As my daughter prepares for her first day of kindergarten, I can’t help but worry about all the things that might go wrong. She might encounter that mean-spirited girl from summer camp who has a knack for making others feel inferior. Perhaps she’ll be so exhausted that she dozes off on the bus, missing her stop entirely. What if she accidentally bumps into something and knocks her head, feeling that all-too-familiar embarrassment, but without the comfort of a parent or a favorite stuffed animal nearby?
She could, like many kids, start singing out loud without realizing it, only to be shushed by her teacher. Or she may overhear another child using hurtful words, realizing for the first time that some people use language as a weapon. Worst of all, she might learn about topics far beyond her years, like what certain adult acts mean, from an older kid on the bus. The thought of her facing judgment or ridicule sends a chill down my spine. And yes, I even have to confront the terrifying possibility of a more sinister danger, something that no parent should ever have to consider.
My therapist, who focuses on cognitive behavioral therapy, often reminds me to challenge these anxious thoughts. I have to ask myself, what am I truly afraid of? Am I worried that my daughter will be harmed by a stranger? Honestly, the statistics give me some comfort. I don’t genuinely believe that everything that can go wrong will; in fact, I expect she’ll be just fine.
So why does the thought of her first day fill me with dread? A big part of it is that she reminds me so much of myself. She has my looks, my quirks, and even my sweet tooth. She struggles with confidence, just as I did, and can become overwhelmed. I see my own distractions and irritabilities mirrored in her. She’s bright and spirited, yet stubbornly opinionated, convinced that her feelings are always justified.
If she’s like me in so many ways, it’s hard not to worry that she might also inherit my anxiety and sense of shame. I remember my own childhood vividly: the moments of feeling alone, the embarrassment from small mistakes, and the sleepless nights replaying insignificant events. How can I help her navigate through the potential pitfalls of her own experiences?
If my loving parents couldn’t shield me from my struggles, how can I possibly protect her? My journey with anxiety began long before I sought help at 32. My husband encouraged me to get therapy, pointing out that my constant fears were anything but normal. The anxiety was not just about big events; it was rooted in everyday occurrences that could trigger panic.
I fear for her as she embarks on this new adventure because kindergarten was where my own anxiety first took shape. But despite my worries, I also remember that I had a wonderful time in kindergarten, surrounded by friends, supportive teachers, and a loving family. I was a happy child even while grappling with my fears.
What if my daughter feels the same pangs of anxiety? My therapist suggests creating action plans for the “what-ifs.” If she falls asleep on the bus, the driver will call me. If she encounters mean girls, I will speak to her teacher. If she hears inappropriate topics, her father and I will have an open conversation with her.
Should she develop anxiety like mine, I will reassure her of my unconditional love. I’ll remind her that she’s capable and intelligent. I’ll share the tools I’ve learned in therapy to manage anxiety and shame, and if necessary, I’ll help her find her own path to healing. I want her to know that her unique brain, with all its wonderful quirks, will lead her to amazing experiences.
I’ll tell her that kindergarten will be filled with fun and learning, and I’ll eagerly await her return from her first big day.
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In summary, while the fears surrounding my daughter’s first day of kindergarten may loom large, I must remind myself of the joy and growth that await her. By preparing her with love and understanding, we can face the challenges together.