When I went through my therapy for OCD one of the therapies was recognizing the impact my OCD had on others in my life. How, I shoved my OCD on them through manipulation and other means. At the time I thought I understood but I also thought it kind of selfish of others being impacted to not understand my forever excuse: “But I have OCD!”
Then last week it clicked. You know why it clicked? Because # 2 had a bad day. I got spoiled and really thought what therapy she has had has helped and this year was good. Then it started coming, “My tummy hurts, Momma.” She never says it to her dad. Only to me because she knows I harbor my own fear of stomach issues. She knows right where to hit. What ensued the rest of the day was a whirlwind of emotions, phone calls and drives to school. Her trying to get those around her to bend to her will to alleviate whatever it was that was bothering her. Her teacher, her “go-to” person, myself, her dad and sister, we all tried taking our stab at what we thought it was that was bothering her. I am not sure we ever found the exact answer. But instead of saying, “Hey guys, this bothers me.” It turned into her manipulating us and the situation she is in so the focus was more on figuring out how to get her back to normal instead of fixing what it was that was actually bothering her.
The part I hate….going from feeling horribly sad for her to being horribly angry with her. An example, it had just gotten so bad with her at school that she was beyond calming. They called and asked me to come and get her. I throw my sleeping 2 year old in the car and I cry all the way to her school. I am driving at insane amounts of speeds and running stop lights. I call my guy saying maybe meds are the best. This just isn’t gonna work. She can’t handle it and neither can I. It is too much for everyone involved. I get there and I pick her up. She skips to me with her backpack on her back all smiles saying, “Love you, Mom!” I sat there completely and utterly pissed because I realized she just totally worked all involved over. She got what she wanted and that was out of the situation that caused her anxiety.
Then I got it. She was playing that, “But I have anxiety” card. We didn’t follow the plan set by her therapist. However, it was the first time it had to be carried about by those at school with us just one the phone. As well, we know the classrooms are over crowded and they just don’t have the time to deal with these situations rightfully so. We regrouped and realized that there were lessons learned and plans made for future issues. It ended up being for the best. But I amazed at just how similar she is to me. She struggled seeing how her decisions impacted those around her and when questioned on it she would respond, “Momma, I think it is my anxiety.” I tried to get her to understand just how much she changed at least five peoples day’s that day.
The part I suck at is being the tough one. I am the one she manipulates and works over because I know how anxiety feels. It sucks and I hate that she has to feel it. So if I can fix it I want to. But that doesn’t help. I have to be tough and act as if I don’t feel her anxiety or want to save her. I hold tight in front of her and walk away and cry my eyes out. I know it is what she needs but that is not the parent I am. Unfortunately, it is who I have to be to make it better for her. That doesn’t make it any easier which is why I buy waterproof mascara.