We all have insecurities. Sometimes we can handle them and sometimes we let them control us. I have been dealing with them all of my life.
I'm not good enough.
I'm different, odd, strange.
I have let the fear behind those feelings control what I have done my whole life. There are times when my children do things and it brings those old insecurities back to the forefront.
Monday was the start of summer school. I had signed Bunny up for an art class. I thought she would love it. But I have to admit I was very ambivalent about the whole thing. It was at 10:30 five days a week. That pretty much shot any morning activity for four weeks. No trips to the zoo, no mornings at the pool.
Bunny seemed excited about the class. We drove to the school where it was being held (different than her regular school). I had to go to the office to find out where the room was because they didn't have a listing. While there we ran into one of Bunny's friends. She was excited thinking that A would be in her class but of course she was taking a different class.
When we lined up outside of the room, she started to get apprehensive when she saw all the new kids. Then she saw the teacher and she just lost it. She clung to my leg and started sobbing. She had never done that in K4. I thought it might just be the newness of it all so we went in to class.
I stood with her for a while. I tried to introduce her to some new girls hoping that would help. But I couldn't stay. Lion was about to tear the room apart. I told the teacher we would wait down the hall to see if things got better.
They did not. I could hear her making sounds like a wounded animal, deep painful cries. It seemed as though she was incapable of stopping. I waited 10 minutes and approached the classroom. The teacher saw me and held up a hand. Bunny was approaching the rug for the story. Maybe just maybe she would calm. She did not. It got worse.
The teacher brought her out to me and we left. Bunny could not calm down enough to tell me what was wrong. It took the drive home for her to stop crying enough to form coherent words. When we sat down to talk about it, I could tell she did not want to tell me what was wrong. She was afraid of something.
I assured her that whatever it was, I would not be mad. She finally told me her fear. I was surprised and explain it away. But she persisted. She pointed out concrete examples from her past where she had felt this fear. It explained a lot of strange behavior I had witnessed.
I didn't know what to do. I really didn't care if she went to the class or not but I was concerned about her fear. I didn't want her to not try something because she was afraid. I didn't want her to quit.
I sat and stewed about it for the rest of the day. I remember feeling that fear. I remember how I missed out on so many things because I was afraid to try. I remember how I had not taken chances, not expanded my horizons because I didn't want to leave my comfort zone.
I remember how I did something brave ONCE. I remember how I held on to that one thing. I could rationalize not being brave other times because when I was 22 I did something.
So I worried about Bunny. She had to face her fear. She had to do this because I didn't want her to be 41 years old still holding on to a memory from 19 years ago.
Then I realized that I was projecting all of my insecurities on to her. She is not me. She is her own person. She is only 5. She doesn't need to conquer the world now. She needs to play and have fun. And I need to relax a little bit.
She is not me and I am not her.