The Continuing Saga of Money Anxiety

In December 2019, I posted about my "hemorrhaging money" concerns of the day. It's been better since then, but the past few months have been a lot.

First, we had our porches and trim painted early in the year. It wasn't cheap, but it was necessary. 

Then there was the thing with the freeze where everyone had to make preparations and repairs. Fortunately, as far as we know, our only issues were a broken hose bib line (and do-it-myself drywall repairs) and the 500L's windshield. However, we're noticing now that our second-biggest tree in the front yard probably mostly died, as only a few leaves have popped out near the main trunk. The tree was already a hot mess, dropping giant branches every time the wind blew, ever since we lived here. Apparently, that's what chinaberry trees do. But there's a smaller one in the back yard that looks pretty dead-ish, as well. I could cut that one down myself over time; the one in the front yard is going to be expensive to remove. And we might have to pay $100 just to get a building permit to remove it! A DEAD TREE!

--Sidebar: The chinaberry also drops TONS of messy berries all over the yard and roof all seasons of the year. It rained several inches last weekend, and James and I had noticed the time before when it rained that there was water pouring out of the end of one of the gutters. This weekend, I noticed that NONE was coming out of the downspout. We decided to clear it out mid-rain because it was was supposed to continue to storm all weekend. When we work on the gutters, it's my job to clear them out, and James's to hold the ladder so I don't pull a Pappy (as me about this inside joke, if you're not familiar). I reached down and found a big muddy ball of chinaberries damming up the downspout. I pulled them out, and ALL of the water that had filled the entire gutter SHOT OUT of the downspout... slamming right into my ladder anchor, AKA James. We were in the rain anyway, but he got it a lot worse than I did. Not having that problem would be a balm to losing a mature tree from the front yard.--

James has a new hobby and has been buying tools and material for that. This is a good thing! He never had time to pursue an activity with regularity when he had to commute. Like, he could brew a beer or make some cheese every year or two, but he's getting to hone his woodworking skills most days, and that's pretty cool for him.

I bought a bunch of supplies for our future dog. Rudy had to get mouth surgery. Now Aish has some weird scabby things and is going to the vet tomorrow.

Then my camera broke. I decided not to spend too much to replace it because, geez with the spending money. I bought a much less expensive replacement. And the pictures sucked. So I bought a more expensive replacement, only soothing myself that for $300, I get a 5-year no-questions-asked replacement warranty (if I'd had one with my old camera, I could have replaced it at no cost; I had it just over 4 years when I dropped it and it landed at an awkward angle, cracking the housing... but already the LCD screen had stopped working, and there was some lining coming loose in the lens).

We had to add a rider to our homeowners insurance when I realized that our solar panels were not covered by our general policy. Our property taxes are set to go up quite a bit this year because the valuations are so much higher now that the real estate market is bonkers. It's entirely possible that our insurance is going to go up because the cost for construction materials has tripled over the past year. That means our house is likely under-insured and the provider will notice that soon, especially if the mortgage-holder points it out to them.

So.

I decided to try to be more conservative in my spending, and cut back. I informed James of the situation. I've even talked to Mal about it, because he always wants more stuff.

We were all on the same page.

Then D wanted to get a twin bed, downsizing from a queen to have more floor space. I was fortunate to find a frame and box spring on Buy Nothing, but still bought the top mattress and bedding. Last night, D requested a new desk and office chair. D has been using the computer mostly in bed for the past couple of years, and I think this will really help alleviate some neck pain. So, of course, I went out today and got those things.

The frustrating part is that I feel like James makes "enough" money that I shouldn't feel this much uncertainty. But it definitely seems like it's always something, and I wonder what we'd do if James didn't have the job he has now.

I also wonder if my preoccupation has to do with a scarcity mentality left over from genuinely not having enough to make ends meet. Regardless, I hate the feeling that money flies away, out of our control.

I've thought about money a LOT this past year, especially as the pandemic revealed and worsened the financial gaps in our society. We were definitely one of the lucky families who kept up employment and were able to stay in our house. There's no reason for this. There's no moral explanation for why a computer programmer's job is safe during a global outbreak, and a bunch of servers' jobs aren't.

When we had the porch painted, I was talking to some people from church about it, and how it was a maintenance item that ignoring would have lead to the need for more significant interventions down the road, but how guilty I felt spending what we did when some people don't have anywhere to live. Our ministry intern basically said, "The problem is a society where individuals fall through the cracks and can't get help. It's not one person's keeping up their property that means someone else gets evicted, but there's definitely something wrong when you as an individual feel like any money you spend is threatening someone else's safety."

