Sunday, 10 May 2015
I had a lovely few hours with Katie today. Almost two weeks ago she was started on an antidepressant to see if that would help reduce her anxiety. And yesterday I realized that I had to see my daughter as she really is, not how I want her to be.
I come by it honestly, this desire to see things as I want them to be and not how they are. My mother was the same way. Needless to say it leads to endless disappointment.
Since Katie turned eleven, almost twelve years ago, she has been physically attacking me. She pulls my hair, pinches me, scratches me, bites me, rips my clothes. The hair pulling is the worst. And every time she does this I am hurt both physically and emotionally because well, how can my baby girl hurt her own mother? My feeling are hurt, every single time, for almost twelve years.
Katie attacks me when she's upset, when she's anxious, when she's scared. It's understandable and a part of me does understand that this is her acting out her feelings, feelings that's she unable to understand or even put a name to. But another part of me is hurt and surprised. So why would something that has been happening for almost twelve years be a surprise to me? Good question.
It's a surprise because I don't want to believe that my beautiful daughter is dangerous. But she is dangerous and I refuse to accept this. It's funny because I always talk about accepting my daughter the way she is but I haven't really because if I had I would have been more careful around her, I would have understood how dangerous she is.
So today we visited and for the first time I accepted that Katie is dangerous, that I need to be careful around her. The big guy has known this since he first met Katie three and a half years ago but obviously I take a lot longer to catch on.
And today, I don't know if it was the new drug or my realistic understanding of how dangerous my daughter is, we had a good day. I didn't force things. I didn't make her be what I wanted her to be.
The hard part about writing this is also seeing myself as I am. Deluded. Unrealistic. Unaccepting. Bruised and battered from hitting my own head against a wall for years and years. I suck at accepting what is but I am learning.