This past week has been packed full of summer stuff. Reuniting with friends who are returning to the island after a summer away, youth group game day and a trip to the water park for my teens, meeting up with a Marine friend whose ship is in port, and on top of it all, every morning I’m dragging my butt to CrossFit and after that hour of pain, everything I do for the rest of the day feels like a physical challenge.
School starts in one week. Boo. I love summer and relaxed schedules and no homework. Camille would probably also prefer this summer to go on forever because she starts kindergarten in 10 days (she begins a few days after the boys) and the fear is rising.
She started with, “I’m excited and a little nervous.” then it was, “I’m a lot nervous, but a little excited.” And now it’s, “I’m a lot scared and a little nervous.” Poor thing. I’ve been there a million times.
This past week at Friday School at church, it was all fine until the teacher said the kids could draw pictures of their friends or family or people around the world — the point being that God’s love was for everyone. My little perfectionist sat for about 10 minutes, rolling the marker between her palms and looking around the room.
My girlie loves to draw and color, but today she felt like anything she did wouldn’t be good enough. Where do those mental messages originate?!? There must be a place in the brain that creates them, because she’s not hearing it from anywhere else. She kept saying, “it’s too hard!” I made the mistake of replying, “Baby, it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you try. Just like in kindergarten.”
Then I could see the waterfall of fear begin — the pressure, the unknown. This drawing suddenly represented all the failures she was sure to experience in school. She didn’t say any of this, but I remember those days. I remember my little red sweater and new shoes and how I worried for weeks before I started school. My girlie, she’s so much like me. Sucks to be her.
When I made the first markings on her paper for her (she needed “help”), she started to fill in a few details, but covered her work so no one could see.
This is where my mental illness began. I pray I can help her learn to deal with her anxiety so she doesn’t end up the way I did.
And then the pressure builds and up well the tears.
Laughing and crying at the same time. Laughing because she knows she’s being crazy and crying because she can’t help it. Yep. That’s my mini-me.
All this over a fun coloring project at church. She’s a mess.
Her emotions were totally raw and it was at this point that I finally realized that it was related to fear about starting school.
And then the sobbing started and she ended up in my arms like a baby. The next 10 days are going to be tough. For her sake I wish we could hurry up and get to the first day. Waiting for something to begin is the worst part of being us. We torture ourselves more terribly mentally than anything we’d ever face in real life.
I’m sure she’ll love it, but I told her if she can’t hack it, then we can always wait a year. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a kindergartener in school, so it’s a first for both of us.