And he's right, but he's also wrong. Money is a zero-sum game. The money I have is necessarily not had by someone else. We try to be generous, and I often struggle with feelings both that we're not doing enough to help other people, and that we really can't do any more without jeopardizing our own ability to live and react to unplanned expenses. 

This week, I've heard several things that make me realize, "Oh, yeah, we are NOT the rich people."

There was a story on Code Switch about a demand sent out by some black Vermonters last year telling their white neighbors to go ahead and start on some reparations by sending money directly to individuals' CashApp accounts (which I completely support, by the way). I loved how the notice was worded. It boiled down to, "You might think you can give $50 and not feel it, but you need to feel it. You should give enough that it impacts your own financial status." I mean, that's what wealth distribution is all about. And some people really took this seriously. One couple immediately gave away $1000 each to four different people. Then they discussed, "What does it look like if we give $20,000? Or $200,000?"

What?! One of them was in a post-graduate program! And they have $200,000 cash AT ALL, much less that they might be able to give away? Okay, no, we're NOT rich.

We couldn't afford a second home, not for vacations and not even for rental investment. Heck, we couldn't even afford another property. In fact, if we had to buy our own home today, we could not!

Oh, then I had a gentleman (the generous guy who gave me the twin box spring and frame) tell me off-handedly, "I've spent quite a bit of time in Asia, and..."

Well, unless James got transferred, we couldn't afford to spend "quite a bit of time" in Asia (though I'd certainly love to!).

A couple who is in a community group to which I belong recently sent out a picture of a trip he and his wife had taken to Botswana where you can book this experience where they set up a bed for you in the middle of the desert so you can star-gaze all night. Like they put a brass bed out there, make it up, put rugs on both sides, and cart you out there. It sounds amazing. I can't imagine how much the whole trip must cost. We're just not at a place to be able to do that, either.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Basically, I guess, living is expensive, and we're lucky that we can scrape by, and it's not fair that some people can't while others have $150 billion. I heard someone on the radio say that they didn't believe in an all-powerful god because if there were one, it was the worst planner ever: "You get a Tesla, you get a tumor." I feel that, and I don't know what to do about it, and I guess sometimes you just have to sit with the discomfort of it.

Cavities

Hey, so remember last year when Mal had a bunch of cavities and I freaked out and we didn't really do anything about them but up our cleaning game?

Yeah, they've progressed.

I went to a different dentist and while they were able to get x-rays (and only 1 was blurry!), they recommended the same thing: general anesthesia.

I don't like it any more now than I did in September, but: 1) I see how quickly that one tooth is deteriorating, and now one of the surface caries is an actual cavity (there's a difference; feel free to Google); 2) I feel zero anxiety about this office like I did the other one.

I'll be much happier at about 6:30 Monday morning when Mal's securely out and getting fixed up, but my normal parent nervousness about helping him transition to sleep with a scary, weird-smelling mask on his face is not the overwhelming panic and intuition to "STOP!" like it was at the other place.

Also: James made a decision in November to leave a job he'd only had 3 weeks for the job he has now, and I'm SO grateful. He was a contractor at the first job, and the insurance was prohibitively expensive through the tech recruiter.

We are so fortunate to have really good insurance with a low deductible. We are able to process the anesthesiologist through our health insurance, and even with a low $250 deductible after which we pay 10%, we've paid them $900!

The rest *should* be covered by dental, but I think there's a $1500 limit on that, and we might just exhaust our benefits for the year on this one thing. I guess the good news is we've hit Mal's deductible and half of our family deductible, and January's not even over yer.

So wish us luck on Monday! And NO MORE CAVITIES.

When Stuff Breaks Down

Guys. I promise the next post will be full of light and love and the kind of whipped creamy goodness you've come to expect from this here blog. (All 9 of you who stuck with me of the 230 people who used to read my blog when I was on social media. Hi, Mom! Howdy, Christy! Hey, Jana! Hola, other half-dozen people! I'm sure I love you!)

So.

I've had a bit of a week, if I may. Also, I know what I'm about to tell you is SO MINOR compared to actual, real, damaging, devastating situations other people face. This will let you know how good I guess my life is, that these events can bring me down. But, man, they did.

First, cool thing: I've been planning a family vacation for over a year. We're closing in on our travel dates, which I won't tell you and we have a house-sitter, so don't think you can come steal the big screen TV we don't have, or the expensive electronics that we also don't have because we're taking our inexpensive electronics with us on our trip. But please, feel free to abscond with a cat or two. Just get your own Modkat litter box. Trust me. You do NOT want to transport a used one in your vehicle.

