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
