I’m tip toeing through a minefield of Lego’s. One wrong move and it’s pain. Things were going great, until…
Ouch! I can’t. My stomach hurts. My head is all fuzzy and I can’t think straight.
Step 2. I prod, coax, ask. No pressure.
No. I can’t do it. It hurts. I can’t think.
Can I have some Reiki?
Ok Little Bunny. Relax. I’ll help you unwind this big knot in your tummy. Would you like a decongestant? No.
Do you think you can just try to go to school?
Just try. Even if it’s for a little while. All you have to do is just sit there.
I can’t do it.
Yes you can – spoken with the most compassion I can muster.
I can’t think straight. I’m afraid. She’ll make me work. I can’t do it.
Sure you can…
Frustration wells up and then I push. You need to at least try going. Just for the first hour. You must go. Get your clothes back on! Put your shoes on!! Get going!!!
Tears. Anguish. Pain. I can’t do it. His feet are in cement.
Now!!!! Get. Your. Clothes. On!!!! Get in the car!!
Fear and pain eclipse his brain and torrents of tears come. I feel his torture. I can’t do this.
That which I resist persists, and in proportion to my resistance.
What am I doing? If I keep pushing, am I traumatizing him? Am I screwing him up (like my mother did to me)? If I give in am I letting him get away with something? Am I crippling him, allowing his anxiety to rule his brain? What will his teacher think, missing yet another day of school? What does she think of me, of him?
Fuck it. Fuck what anyone thinks. Today, the heart rules. I give.
Ok. You’ll just have to deal with it all tomorrow. I give up. It’s just not worth it.
And how was your Monday morning?