So last week, I noticed Mal had the cavity, about which you have read in two posts, and I'll spare you the repeated deets (which was the cool kid way to shorten "details" about 6 years ago).

Just before THAT, the "check engine" light had come on in my SUV. I'd gone by AutoZone and they'd told me that the codes indicated an O2 sensor was the problem. I came home and filled out an appointment request for the garage. They called me and confirmed the appointment for August 24, but I'd heard August 21, because that was my preference and he didn't say which weekday. So I showed up at 10 AM (early commitment for us because I never know when Mal will be up and moving) only to find that I was 3 days early.

Meanwhile, James's "change oil" notification showed up on his car. So, really neither car was fit to drive, but... well, we had to.

THEN, as you'll remember, I went in to the dentist's on the 24th and she was out, so Mal got really anxious for nothing, and I got him up early (9 this time!) for nothing, then we dropped the SUV off at the garage and took a Lyft home.

Mal's review: "I'm having a beautiful ride!"

By about 4:30, we hadn't heard anything so I called the garage. The guy gave me some rigmarole about how some of the codes were weird, but I got the distinct feeling that they hadn't done more in the previous 8 hours than exactly what I had done at AutoZone. Said they would probably not have an answer until Monday.

Friday night, Mal wanted to go to Target, but... James's car. I called the only place still opened and asked if they could change the oil that night, but because James's car is a Fiat 500, some places don't have his filter in stock. They said they'd order it and I could come in the next day. She set an appointment for 10 AM, and I promised Mal we'd go to Target after that.

Turns out, I lied to him, but not on purpose.

When we got there the next morning, the lady asked me if I was dropping the car off. I told her that would be impossible. She said she wasn't sure how they would have gotten my filter by then since I wasn't "even in the system." So I left. She had offered to order the part and call me, but by then, I was pretty peeved.

I drove to Walmart, then remembered that they can't change the oil in a Fiat 500. So I called a Firestone down the way, and they said I'd have to drop it off because Friday, Saturday, and Sundays were just the busiest days. He offered to make an appointment for during the week, and I cried.

Here's a picture showing how ridiculous I look in reading glasses, just to break the monotony.
#thebettertoseeyouwith

I got home and made an online appointment with a different Firestone for around dinner time. It is in the same shopping area as a McDonald's and Taco Bell, so we made a family night of it. I did call before the appointment to ask if they were going to be able to do it, and they affirmed that they could. They did ask James if we were leaving it overnight, though. Sigh.

One down.

Yesterday morning, I again pulled Mal out of bed and put him straight into the car seat. James works from home on Mondays and Fridays, so I was able to use his vehicle. As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, there was an error message that a front tire was down to 24.6 PSI. Big sigh. Filed away for later.

We got to the office, and the hygienist called us back. She was a kind older lady, but she kept calling Mal "she," so I finally mentioned he was a boy. She said, "Oh, I couldn't tell because of the long hair." Not in a friendly way.

She was plenty patient while Mal balked at sitting in the chair, and eventually resigned herself to just brushing Mal's teeth with a Lightning McQueen brush because he said, "I don't want a motor!" Even then, I had to hold him in the chair, kneeling beside him, and talk gently to him the whole time.

When the dentist came in, she asked the hygienist a few things, and when she got to the x-rays, the lady said, "We didn't get them because of his behavior."

Well, that's factual. His behavior, specifically, was communicating "I am terrified." And at some point, she just looked at me and said, "There's no way we can get x-rays today."

But it sounded like he refused or was being a brat or something. Or maybe I'm overly-sensitive, but I've never had a kid with cavities before, and I was feeling very anxious, as you know.

She had managed to get the vitamins on Mal's teeth, too, but he gagged several times. The dentist got him back in the chair and did the exam, pointing out one cavity I hadn't noticed (which I still can't see, but I'm not the expert, so I'll take her word for it), for a total of four cavities over five teeth.

The first recommendation she had was general anesthesia. For a 3-year-old. With tooth decay, or dental caries, that have not penetrated the enamel. So, no. I made a mental note that we were going to find a different dentist.

Her second recommendation was something I'd read about: silver diamine fluoride. It turns the decay black, but gives it a "complicated disease" that kills it and arrests the decay. It doesn't repair the teeth, but prevents damage, most effectively when reapplied within six months.

So we made an appointment to do that, and I knew as soon as it was over, we'd be the hell out of that office.

On the way out to the car, I saw that the garage had called, they had figured out the problem (IT WAS AN OXYGEN SENSOR... WHAT?!), and they gave me an estimate, which I approved.

