Not Safe: Understanding Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder
My son was eventually diagnosed with disinhibited social engagement disorder (DSED) — one of several attachment-related diagnoses that can emerge from early institutional care. No matter the diagnosis, what I can tell you is that his presentation didn't look like what most people picture when they hear the word "trauma." He wasn't withdrawn or cold. He was magnetic, relentless, and completely indiscriminate about with whom he engaged.
But it wasn't real connection. It was compulsion for attention. The need to engage, interrupt, perform, provoke. And often, to confuse or shock.
My son was eventually diagnosed with disinhibited social engagement disorder (DSED) — one of several attachment-related diagnoses that can emerge from early institutional care.
In parks, he'd spend time watching other children before attempting to join in — and when he did, it was always through disruption: blocking the slide, throwing rubbish, sabotaging a game. At school, he'd hurl a ball over a fence mid-activity and laugh as the other children reacted with frustration.
He found it hard — impossible, even — to distinguish between roles: stranger, neighbor, friend, family, parent. Every adult was a potential audience or caretaker. Every peer, a temporary rival or tool.
Boundary Breaker
One of the hardest things for us was how often he crossed boundaries with people — and how few understood why it was happening.
He would demand physical closeness from adults we barely knew. With visiting family, he'd test boundaries in deeply unsettling ways — grabbing their private areas, barging into the bathroom, clinging in ways that made people visibly uncomfortable. Whenever another woman entered the scene — a teacher, a friend's mother — I would disappear. He'd redirect every ounce of charm toward her, and I would cease to exist.
No matter the diagnosis, what I can tell you is that his presentation didn't look like what most people picture when they hear the word "trauma."
Professionals weren't immune, either. Doctors and therapists were regularly overwhelmed — he'd roll on the floor, ask wildly personal questions, handle their belongings, or actively interfere with their work. For a long time, many of them blamed sensory processing disorder.
Some adults said he just needed to "channel his energy." Others were visibly uncomfortable around him or having their children around him. A few flat-out disliked him.
When DSED Reaches a Crisis Point
Eventually, things reached a breaking point. He had always engaged in some low-level self-harm, but now it was daily and deliberate — peeling his skin raw, creating scabs across his arms and legs, punching himself until his nose bled, then smearing the blood around the house with an innocent "oops." It was heartbreaking in ways I still struggle to describe.
We had known for a long time that nothing about this was typical. But this was the moment we admitted we could not continue as we were. We had to change everything.
That's when I began working with a parenting framework specifically designed for children with attachment disorders — focused on structure, natural consequences, and zero engagement with attention-seeking behaviors. If he made a mess, he cleaned it. If he provoked a reaction, he didn't get one. It wasn't easy — but it did help at first. Unfortunately, the positive effects did not last.
Medication made the most difference. We were fortunate to find a psychiatrist willing to try low-dose medication to settle his nervous system enough to reduce the self-harming. Regular neurofeedback sessions offered glimmers of progress with his focus.
We've come close — very close — to sending him to a residential school. We still wonder, sometimes, if that's where this road will end. But for now, we're working on building something that looks like trust. Like safety. Like family.
Why Every Parent Should Know About Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder
Most people have never heard of disinhibited social engagement disorder (DSED). And those who have often imagine children who are "too friendly" or "a bit impulsive." That doesn't come close.
This is not about being sociable. It's about a complete breakdown in how a child understands relationships, boundaries, and identity. It's overwhelming, isolating, and — unless you've lived it — impossible to explain.
If you're raising a child like this: I see you. You are not crazy. You are not alone.
RAD Advocates works with families navigating a confusing landscape of attachment-related diagnoses — RAD, DSED, and others — that can feel more like alphabet soup than genuine clarity. Whatever diagnosis your child carries, or whether they carry one at all, our experience may feel similar to yours. What matters is not the diagnosis. What matters is that you found your way here.
And if you've met a child like mine — the "overly friendly" one, the one who talks too loud or asks too many questions or climbs into your lap — please don't just smile and say, "How sweet."
Understand that what looks like charm may be survival. What looks like confidence may be trauma.
This is not about being sociable. It's about a complete breakdown in how a child understands relationships, boundaries, and identity. It's overwhelming, isolating, and — unless you've lived it — impossible to explain.
Behind the performance, the provocation, the relentless charm, is a child whose earliest experiences damaged the very brain structures that allow for trust, connection, and love — leaving them unable to seek comfort in the ways other children do, and often unable to receive it even when it's freely given.
No amount of patience or love alone can rewire what trauma has shaped. But understanding what you are truly dealing with is where it has to start.
If you are loving a child who may not be able to feel it, trying to reach someone who may not yet be reachable — you are navigating something most people will never understand. You are not failing. You are not alone. And you don't have to figure it out by yourself.
RAD Advocates is here to support, guide, and advocate for you every step of the way.
Feeling lost on the RAD parenting journey?
You’re not alone — and you don’t have to figure it out on your own. Connect with RAD Advocates to find real answers from those who’ve walked this path, no matter where you are along the journey.