A little over a year ago, my son was having an extremely difficult time in school, and I read an article that sparked this letter to him: I See You, A Letter To My Son.
Even though it’s only been a year since then, so much has happened that I wanted to write a new letter to my son.
To My Beautiful and Amazing Son,
You’ve been to hell and back recently, haven’t you. I wanted you to know that I see how brave you have been.
I see how brave you are to allow a blood draw, when I know the thought of it terrifies you.
I see how strong you are when you wake up every day to a brain that still calls anxiety it’s go-to feeling, and you manage most days to flip a switch and leave that bitch at the curb.
And on days when anxiety just won’t let you alone, I see how messed up it makes you feel. And it’s ok.
I see how you white knuckled it through school all those years, to please me, your teachers, and everyone else.
And I see that you couldn’t do it a second longer.
I see you white knuckle it through dentist visits and hair cuts because of sensory overload, discomfort and pain.
I see your patience with me as I fumble along, trying to figure out how to navigate the new and unexpected.
And even when you don’t want to take one more supplement pill or capsule, I see you do it anyway, because right now, they are critical.
I see the independent teenager you are becoming, simultaneously being the boy who still needs his mom every now and then.
I see that when you are excited to learn about something, you pour yourself into it with everything you have and are. And that’s what education should look like: excitement.
I see that it takes your brain a little bit longer to process certain new information, and that you struggle with that particularly because otherwise, your brain goes so unbelievably fast.
I see how much in your young life is a struggle and is painful, and I understand that the glass is often half empty.
And I see your heart, when I’m having a tough day and all you want is for me to feel better.
I see your potential as unlimited, because with your golden heart, your drive, and your intellect, you are most definitely going places in this world. I don’t know where you’ll end up or how you’re going to get there, but I know it will be amazing. As amazing as you are.
You are both very amazing people. What a beautiful letter.
Just beautiful, Sue; your son is very lucky… as are you. xo
You’ve left me speechless…
A www. Thanks. I’ve had a lot of help along the way, learning how to see.
Stay the course and continue to grow, my friend.