The Firestone where we had the tires balanced at the same time we had the oil changed is also in the same shopping center as the dentist's office, McD's, Taco Bell, et. al. So we drove over, the guy checked the tires, and they were ALL low. So someone just didn't inflate them properly. They fixed it immediately.

Last night at 5, we got our SUV back.

I almost blogged last night about how relieved I was that we were almost finished with all outstanding issues, because I can barely go to bed with the dishwasher running as I know it means I'll have to empty dishes one of the first things in the morning. I cannot stand having unresolved things.

But I didn't blog. My body gave out at 9:30, and I went to sleep before Mal. Mostly. He woke me up to go to sleep, but I'd been asleep (and, maybe, snoring) for a while.

Then, at 4:00 AM, I woke up in a cold sweat. I was so panicky. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the thought of going into that office was so dark and foreboding. I tried to go to sleep for an hour and a half, but ended up waking James up, crying, because I was so stressed and sad. I told him I'd decided to have them do the back 2 teeth only, and we'd monitor the front ones. First, I thought this was all Mal would be able to tolerate. Second, it had occurred to me that I have a silver allergy. That's why we have silicone wedding bands now. Mal might not be allergic, but what if he is?

By 7, I was shaking. I'd read that patients reported a "metallic taste" and had been reading about how silver diamine fluoride stains EVERYTHING it comes into contact with. Allegedly, only the decay on teeth stays stained; anything else will clear up in 2-14 days. But I had this mental picture of Mal tasting the metal, gagging, and somehow upsetting the mouth guard (which I don't think he'd love, anyway) and not taking the full minute for it to dry because of his freaking out, and how worried he was that the "paint" was going to be "sour" like the mint toothpaste, and how scared he was at the exam, and... I was literally physically ill.

I cancelled the appointment.

I'm going to find a more holistic/alternative/gentle dentist. I got a couple of referrals from another unschooling mom. But in the meantime, I'm implementing a plan.

First, I have to admit, I haven't been militant with Mal's brushing up until now. I had false confidence because D's teeth were never a problem, so skipping a day of brushing if he fell asleep before we got to it... meh. No more of that.

Second, we'd never given him fluoride toothpaste because he's never spit. He always eats the toothpaste. We got him some this weekend, and it turns out he is fine with spitting it out because he doesn't like the way it tastes like he does the training toothpaste.

Third, we're brushing with the fluoride twice a day, and then periodically with just the brush after he has sticky stuff like fruit snacks.

Fourth, I commandeered some of D's Wisps to keep in my purse, as well as Xylitol bubble gum for after snacking out and about.

I know that dental decay takes 4-8 years to pierce the enamel. Mal hasn't had most of his teeth for 4 years. And the worst decay is on the molar that came in a year and a half ago. So I feel reasonably confident that we can wait a couple of months before getting a second opinion, given my more aggressive cleaning regimen.

I don't usually freak out about stuff like I did this, so I'm going to chalk it up to intuition. I was really hoping to have everything stamped "HANDLED" by today, but it looks like I'm going to have to be patient. I'm not super great at that.

A Guaranteed Spoiler-Free Review of My "The Last Jedi" Experience

The day that tickets went on sale for The Last Jedi, we bought them. We chose today instead of yesterday (opening day) because they were less than half the price. I chose 5 PM instead of noon in case James was working by now. We had a discussion beforehand about whether the widespread availability of pre-sale tickets in theaters with reserved seats will eliminate the cultural phenomenon of camping out to get good seats for the midnight premiers of big films (although now I think they start them at like 7 instead of midnight, but still say today is the opening day?). Anyhoo...

This was our second whole-family movie outing in under a month. It would be our third, but Mal bowed out of the last one, and actually said about an hour before time to leave today that he wanted to stay home. Normally, I'd let him (as I did last time) but 1) he cried TO go once the time actually came.. and I'd already refunded the tickets and 2) I really wanted to see The Last Jedi!

Fortunately, he was calmed down and ready to go when we went. Actually, he was bummed that his dad had a Stormtrooper shirt and he didn't, so I pulled out a shirt I bought him for next summer, and it was gigantic, but it has 4 Stormtroopers on it, so he was pretty happy.

Since we knew the movie was going to be 2.5 hours, we got there right as the previews started, and James and D went on in to bookend our seats while Mal and I stocked up on snacks. We missed about 10 minutes of previews, but still saw a lot.

Then it started. When the iconic Star Wars music started, Mal began humming along. Cue D's hand covering the facing ear and an overt squirming in the comfortable theater lounger. I reminded Mal that we have to be quiet at the theater, though he's welcome to sing along with the theme at home.

