It’s been both a pleasure and a heart breaking journey watching my youngest daughter transition from the preschool years to elementary school. For many parents, watching their children thrive in school is an exciting journey. For myself, it’s been difficult.
My youngest daughter has anxiety. It’s not anything that has required a diagnosis, medication or any visits with a child psychologist. It’s nothing that’s debilitating or prevents her from learning or making friends. It’s just something that I’m aware of and our school helps us in taking steps to better help her.
It started with after school restraint collapse during kindergarten and progressed into some quirks that we have learned to deal with.
Large crowds can terrify her if she doesn’t have a firm hold on our hands. Most of the time she’s alright but the moment she loses sight of one of us, she’s melts into a puddle of tears. The cafeteria at school was at one point one of the most frightening ordeals she has ever had to deal with. Public bathrooms which include the bathrooms at school, are generally avoided. The hollowed echoes, the whoosh of the large toilet flushing, the smells, the strangers…it all sends her emotions into a tailspin. She has bathroom privileges in the nurses office.
Assemblies were nerve racking for her but she now handles them with ease. Kids pushing and pulling on her, hurt her deeply. Not understanding something on a test causes her little mind to go completely blank. She will usually just sit there at her desk working herself up into a tizzy until she starts crying. But…give her a math packet and a quiet table and she will be the first student done.
P.E. was interesting as she vehemently refused to join in on any group sports. She was more than happy to sit against the wall and watch. In this, she understood her own boundaries so we never pushed the issue. I honestly could care less if she gets a poor grade in P.E. because I already know she’s physically fit. She can run and jump on our trampoline for hours. She can ride a bike without training wheels. She enjoys gymnastics and dancing.
I recently put her in a ballet and tap class because she loves to dance around our living room. I can tell she’s struggling as the younger kids bump into her. I can tell she’s getting overloaded as they play, “Princess in the Circle.” She’s being pulled left and right by an overzealous five-year-old. Yet, I’m proud because she’s handling it.
I could pull her out of the class, I could request the school have her wear head phones to block out noises, I could keep her safely at home and choose to home school her. The reason I don’t is because I had the same anxiety issues when I was her age. I know she has to be pushed into these social situations because shielding her would not be doing her in any favors.
The world is not a quiet, orderly place. It’s messy, it’s loud, it’s chaotic and it’s full of both kind people and unkind people. Just like me, she will have to learn to adjust to every stimulus thrown at her until she slowly grows out of it or discovers how to handle the excess stimulus on her own.
I watch her when she comes home from school…if it’s a bad day, she usually cries and sits on the couch with her stuffed bear running the ribbon bow across her upper lip. (This has been comforting her since she was a toddler) I see so much of myself in her. I still come home after a long day, crawl into my bath robe and weighted blanket in order to calm the overload of my anxious brain. I usually take a hot bath every night because the warmth of the water calms me down.
I’ve learned to adjust in a world where I’m consistently overloaded without much of an outlet. I want her to learn to adjust too and she is. Every year is another milestone for her of emotional learning. I constantly worry about her but I still encourage her to try new things, even if they can be a bit frightening at first.
I sometimes cry for her. I crawl into the shower or hide in the laundry room because I just want her to be happy and comfortable at school. I don’t want to see her struggling as a seven-year-old. It breaks my heart.
But…I’m reminded of myself. I didn’t enjoy school as a child but I sure love my life now. All of her anxiety issues, I also struggled with but I’ve learned healthy coping techniques and I wouldn’t change myself for anything in the world. I feel guilty at times because I know I passed it on to her. However, I know the reward is greater than the struggle.
I’ve learned to be strong in a world that is not equipped for those with anxiety. I have weeks on end without a single anxious moment and when it hits me, when I feel it creeping up on me, I know exactly what I need to do.
My daughter has started writing. She writes notes and little poems to the people in her life that she cares about. This feels me with such joy because writing was the very first coping technique I learned. I couldn’t exist as a person if I didn’t have my writing so in an essence I couldn’t live without my anxiety.
I know within the deepest center of my being that she will not let it define her. Childhood may be a struggle but adulthood will be filled with wonder. Until then, I will keep encouraging her and loving her and offering her that safe place when she needs it. She’s my daughter, an extension of myself and I know she will be fine.
