So… I took a selfie tonight and I must say, my face has begun to age. I noticed a slight change two years ago but in tonight’s picture, I can see even more aging. I don’t know how I feel about this just yet. I have candidly made comments that I was going to start saving for a facelift.
Growing up everyone said I was a spitt’n image of my dad. I didn’t like that because I thought little girls were supposed to look like their mommas.
Back to the picture…
The features of mine that are aging are the same features in my fathers aging face; meaning that although everyone now says I look like my Ma, I resemble my father more.
What a bummer.
[Maybe that’s why he rejected me. A mirror image will make you do one of two things: change or never look in that mirror again. He chose the latter]
So I can see why I would have plastic surgery. Reconstruct my image to suit the more confident, brave(r) me. I just want a little nip and tuck around my neck area. It is sagging.
Oh, yeah… I haven’t started working on forgiving my dad, yet. I don’t know how you prove emotional abuse but I was emotionally tormented by my father.
I need to put that out there so I can begin healing. I would have rather been raised in his absence. And I have carried around his lies about who I am for far too long.
This will require a counselor.
I am saying out loud
I, Candace Lynne, will make an appointment with a therapist by March 1, 2019.
I am ready to get on with my life. See what it has to offer me or better yet, what I have to offer it.
With a nice lift 😉 in my spirits.
Watching my daughter cope with anxiety, that is now showing up physically, has been one of the hardest, eye-opening experiences of my life.
For those of you that are new around these parts, I have one child, a daughter, who will be 17 in two weeks. She is the most respectful, intelligent, compassionate, young lady. Yes, I am biased but she truly displays those characteristics.
She has struggled with performance anxiety ever since kindergarten where she had to dance on stage with a partner in front of the magnet performing arts school, kindergarten parents. She would shake her hands while her arms flailed by her side as if she were shaking off the numbness. Over the years her coping skills remained similar, from shaking her hands to stretching her fingers. Within the past three years, her anxiety has reached an all-time high with her once favorite sport, soccer.
She had her first anxiety attack last Friday at school. Up to Friday and through tonight (Thursday), she hasn’t been doing so well. She got on the field tonight for a brief moment. I know my child and I know she isn’t ok. I am giving her time to process what it is that has gotten her in such an upheaval. Come next Friday, when I get her, she should be ready to talk.
The pressure of her academic courses has increased with two of her classes demanding more time than she has in a day. As a junior in high school, she enrolls in courses receiving college credit. Piled on top of soccer has become too much for her to handle. Instead of quitting, my daughter shows up. She cheers on her team from the bench as I stare at her across the field. She has a muscle in her upper thigh, her I.T. band, that is preventing her from playing. I believe it is her anxiety manifesting itself.
Coming from a parent, it is torcher to watch, heartbreakingly so. There is a helplessness that makes me feel inadequate along with a sense of blame. She struggles because of me. With mental illness having a genetic trait, I fear it’s debilitating wrath.
Needless to say the past two weeks, with my own growing pains, have extended themselves to an emotional roller coaster. We are moving into week three and I desperately need a solution or at least that’s how it feels. This to shall pass.
Have you dealt with mental illness within your family?? Give us some advice. We need it! Share in the comments or chat via email.