The movie hits the ground running, and so did the kid who was sitting on the opposite side of D. Restless and a few seats away from her parents, she would pull the foot rest up, put it down, climb over it to play in the floor, etc. Because I don't have sensory processing disorder, I didn't really notice it at first, even though the ground was vibrating a bit independently of the movie.

Mal seemed to be enjoying the rollicking action sequences, but was less enthusiastic about visiting Snoke's throne room. I'd offered to let him sit in my lap, and when Snoke showed up was when Mal took me up on it. After a few minutes, he began to squirm. "Do you need to go to the restroom?" Yep.

I carried Mal out (thank goodness for the new spacious recliner rows!) and he did, indeed use the restroom. After we washed our hands, I told him, "On the walk back to the theater, I want you to get all of your wiggles out!" So he went down the hall flapping his arms and kicking his feet out and making more noise than he could do in the theater without being disturbingly loud.

When we went back in, he sat in his own seat for a bit until something else intense happened, when he wanted back in my lap.

About this time, the little girl on the other side of D got the hiccups. Hiccups are very close to the top of the list in terms of aggravating D's misophonia. "I'm going to go sit over there." Thus D spent the rest of the movie in a cubby in the aisle, just beside the fire exit.

Actually, with D gone, I could let Mal move around a little more without worrying he'd accidentally make contact. It was then that I really realized how much the girl on our row was climbing around. I was surprised D hadn't said something to her, because a full empty seat away, it was starting to get on my nerves. Eventually, her dad took her to get some popcorn.

"I need to go potty again." This time, I picked Mal up and carried him like a ventriloquist's dummy up (waving at D on the way past) and out of the theater. We sprinted to a different bathroom, wanting to hurry back because exciting things were afoot, movie-wise.

Mal giddily did his crazy walk back to the theater, clearly tiring out for the day, as he kept falling down. We again passed the people on our row and sat down. The girl in the row came back with the pricey Execution Trooper collectible popcorn head thing and was babbling to herself. I tried to make my "shh" sound sweet and maternal. Lord knows I had to keep reminding Mal. What got me about her was that it was clear her parents put her at the end of their line of people and just forgot about her. Actually, her dad DID ask her to stop putting the chair up and down about the time Mal said, "I have to go to the bathroom."

Fewer than 10 minutes had elapsed since we'd left the previous time, so I told James we were not going to come back to the seats. We went to the bathroom, Mal complaining that I wasn't carrying him. I suspected that he'd said he wanted to go so I'd do the carry/running thing, and he did not, in fact, need to go. But he was eager to run in the hallway. I told him we weren't going to do that and could either go stand in the back of the theater so I could see the movie, or just stand outside and wait for our family. He said, "Daddy came to the movies without me!" Um, no. You left him, silly.

Oh, he also said, "But I *am* going to run up and down the hall!" Wrong-o.

We went back in and sat on an out-of-the-way stair, but Mal started coughing. From then on, every time we stepped out into the hall, he was fine. But then we'd go inside and he'd start coughing so hard, I knew we were being distracting. I was able to see pieces of the movie in fits and starts, but for the last 45 minutes really had no idea what was going on.

At one point, Mal was content to walk up and down the ramp (don't worry; it's set up so that no one in the theater could see him) while I stood at the end and watched a bit. But eventually, I could hear him passing gas and whisked him back out.

"Did you poop your pants?" "Yes." He didn't. He's had a bit of an upset stomach due, I believe, to the drainage and coughing and not eating much over the past few days. Nevertheless, we went into the restroom and he said, "This place smells funny" before gagging. I thought that was it and he was going to be sick. I asked, "Do you need to throw up?" He said, "No! I don't want to barf!!"

I waited with him a LONG time, and he didn't go, so I begged him to slip back in so I could catch the end, and we did. Like literally. I stepped inside, and the screen went black then "Music by John Williams."

Mal started bawling, "I want to see it again!"

I was able to stop his yelling by the promise of ice cream on the way out, and then sent him and James on while I got refills of popcorn and soda and D watched the closing credits. While D and I waited for James and Mal, I asked about something in the movie, but D refused to discuss it with me in public lest anyone overhear any spoilers.

We all got to the car, and I was trying to get Mal's sleep diaper on in case he fell asleep in the car on the way home. He did not. But he did cough pretty much nonstop in the 3 freezing minutes it took me to get the pants/shoes off, diaper on, shoes back on. D was sitting in the front seat, hunched over, breathe holes covered with a t-shirt. And this was the entire ride home.

So my review of "The Last Jedi" is, as I told James: I cannot see another movie with our entire family again. It's too stressful. I can probably handle D's stuff. And I can mostly handle Mal's stuff. But both of their stuff together is too much.

