Part 1 of this series of posts can be found here.
My ex-wife and I have known that our daughter would probably have some anxiety issues. In fact, we’ve known the probability was pretty good for about 5 years now (since our daughter was about 3 years old). To some degree, I find a little bit of comfort in that fact. At that point in time, we were a seemingly happy, married couple and she was our little peanut. I suppose the comfort comes in knowing that our divorce did not cause this (though it certainly doesn’t help it much either).
Even as young as age 2 and 3, we could already see some of her anxious tendencies and characteristics. They were not hard for either my ex-wife or I to spot. It was like looking into a mirror. We both had had anxiety issues for most of our lives. For me, I was blessed with the gift of General Anxiety and Panic Disorder. Good times. Thankfully, these were not sustained issues throughout all of my years; they would pop in on me periodically to keep me in my place whenever things were going too smoothly. Well, diarrhea ain’t the only thing that runs in your, um… genes.
My daughter is a beautiful soul… She has the most gentle, caring demeanor, but is also prone to child anxiety issues.. She is wise far (way too far) beyond her years. I remember laying in bed with her when she was just 2 years-old. She had asked if Baxter (my brother’s dog) was in Heaven now that he died. All of these fine tidbits were acquired from her slightly older cousins; Baxter had died a week or so before. She asked me if she will see him again since he died. I probably should have just said yes, I know she was only 2, but it just didn’t feel right to lie to her. I told her no. After a pause of about ten seconds, I could already see the next question on her face… “Daddy, will you die?” She asked me already getting choked-up. Before I could even answer, she made the realization we all make as humans, but it was a cruel gift to give a girl so tender such a logical mind… Through tears and a broken voice, came THE question, “Daddy, will I die?” It was a harsh realization that no 2 year-old should ever have to make. It is these characteristics, her sensitivity, her logic, and her caring-nature, that together, act as a perfectly blended rocket-fuel that allows anxiety to blastoff.
Here we are now, today. She is 8 years-old and what could once be controlled, seems to run wild. When my daughter gets overly anxious now, it is on the verge of panic (a panic that no amount of consoling or rationalizing can quell). It is a brutal, helpless feeling to watch a loved one hurt so, but progress is already being made… We stood in the pouring rain and stood strong for one-minute through wind, thunder, and lightning, an unheard-of possibility just two-weeks ago. Most of the minute was spent with nervous giggles and complaints about getting wet. I’m glad we didn’t get struck by lightning…
In Part 3 of this series of posts, I will provide the specific resources and activities we are doing to help my daughter cope.
