As my daughter gears up for her first day of kindergarten, my mind races through a whirlwind of potential disasters. She might encounter that bossy girl from her summer camp who always seems to steal the spotlight and make others feel small. She could be so worn out from the excitement that she dozes off on the bus and misses her stop entirely.
What if she accidentally bumps her head on a cabinet corner and cries, feeling a wave of embarrassment? At school, there’s no cozy corner to retreat to, no comforting hug from me, and no plush giraffe to hold. She might, like I did at her age, start singing aloud and be shushed by the teacher. Imagine her overhearing a classmate call someone “fat,” and for the first time, grasping the sting of such words as insults.
Worse yet, she could hear something inappropriate from an older student on the bus, completely unaware of what it means. She may face judgment, ridicule, or bullying. And, in the darkest corners of my thoughts, I fear the unthinkable—a violent act in what should be a safe haven for her learning.
My therapist, who champions cognitive behavioral therapy, encourages me to confront these anxious thoughts. What do I genuinely believe? Am I truly convinced that a psychopath will harm her? No, the statistics provide comfort. Do I think that every possible mishap will occur? No, I believe she will be just fine.
Yet, the root of my fear lies in my own experiences. She embodies so much of me—physically, emotionally, and behaviorally. She shares my sweet tooth, my distractions, and my struggles to keep pace with others. She is bright, opinionated, and just like me, convinced of her own justified feelings. If she mirrors me in so many ways, why wouldn’t she inherit my anxiety, my crippling sense of shame?
I can still recall the moments that filled me with dread in elementary school—humming a tune and being told to be quiet, mispronouncing a word and hearing laughter, or feeling lost amidst my classmates. Those memories linger, and I worry about her feeling the same isolation.
How can I protect her from sleepless nights spent replaying the day, regretting missed opportunities? My parents, though loving, couldn’t shield me from my anxiety. If they struggled to help, how can I do better for her?
After years of battling my own anxiety, I eventually sought therapy at 32, encouraged by my husband. He pointed out that it wasn’t normal for every clap of thunder to send me into a panic about my children’s safety.
I fear for her because I see myself in her. I remember kindergarten fondly, filled with joy, yet anxiety loomed in the background. My daughter shines with happiness, but what if she’s also burdened with anxiety?
My therapist suggests creating action plans for my fears. If she falls asleep on the bus, the driver will reach out to me. If she encounters unkindness, I’ll engage with her teacher. If she hears about topics too mature for her age, her father and I will have open discussions.
If my daughter does struggle with anxiety like I once did, I will reassure her of my love and support. I will remind her of her strength and intelligence. I’ll share the skills I’ve learned in therapy and, if needed, seek professional help for her. I want her to know that her unique brain, with all its quirks, is capable of wonderful things.
I’ll tell her that kindergarten is an exciting adventure where she will learn and grow. I look forward to welcoming her home at the end of her first day, eager to hear about all her experiences.
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In summary, as I prepare my daughter for her first day of kindergarten, I grapple with my own fears and anxieties while focusing on supporting her. With open communication, love, and the right tools, I hope to guide her through this important milestone.
Keyphrase: kindergarten anxieties
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