I spent all day today trying to get help for one of my kids. Answers. Reasons.
That phase we had hoped would be outgrown someday hasn't been. It's not just a phase, it's more than that.
The first person I met with today, the psychologist. The intro meeting, the info meeting, the warn them what they're dealing with meeting, the before the kid meets them meeting.
Giving a full history for both sides of the family, opening all the closet doors, digging up all the ugly skeletons and laying it out there for someone else to see is exhausting to say the least.
Let's just say we have the kind of history that tends to make even the most seasoned therapists flinch.
I'm going to assume that's not a good thing.
Combine all that with medical histories on both sides of anxiety, depression, addictions, anorexia and more....it's no wonder that my kids have issues.
I have issues.
Their father has issues.
Most of the people in our family have issues.
I just naively wished that they would somehow escape it all. That they'd be able to go through life without all this excess baggage. Without extra challenges in addition to whatever else life throws at them. I wished that they would somehow defy the odds, and not take after us.
I was wrong.
The apple didn't fall very far from the tree at all.
Goddamn apple trees.
That all would have been draining enough, but I seem determined to get the ball rolling in every way I can to figure all this out. Met with the pediatrician too. The doctor who's known my kids since they were babies. Who knows our history. Who knows their quirks. Who knows that what's going on isn't normal. Who knows we need help. Who called me on a weekend to talk about it all before I marched in there with my brave mama face on today, holding the hand of my child.
We can do this.
We will do this.
We will do everything we can to help them navigate this world, no matter what cards they are dealt, no matter how much the deck is stacked against them.
I've got my eyes wide open, and as much as it hurts to admit that so much of this comes from me, I'm doing it. I'm owning it. I'm staring it down in the mirror, and I'm seeing it in the eyes of my babies.
I'll be all the things the tree is supposed to be, even with it's flaws and knots, with it's twisted branches and spots of weakness.
I'll be strong and sturdy. I'll weather the storms. I'll shield them from harm, I'll raise them the best I can, I'll help them as much as I'm able.
They'll be the apples they are. Beautiful, different, sweet and sour. Delicate, yet full of life. Some just a little more bruised than the others.
As much as it hurts, I'll let them fall.
I'll just be there to pick them up when they do.
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