Oh my Clarabelle. Such an amazing kid, with so many emotions. We’ve been chugging along into CB’s third grade year. She’s enjoying school, enjoying her friends, being very social. She’s just starting to find reading fun. All these wonderful things. Then there is the tough stuff. The stuff that I think about before going to bed. With all great changes and growing, there must be anxiety. Nights are hard for CB. She worries about dying, about cancer, about suffocating in her sleep. A bug bite is a tumor, a scratchy throat is death just waiting to happen. At the best she gets through, with a stoic look on her face. At the worst, I’m assaulted with tears and my kid asking me why she’d ever been born?
“Mama, sometimes it’s like I never should have been here. I just never should have been here. Why am I here? It must be a mistake.”
I don’t know how to describe the gut punch those words carry, but knowing my kid and who she is, does make the blow a little less painful. I know it’s shocking, but every phase of CB’s life plays at a different tempo. I think we’re dancing the fine line between an almost nine year old’s normal emotions and the abnormal clutches of anxiety.
So here I am, throwing it out to the universe. Hoping for the best. Cheering my kid on in silence, with hugs and kisses while being held close and an occasional quiet thumbs up from afar.
You can do this kid. For the record, you were born because I need you.