Also, I'd really like to see "The Last Jedi" in its entirety very soon. The parts I saw were impressive.

Finally, sometimes it's difficult not to be a little jealous that some families can "just" go and do stuff and be pretty confident that it will work out. We try and plan and attempt to accommodate everyone, but, gosh, it's hard.

We have a vacation planned for late next year. The reason we're planning it so early is to fit these differences in. But we've given D the choice of whether to go or not, because traveling is particularly anxiety-provoking (noises, lots of potentially sick people, uncertainty, etc.). So if you hear later that our family vacations don't always include the *whole* family, just remember this three-hour outing and know that it's better for us to do what works for EVERYONE, even if it's not what I'd consider ideal, which is that we'd all do it together.

And may the Force be with us all.

A Brief Word on "... they'll just have to..."

There was an article in the paper today about how some area schools are starting back early this year, and how the kids are noticing. Someone commented (I KNOW! Never read the comments. Nonetheless...), "Just wait until you have a real job. In the real world, you don't get a summer break at all, so soak it up."

As an aside, it's weird to me that even people who don't have alt-ed viewpoints consider school something other than "the real world." Interesting. 

But the level of resentment dripping off of this - how dare kids be disappointed their typical break is shorter?! - is my main focus.

Look around and you'll see something: A lot of adults are really pissed off at kids in general. Pardon my English, but it's true. I think these adults feel like they've grown into productive members of society with good work ethics and a healthy dose of stoicism, and that kids "these days" are just whiny toots.

I'm pretty sure these same people would have had these same reactions as kids were the circumstances the same. Also, one of the kids interviewed was talking about how it was a challenge to get the summer reading assignments completed in less time. So this wasn't about languishing by the pool while the 'rents work their butts off.

My question is: Why do grown-ups seem to hate kids so much? Why do grown-up people decide to have kids, and then just seem to lose all compassion and empathy for them?

I have a kid who has anxiety, and we are dealing with that. One thing I've heard concerning not just our situation, but others', too, is, "Well, someday, they're going to have to XYZ 'in the real world.' You need to make them start doing it now, because the longer they ABC, the harder it's going to be to adjust."

May I tell you how ridiculous this is, whether it's leveled at a child or an adult? 

People who have phobias or other impairments that prevent them from functioning typically in any given situation might or might not find exposure therapy useful. I can tell you now, if you have a fear of snakes, I'm pretty sure that if I lock you in a box with 50 non-venomous snakes, you would not thank me later for assisting in your recovery. Or maybe you would. I'm not irrationally afraid of snakes, but I don't think I'd like that, anyway.

It is furthermore the height of self-righteous pride for anyone to tell a parent, "Here's what's wrong with your kid, and all you have to do to fix it is..." This might shock those of you who observe from the outside and then have the audacity to propose a simple fix, but I can promise you that parents have thought of EVERYTHING. They've researched, they've sought opinions, they've gotten opinions that they never solicited (including yours), they've second-guessed themselves, and eventually they have settled into what is working for their family. Your input at any point in this process is worthless, unless you, too, have been through the EXACT same thing and offer a viewpoint with the caveat that you truly understand no two people or situations are the same.

Lastly, any time a person says anything about how someone "has" to behave "in the real world," I am truly blind-sighted by how narrow a view of what constitutes a functional life so many of us have. Not everyone needs to be able to maintain eye contact for an extended amount of time. Not everyone needs to be able to drive. Not everyone has to wear close-toed shoes (shout-out to my friend Dave for that one :D ). People can and do create lifestyles they can manage all of the time. Now, can you get a high-paying corporate job if you can't do these things? Except for driving, maybe not. But not everyone's life needs to look the same. Some skills are worth honing because they will be useful, but not otherwise (like cursive; and please don't flame me). Not everyone needs the same social skills as everyone else. Not everyone needs to conform to the same box or boxes or cylinders or whatever. Does that mean the off-beat person's life will be more complicated? Maybe. But it's going to be more complicated, regardless. Some people just have a more challenging time with certain functions than others. That's okay. It's different, but it's not bad.

I have a bonus point: If you see a situation which you think is not ideal, whether it's a person you don't think is meeting their potential or a family you think could operate better if only they'd listen to this thing you've reasoned out... and if you really want to help... rather than offering an opinion unbidden, how about saying something like, "Your family really means a lot to me. Is there some way I could help you?" then be willing to do whatever they ask, if they take you up on it. Seriously, your unbidden input can only strain your relationship. Trust me, everyone's doing the best they can.

