I am not saying that children nor adults can’t have anxiety to the degree where it’s a disorder because both of mine were diagnosed with it. Both chose to take medications which they subsequently went off of (with Dr. approval) and one continues with therapy and has been able to make great strides. The other one refuses any therapy and is floundering.
But the floundering one and I had a chat since we had a discussion earlier that didn’t end well. What I have been very grateful for throughout the divorce and now years later has been that we are all committed to remain bonded as a family through good times and bad. Even when someone’s mad as hell, there’s love and that’s the center of our family existence.
I had the opportunity because he opened the door (to listening to me) a crack so I scooted in tentatively. I minded my words, not wanting to upset him, easing around the reasons for his ‘anxiety’ and staying positive without stepping on his wounds. It was a tap dance for sure and I’m not really a good tap dancer. I could see he was getting aggravated and finally he said, “Just say it Mama. Shoot straight.”
I could see the kid wanted brutal honesty, but could he handle it?
“Are you strong enough for it? Do you really want me to say what I see because I think it might make you really mad. I’m not looking for another discussion, but if you’re open and you know that I am saying this with love and not to hurt you, I will. But if you think you might be enraged by the truths I think I’m seeing and willing to tell you, then I don’t want to go there with you until you feel you are welcoming insight. It’s up to you.”
To his credit he thought about it. He knows that I have insight (channeling) at times, but that sometimes it comes out harsher when the point needs to be made and I can’t seem to soften it when I know something needs to be said. It’s just out there even though I try to preface it with love.
“Ok. Yes. Do it.” He sat on the couch and I began as usual looking in his eyes and telling him that he’s a good person and that I love him (both are truths), but that I see things differently than the story he’s telling himself.
I could see I was losing him quickly. “I get it Mama. Just say it.”
“Ok.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and began. With my eyes wide open looking at him, a stream of truths unfolded. I talked about the repression of feelings he’s keeping that are emerging as anger, sleep deprivation and sadness. The lack of focus which he’s calling anxiety or the criss-crossing of trains is the fact that he doesn’t want to process the emotions he’s bottling up and so they’re jumping all over, never actually stopping at a station for long because of the fear of what’s behind the emotion which is manifesting as feeling anxious (in my unprofessional opinion). So the relief he seeks is in numbing out, but the feelings are still there festering underneath and gaining strength with each repression.”
I stopped and looked at him trying to gauge what he was thinking. He closed his eyes and was quiet for a few minutes. I sat nearby and waited patiently.
“I can see that,” he replied. “Perhaps not all of it, but yeah. Probably. But I still think I have anxiety.”
I nodded. “But I don’t want to go back over all those emotions. I don’t want to feel all the trauma again. I don’t want to deal with it. I want to move on. I want it over.”
“The only way I’ve known to get better is to go through it. Yes again. But in a different way than the original experience. Would you like to try to do it together?”
He shook his head. I understood because I’m part of the story too. So I suggested a soul reading with a friend who he knows. He agreed. So let’s see how it goes…
This was a draft I never published, but I’m sending it out now…See LA, I’m clearing out my drafts! LOL