Nothing says summer like driving a child to therapy 40 minutes away on a beautiful sunny day.
Today hubby and I went together to our child’s anxiety therapist. As we were exchanging niceties after not seeing each other for over a year, I noticed she took out a notebook and pen.
Therapist: So Sweet one, tell me some things that have gone really well for you this past year.
Kid: (thinking) Well, I’m not sure…
Father: How about you finished grammar school?
Kid: Yes, that was good!
Therapist: Mom, why don’t you tell me how Sweet one is.
Me: Well, I think she’s both anxious and depressed; nothing is ever good enough and she never wants to do anything.
Therapist: (Writing.) Well, she’s definitely anxious….. and depression usually runs in families. Do either of you have a history of it?
Unsure of how to handle the awkward silence- as hubby sat there avoiding the fact that two of his family members 86’d themselves, I stepped in.
Me: Well, I have some anxiety and I guess some depression….
Therapist: …What does it look like in Sweet one?
Me: …Well, its just like… well, its like she’s a mini me and unfortunately she doesn’t look like me or have any of my good qualities- she just is exactly how I was as a kid.
Hubby: Thank you. Thank you. You finally are acknowledging that this is all you.
Therapist: (Woke) (Frenetically Writing) I’d like you to explain to her what you mean by unfortunately, because that comment is going to stick with her and I think you need to tell her that its not unfortunate she is like you… because that’s going to hurt her for life.
And just like that, hubby got extra ammo and a get out of jail card handed to him.