If you are friends with me on Facebook then you know that our oldest daughter has had a pretty big year. This was her senior year of high school and there were many Kodak moments (does her generation even know what that phrase means?). She accomplished a lot and gave us much to be proud of. She has worked extremely hard for what she has achieved.
As I have written about in other blog posts, our daughter was born with a few extra spoonfuls of anxiety. As a small child things like puppy dogs, kitty cats, and even a few stuffed animals made her tremble in her stride rites. My husband still has a bad back from all the times she climbed him like a tree when we were out and about and an adorable puppy unexpectedly crossed our paths. But, this blog post isn't about puppies. She was and is a person who struggles with anxiety. My husband and I have spent the last eighteen years trying to make her world as safe and as stress-free as possible. We have been her "champions", her "super-heros" who try to check the road before her for anything that might cause her distress. This year she turned eighteen and she will go to college next year (luckily she was given a few extra helpings of brain along with the extra anxiety). She is more than ready for this milestone but I often wonder how she will face her fears without us there to help her. Yet, I know that we are not immortal and that at some point she needs to learn how to navigate this world without us. This is something that I think all parents worry about, but for those of us with kids who have "above-average" struggles, this concern can be all-consuming at times.
She has a fear of needles.
Fear might not be the right word. She has a wall-climbing, chandelier-hanging, kicking and screaming fear of needles. Her annual flu shot has frequently required multiple medical professionals to help keep her calm and steady. We have gone to the doctor's office in the early morning hours or at the end of the day so that she will not upset the six year olds who are facing their flu-shot fate with a brave face.
She has not had a blood test since she was three years old.
Last year at her annual check up her pediatrician brought up the fact that before she went to college she would need a blood test. I immediately saw the flash of panic in her eyes. I knew that for a brief moment she was contemplating not attending college at all. Tears filled her eyes and she started to tremble. The doctor tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to calm her down but the damage had been done. As soon as we left the office my daughter immediately started giving me the reasons why she didn't actually need the blood test, and could I please, please, pleeeeeeeease not make her do it. This was a 17 year old. All I could think while I walked with a tearful, begging child through the parking lot was "how will she make it in this world?" I spoke on the phone with the doctor several times after this and we came up with all sorts of plans to get the blood test done. Words like sedatives, numbing creams, and child life specialists were all thrown around. In the end, the doctor and I decided to put it on the back burner for a bit. Different colleges require different blood tests and we should wait until we knew where she would be attending before we took action, since we knew this was a one "shot" deal. There was a high probability that once we took a vial of blood she would head for the hills so we had to make it count.
To be honest, with the stress of senior year, and all that it entails, I kind of forgot about the whole thing. There were applications to fill out, then the admission letters came in, decisions had to be made and then there were all the end of year events. When the dust settled from the school year, we had to start thinking about the logistics of getting her ready for school. About a month ago we received a packet of health forms that needed to be filled out. It sat on our kitchen island for a loooooong time, untouched, but carefully eyed by my daughter every time she came into the room. To be fair, I didn't really want to "go there" either. I knew that eventually this was something that would have to be done, but I was in no rush myself. But, there was a deadline fast approaching that we were all well aware of, and avoiding like the plague. Besides, there were other things to do. For example, she had to register for classes, and take some placement tests. She did that. She had to find out who here roommate was, and decide who would bring the fridge. Done. She needed to get her final transcript sent to the school. Sent. She needed to, she needed to, she was running out of things she "needed to" do.
The health envelope sat alone on the kitchen island and seemed to shout out at her every time she ran by and try to elude it, "I'm still here".
I wasn't any better, I continued to ignore the whole thing. Some "champion" or "super-hero" I was.
A couple of nights ago, late at night I received a text from my daughter, "I need to get the blood test. I need to do it tomorrow."
I was intrigued.
If you are familiar with the Harry Potter stories you know the moment went Harry Potter and Dumbledore go in search of the the horcruxes that Voldemort has carelessly left around here and there, so they can destroy them, and thus, destroy his soul. There is a scene when Harry and Dumbledore are in a cave and Dumbledore has to drink the "potion of despair" to get to the horcrux. Here is the scene from the movie if you would like to familiarize yourself with it.
The next text I received from my daughter reminded me so very much of this scene. She explained to me that I was to make her get the blood test no matter what. That she would likely kick, scream, and give me a million excuses why she couldn't do it but that I shouldn't listen to her. It was time, there was a deadline looming, and it needed to get done. No more excuses. She was resolved.
This all came out of the blue to me.
I went down to her room where she was curled up on her bed, tears streaming down her face and I told her that I had never been prouder of her.
She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Really? Never?"
"Nope. Never."
"Not even when I was admitted to college?"
"Nope"
"Not even when I graduated?"
"Not even close."
"I am a mess!" she exclaimed, "I am crying and shaking, how can you be so proud of me?"
I can't remember my exact words but I told her that I was proud of her because she was doing something that needed to be done, but that she didn't want to do with every fiber of her being.
While getting into college was challenging, it was something she wanted to do and graduating from high school, while a big milestone, was really not all that difficult for her personally. She was now facing something that was really tough, and had decided to face it head on instead of hiding under the bed. You are far from a coward if you keep moving towards your fears, even with your puffy eyes, tear streaked cheeks, and trembling lips. There is nothing wrong with being scared. Nothing at all.
The next morning, as the hour drew near, I went to her room to wake her up, bracing myself for resistance. But, there was no resistance. Instead, the girl got herself out of bed and got dressed. She got in the car without a fight and walked into the doctor's office on her own two feet. She sat on the table in the exam room and offered her arm. She did what she came to do.
Getting into college doesn't guarantee success in this world, it doesn't even guarantee success in college. It just tells you that you've been given permission, based on your credentials, to advance to the next space in the game of life.
Giving blood doesn't guarantee success in this world either. But, when you see someone gritting their teeth, and facing their biggest fears, tears or no tears, it's a pretty good indicator that they are going to give it their best shot. It's also the moment that you realize that there was a very good reason that you didn't play "champion" or "superhero" in this instance. It was time for someone else to put on that cape.
Be your own superhero!!!!!
Note: In case you are reading this and thinking that this is too much to share, this blog was written with permission of my daughter.
