In my last post I explained that my daughter, Miss Em, has begun attending a “real” school. We found a lovely little private school that seemed the perfect fit for her, and a great place to move forward with her social and academic development. Unfortunately, neither her nor I anticipated just what a huge change this would be for her, and it ended up triggering her anxiety to levels we haven’t seen in a long time.
Our whole family was excited about her first day, and so was she. But only a couple hours into it she begged me to come pick her up. She was having a huge anxiety attack and was terrified of having a meltdown in front of all these strangers.
The next morning I met with the teacher support person who helps students both academically and with their social/emotional needs. Although Em took to her immediately and her presence was comforting, Em continued to suffer from anxiety. It was hard for her to put into words what the problem was, so it was hard for the rest of us (me and her teachers) to figure out how best to support her. I was blown away by the concern and desire to help that was expressed by the staff: I could not have asked for a kinder, more supportive environment for her.
For her part, Em remained positive and determined. She knew that the first little while would be tough, and she knew that eventually she would get to know the other students and teachers. She looked forward to feeling part of a family, as she had at her previous program. Still, she was struggling to make it through one class per day.
Last week was the start of the new semester, and they begin with a week of team-building and group exercises. She had a great week, and I honestly thought the worst was behind us. She even made friends with a girl who loves to draw. I really thought that was the final turning point, and from there on in, we would have smooth sailing. The following week (this past week) the new coursework began, and we were both feeling positive about it.
So it was with dismay that I found myself once again responding to a text message asking me to come and take her home. As soon as she got into the car she burst into tears, saying how hard this was, how she was beginning to doubt herself, etc. My heart ached for my daughter, and I recalled with sadness all the struggles she has faced in her short life.
I lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about the problem and what we could do to help her. I recalled the words she had said to me in anguish: how she felt so lost, how she felt she must be much less intelligent than these other kids, how she dreaded going to sleep at night because it would bring another day that much closer. Even though my own life was currently worry free, my heart was suffering for her.
But then early the next morning, as I was slowly waking up, I had a lightbulb moment. I felt I had finally figured out what the problems were and – most importantly – I came up with a solution.
Continued next post…