Anxiety, My Child, and My Family: Things I'd Like You to Know

At least one of my kids has some extreme social and personal anxiety. She's had it about varying things over time, and as she hit puberty, it intensified. She works really hard at dealing with it on her own terms, but sometimes that's more effective than other times. This isn't a blog post about dealing with anxiety, because I don't really know how one would deal with it. I have been anxious in my life about different things, but it's not a persistent reality in my life. This also isn't a blog post about parents dealing with their kids' anxiety, because I'm making this up as I go, and I don't often do the "right" thing (if there is a "right" thing; maybe I don't always do the best thing). This is a blog post about you, since if you're reading this, you're probably a family member or close friend. This is about some things you might not know, and hopefully it will make things easier for all of us.

1. "Is she going to be okay?" (Something I've seriously been asked, in hushed tones and with looks of extreme concern.) Of course she will. She's okay now, or she'd be in the hospital. She might not be "typical," but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with her. She handles stress about different situations more intensely and differently than a lot of people do. That's it. It's perplexing at times, because it's all new, but she's good. She's happy in her life. She is happiest doing the things she loves, and that isn't usually the same things that make other people happy (getting out, seeing friends, going shopping, taking a hike). She's artistic and has an extremely unique point of view. She is exceptionally empathetic... toward some people... and a lot toward animals. She takes pretty much everything to heart, even if it doesn't show on the outside. So, yes, she's a special snowflake, just like all of our kids, and I could not love her more.

2. Please don't tell me, "Just make her. You're the parent." (Something else people have said and/or implied when I mention that she doesn't want to go do something with the family.) There are several reasons this is a bad idea.

The first is basic respect. Sometimes, James wants to go to breakfast on Sunday morning. It's difficult for me to try to do that and THEN get Mal to sit through any of church, too. How would I feel if James said, "But I'm your husband and I want you to come have breakfast with me, so you will. Let's go. Oh, and be pleasant or else"?

We pick our "you have to"s very carefully. For example: When we go on vacation, she'd be perfectly happy staying home by herself, but since she's only 14, that's just not an option. So she goes with us, and sometimes she chooses to get out and about (she did quite often in San Antonio) but sometimes, she'd rather just hang out at the hotel (like she did on our most recent trip). Neither James nor I would INSIST that the other do something we didn't want to, just in the name of family togetherness. Sometimes, we willingly subject our preferences in the name of relationship, but that comes from a place of genuine love and some more maturity. We respect her "No"s. (It's taken a while, and sometimes I still get irritated, but more on that in a minute.) She needs to know that her declination means something to us, and it should mean something to people she encounters in the future. Might does not equal right (despite what Dolores Umbridge might have you believe).

The second reason I wouldn't just make her do something that she'd rather not is that it's not therapeutic and would likely reinforce her anxiety. Think about something you HATE. Let's say you don't like heights. Is it going to be helpful if someone pushes you out of an airplane to skydive against your will in order to face that fear? It might, but it might make you even MORE terrified. Are spiders your thing? Would it be kind and helpful for someone to sit you in a crate and dump a bunch of tarantulas, daddy long legs, wolf spiders, orb spiders, and a whole other host of arachnids on you in order to assist you with overcoming what some might see as an unreasonable fear? Of course not.

Some people want to face their fears to overcome them. Some people drive out of their way not to have to cross bridges. We adults typically get to choose how we deal with the things that cause us stress. My daughter gets the same privileges. She knows herself. She knows her limits. She knows how to care for herself better than I do. She has coping mechanisms, and I don't feel right removing those from her. I want her to eventually emerge into the world on her own terms, feeling comfortable and confident, having solidly made her way herself. She needs the time and space to do that. Otherwise, she just shuts down and there can be no progress.

The third reason I won't "just make her" is that I've done it and it doesn't work. It took me about a year after she started wanting to stay home to learn to let her. I'd say, "We're going out as a family; come on." And she'd go. Then she'd sit at the table at dinner, not order food, and look down with tears welling up in her eyes the whole time. My response to that wasn't always flattering. My response was, at first, something to the tune of, "You're bringing us all down! Can't you at least try to participate in the family?" I see now that was unfair. She hadn't chosen to participate, and she wasn't purposefully being a downer; she was overwhelmed and dealing with it.

Slowly but surely, I've learned to read her and know when her "I'd rather not" means NO and when it means "You're going to make me anyway, aren't you?" with a grin. And sometimes, especially if she wants something, she will request an outing. Then, she's emotionally up for it, prepared, even excited. It's just that typically, she'd rather be on her own. So I let her be. She's growing up so fast; I'd rather spend the time dealing with her on relaxed terms, with trust that runs both ways.

