What am I so afraid of?
What am I so afraid of??? As someone who does a fair amount of personal reflection, you’d think there aren’t many fears left unexamined. But there’s got to be something behind that hot flash of panic… that internal uproar… that literal ROARR… that is directed at my six year old. She is such a good kid, with such a big heart. She reminds me so much of myself. It’s no accident that she frazzles my frail nerves.
My internal rumblings:
“Why are there clothes everywhere when there is a hamper literally RIGHT THERE?!”
“Did she really ask for a snack, can’t she see that I just sat down!?”
“Where is she with that lunchbox, can’t she see I’m waiting?”
“For the love of G-d, how is she still putting on the first sock?!”
I worry that I’m destined for years of picking up clothes, finding food encrusted dishes, and turning off unneeded lights. I worry that I’m raising a slob who won’t know how to share space in college and beyond. These worries seem reasonable, and largely remediable. But they aren’t proportional to the furry. Hence I wonder, what am I afraid of?
I envision a future where she’s unwilling (or unable) to read a room, and adapt accordingly. She’s so assured of her needs, that she can’t appreciate others’. I’m worried that she’ll be entitled and inconsiderate.
But if I’m honest, I’m afraid of the opposite. I’m afraid that she won’t need to scan, adapt, and accommodate. I’m afraid that my hardest honed skills will be obsolete. I’m afraid that my struggles and my story will be irrelevant and I’ll be rejected.
I worked so hard not to be a needy child or a needy girlfriend. SO hard that I turned my coping strategies into skills, and then into values. I feel her pushing against me with all her stuff, her endless requests, her sheer volume. My inner voice wonders, “why is SHE allowed to take up space, isn’t it my turn?”
Eyes shut, hand to my heart, I mutter, “Yes, my love, you matter. It is OUR turn.”
I don’t know what it means to be considerate of others, without minimizing yourself. But I have to believe it is possible. I have to believe we can figure it out, together.
