It Scares Me

It scares me to think, in a short couple of years, Mya will want to shave her legs.  Can I trust her with a razor, alone, in the bathtub?

 It scares me to think, Mya isn’t old enough to know how to really hurt herself, but will there be a bully in a few years that teaches her ways to hurt herself beyond repair?

 It scares me to think, when Mya goes to middles school, and high school, there will be mean kids that try to bring her self-esteem even lower. 

 It scares me to think, will she ever find a friend who is good to her, and helps her?  Or, will she always be drawn toward the kid who hurts her, because she thinks it’s okay, because they like her, and want to play with her?

 It scares me to think, if she’s at school, or anywhere, and gets hurt, she won’t say anything.  She won’t cry out, she won’t ask for help.

 I have so many fears of what her future holds. 

 I know she’s smart, but she’s also naïve. 

 I know she’s guarded, but she’s also overly trusting.

 It scares me to think how she must feel at school each day, completely out of her comfort zone.  I see what she does to herself while she’s at school.

 
Right now, I’m at a place where I no longer know what to do.  Medication doesn’t seem to be helping.  Therapy doesn’t seem to be helping.  The school says she’s fine.  I know she’s not.

Where do you go from here?

 

 

Every. Single. Day.

 

This is our new norm

 

Homework is always stressful

 

One place is barely healed and new place begins

 

Scar

As you may have figured out by now, we have daily struggles with Mya, and her anxieties, and OCD.  Every day, when I pick her up, I’m always drawn to her hands.  The reason being, every day, she had a new place where she’s picked or chewed.  I don’t think there’s a day in the week where we don’t have to apply Neosporin and a Band-Aid.  It has become a part of our life.

On Facebook, I recently posted some pictures from a themed photo shoot, where Mya was dressed as Scar, from the Lion King.  I knew she would want to be Scar, because any time she can get an opportunity to portray an animal, she’s all in. 

The other day, the photographer posted another of Mya’s pictures, and I immediately saved it to my files.  Since all of my family and friends don’t have Facebook, I always send out a bulk e-mail to include them in our day to day lives.

Here’s the picture that was most recently posted.

 

I immediately shared it, via e-mail, with those who aren’t on Facebook.  Never in a million years did I expect this response from my Aunt:

 “While other people will get caught up in how beautiful she is, the expression on her face, the look in her eyes, her fabulous hair, etc….

I was immediately drawn to her fingers.

How many people will notice how ‘worn’ her cuticles are?

To me, her fingers reveal more of the spirit of ‘Scar’ than the make-up on her face.

The struggles, the life and death situations, the toughness, are hidden behind the mask so beautifully painted and portrayed.

But, beneath the character in the photograph, lies a child who deals with the untold struggles of a child with an anxiety disorder.”

I have read it a million times, and haven't stopped thinking about it.  I couldn’t believe I wasn’t the only one that immediately noticed the places on her fingers.  Someone who can relate, who has lived it, and who understands the struggle.  While sad to think about, it was a breath of fresh air.  I’m not alone in this.  I have the love and support of so many.  And for that, I’m very thankful.

Later she responded again, with this:

“A scar is born out of weakness.

The delicate skin is torn.

It heals, from the inside out.

Almost impossible to tear, a scar is tougher than the original skin.

 

While others see the scar and realize that you’ve been hurt,

You can look at the scar and appreciate that you are stronger than you used to be!”

 

I’m in awe.