I had the pleasure of having coffee with a friend I went to high school with today.  It was great catching up and just chatting about life, the past, the present – great medicine.  We had some time to discuss what the last year has held, and I told her, the scariest thing right now is letting my guard down.

It’s easy for things to be good, when you get to do everything you want, and not have obvious stressors or pressures.  It’s when life gets a little tough, that you see what is really happening for someone.

Tonight, life got a little tough.  The day seemed to be going great.  My daughter has been meeting up with old friends after her program, and catching up on things.  She gets dropped at my work, meets a friend, and they wander around town, maybe grab a slice of pizza together, and reconnect.  That happened today, and went well.

Along came a bump in the road, when we got some hard information that triggered a lot of emotion.  To make matters more difficult, her dad got laid off, and phoned her to discuss the existential connection to his career choices.  I knew it would be hard, but it was our discussion, or lack thereof that caught me off guard once again.

“Mom, did they call you about my meds today?”

“Nope – they called but said nothing about meds.”

“Really?  They said we would talk about increasing things at night so I sleep better.”

“You need to sleep better?  I thought you were sleeping fine?”

“Nope.  Things have been really hard lately.”

“Really?  You told me yesterday how good you’re feeling.”

“Can I have my meds tonight?”

Of course she could have her meds – we never go without them.  Things have been hard?  Once again, I’m caught by surprise.  No cutting for about 6 weeks.  No restricting, at least nothing major, for quite some time.  Weight is perfect, and so is BMI.  Drug tests clear.  Routine blood tests happening, but the argument has been, “Why should I be in a program when I feel great?”

More phone calls were made.  “I’m calling the cottage”.  “OK, anything I can do?”.  Again, I’m left on the side lines, watching while she struggles.  It’s hard hearing your child cry and having them pull away.  All I want is to wrap my arms around her and tell her it’s going to be ok.  I’m not leaving.  Things will be fine.  We’ll get through it.

Tomorrow is another day.  “Mom, I need to talk to someone tomorrow.  I need to see someone tomorrow.” “Yes, I understand.  We’ll make it happen”.  I gave her a hug and a kiss goodnight, and told her it will be alright.  This is all part of her journey – and it’s been a tough one.

As parents, we need to remember not to take this stuff personally.  Sometimes being a silent but steady bystander is what they need.  There are plenty of resources out there to help – and they’ll use what they need, but it isn’t just anyone that can be there through thick and thin – no matter what.

Take care of yourself.  Talk to a friend, go for a coffee, write a blog, maybe even get some counseling yourself.  Do what you can to keep yourself strong, so you can be the steady rock your child needs in the hard times