3. Just know that there won't be pictures. Social media is fun, and I post a lot of pictures... but there won't be many (if any) of her. She doesn't want it. I feel like every human being deserves the right to determine whether or not their picture is taken, and if taken, shown anywhere in public. For me, pictures are a way to preserve memories. I want them, and I enjoy looking at them ten minutes after I took them or six years later. For her, they're uncomfortable. She doesn't like looking at pictures from when she was younger, and she doesn't want pictures taken of her today. I don't understand it. But I don't have to understand it to respect it. Would I like vacation pictures with the four of us smiling in front of whatever we're seeing? Of course. I'd love an updated family portrait (our last one was taken in September 2013, so way before bebe). But I already look back on enough pictures and see my girl smiling, but feel stabbed in the gut knowing how much pain she was in, and how much she was faking it. I'm not forcing pictures.

4. It's not sad. We're not sad. We're not put upon or that much different than your family or anyone else's, so you don't need to feel sorry for us, or assume we'll be relieved when this "blows over" or whatever. We love each other. We relate. We have fun. We're happy. It just doesn't look like everyone else. But it works for us. Do I sometimes wish it were easier just to run out and have a good old time? Sure. But right now, that would mean having a totally different kid, and I want you to know one thing for damn sure (I'm trying to cuss less, but this warranted it): I do. not. want. a different kid. I want my kid. I want that kid how she is, however she is. So I don't spend much time wishing things were another way. They are this way, and she is amazing. She's such a gifted artist, and at this point, except for when we have our dinner together every week night, she pretty much takes care of herself. She's learning so much about managing her time, and the life skills of cooking and nutrition, and research, and... she's just incredible. She could move out tomorrow and be fine, if she had a source of income. I'm glad she doesn't. I want her around for at least another half decade; maybe much longer, if she opens up to the idea of babysitting.

5. No, she's not seeing a therapist right now. Therapy only works if the person involved is motivated, and she doesn't want this right now. I'm sure there are ways she could learn to deal with her anxiety with input from someone uninvolved, but just as she's done with her art, she's trying to make her own way. She picks out fiddle toys and things to do to distract her. She listens to music. She has security "blankets." She wants to understand herself and is trying to work with that. She did go to come counselling a couple of years ago, when I found out I was expecting and a lot was changing in her world. I thought it was nice for her to have someone to talk to, and the counselor gave me some good things to think about. But when I ask her if it helped, she shrugs and declines to have another go at it. No big deal. Her life at this point is such that she can avoid her "triggers" quite often, if allowed to do so. And maybe, just maybe, as she gets older, they'll stop stressing her so much. Or she'll figure out the perfect way to fold them up and tuck them away so that she can do the things she wants to do. Right now, she does exactly what she wants to do. I hear her in her room giggling as she reads or watches videos. When her favorite cousin comes over, they have raucous conversations (honestly, this mom might be a tad jealous) and a great time. So I think she's doing great.

6. I wish I were a better mom almost every second of every day.

When I was about 12, I remember telling a favorite relative, who had just gotten married, about a heartbreak I'd experienced at school. She said breezily, "Oh, you'll see in a few years that it wasn't that big of a deal." I just smiled, but inside, I thought, "Shut up. You just got married and you're happy. What do you know?" And I swore to myself that I would never belittle a young person's feelings just because they didn't "seem" big to me. I think I've done a pretty good job of that, and have never told my child, "That's not even a thing! Why are you so upset?" Because I don't believe that there's such a thing as objectively "not a big deal." If it feels like a big deal (like my son had an emotional breakdown FIVE DIFFERENT TIMES in half an hour last night as he asked for an apple and I told him we were out; it was just as upsetting to him the final time as the first, and he was destroyed by it), it's a big deal.

However, it takes way too long for me to think outside of my own point of view most of the time. I default to interpreting what my child does through my understanding, and that often makes me short, frustrated, and graceless. Also, sometimes, if people talk to me about her, I might come off as very rude (I believe my mom said once, "You can tell me what you mean to say without yelling," even though it didn't feel like I could at that moment). I don't mean to, so I apologize in advance for that. When you worry that you're not doing your best, everything anyone says, even things that might be benign, feels like an accusation.

I want my child to feel like her family is a safe place. I am certain that it is. I love her unconditionally, and I accept her the exact way that she is (even though she definitely doesn't need my approval). I don't think that always comes out in the things I say and do. But, Lord knows, I'm trying.

That's about it, at least for now. So many of these posts are ended out of necessity, as I have another child who is trying to wake up from a nap. I'm glad he stayed down long enough for me to share these things with you. Thanks for reading! <3