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Since she was a young girl, my 12-year-old daughter, Emily, has always known what she wants (or doesn't) want out of life.
"Mommy, I'm going to be a dentist when I grow up," she has repeatedly told me.
I must admit, I was quite pleased with her decision, tossing around the benefits in my head. (Free dental for Mom and Dad. Woot! Woot! Access to laughing gas. Woot! Woot! Someone to write our prescriptions. Woot! Woot!)
I was, however, dejected when she shared with me the reason for her aspiration.
"If I become a dentist, then I'll never have to go to one ever again."
Her choice, like so many others in her young life, has been governed by one thing - her deep anxiety. And unfortunately for me (and the 95,000 dentists in our area we have tried out for her) nothing fires up her anxiety more than a trip to the dentist. According to Emily, the dentist's office has all the things she fears most -- "screechy" noises, "big scary" needles, "squiggly" tastes, and "icky" smells.
Her anxiety, however, is not just limited to the dentist's office; it's pretty much about everything. You see, in addition to having a diagnosis of non-verbal learning disability, she suffers from severe anxiety. Her sister (who has Asperger's syndrome) does as well, though it escapes my husband and me where they got it from.
"Oh my God, Mike! What are we going to do with our anxious kids? Will they outgrow it? Will they get married? Will they have kids? What if their kids have it? Will we have to babysit anxious grandchildren? What if our grandchildren's grandchildren have it? Where did this come from?"
"Gina, I have no idea. Oh and by the way, Walgreens called and said your Klonopin is ready."
Unfortunately for many parents of children with special needs, anxiety is a part of everyday life. Most of us probably never imagined the situations our children's anxiety would put us in.
"Gene when I married you, I had no idea you were a bed hopper."
"Me neither, Mike. But with Em's nighttime anxiety, I never know what bed I'm gonna wake up in."
The worst part is, our daughter's anxiety is almost always over something about which she has no control. Like the weather. She's constantly worried about storms and pulling up weather maps on the computer."
"Mom! There's a tornado warning tonight! I'm scared! Are we gonna die?"
"Ahh, Em, you are looking at the weather in Tanzania."
"Yeah, but is it gonna come here afterwards?"
We're probably the only parents who've made strange restrictions on our daughter's use of the computer. "Emily, if we catch you on weather.com one more time, we're going to take away your barometer."
She's particularly anxious about lightening, which is a common occurrence in New England summer. I've tried my best to comfort her, though I have learned that the weather is indeed, unpredictable.
"Mom, I just heard thunder! Are we going to get lightening?" She asked me during a January blizzard.
"Emmy, don't be ridiculous. I've lived in Massachusetts my whole life and have NEVER, EVER seen lightening in the winter. You worry too much!" I said, just as a bolt of lightening knocked out our power.
Knowing her anxiety, you can imagine how well she has been managing all those "doomsday" predictions. During the May 21 mayhem, I did my best to hide it from her, and actually was succeeding until some blabby kid on the school shortbus spilled the news, damaging my already poor credibility with her.
"MOOOOOOOOOMMM! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME I'M GOING TO DIE TOMORROW! YOU LIED TO ME AGAIN!"
It's probably not a surprise that we have no Mayan calendars in our home. Nope. For us, it's rainbows and unicorns all the way.
The most difficult part of anxiety is that it knows no reason. When she's worked up about something, there's very little I can do to soothe her or get her to think rationally.
"Emily, I'm telling you, there's never been a tsunami in an above-ground pool."
Our decision to take her on a cruise probably chould have been better thought out, too.
"Em, I swear, there are no icebergs in Bermuda."
What are some things that make your child anxious?
