Overemotional mother

I had a very emotional day yesterday. Yes, the heading refers to me :)

My daughter went to a museum for several hours with her father and grandfather, so I had some much-needed time on my own. I felt stir-crazy, but didn't know where I wanted to go. I had a strong urge to do something, but I wasn't sure what. I had plenty of ideas about what to do, but had a very hard time deciding upon one course of action. I had a strong urge to buy a bunch of sock yarn at JoAnn with coupons, which is an idea implanted in my brain by the same woman who suggested the 800 page knitting book. However, I have lots of supplies for unfinished projects, so getting something new to learn seemed . . . unnecessary.

In the end, I decided to do some sewing and listen to an audio book on my iPod. I chose the latest Cahills vs Vespers book (the follow-up series to the 39 Clues books). I had heard it already, but it sounded better than my other options and I wanted an escape from my roundabout thoughts, as they weren't getting me anywhere. At the beginning of the first chapter, I found myself bursting into sobs as Att, the 11-yr-old college freshman, is going over this thoughts while being held captive. It just hit me. I even had to take breaks from the sewing so that I didn't get my fingers in there while trying to aim through the tears.

Rationally, I know that it is unlikely that my daughter will be an 11-year-old college freshman. I also don't expect her to end up in a deadly race and clue hunt. These are books, and further, the parents passed it on to their kids, so I would know before my daughter would. However, the emotions of the kids captured my attention before my daughter was assessed, so before I knew that she was gifted, let alone highly gifted. . . The authors describe the kids' emotions in a way I find to be realistic and probable. They are lonely. They have a hard time relating to people their own age because their experiences and knowledge base is so different than other kids. Relating to adults, while intellectually similar in some cases, is also not a peer relationship. They are younger and have fewer experiences, less chronological and emotional maturity . . . all the things that come with age.

When my daughter is with me, which is almost all the time, I don't feel the freedom to mourn the loss of my hopes for her. In groups of parents with other gifted kids, I feel like my approach to it is different than most. While some are more excited as the IQ measurements go up, my heart sinks the farther it gets from average. I would love slightly above average for my daughter, honestly. I would prefer average to what she has, although many will not understand that. The truth of the matter is that I want my daughter to be happy and satisfied in her relationships. The more like the average person she is, the more opportunities she has to relate closely and deeply with people, in my opinion. I am still grieving the loss of that hope. What's more, I still believe that anyone who can read their mail and balance their checkbook (or however they manage their finances) is just fine. Beyond that, happiness is what counts.

My daughter is not what I thought would give her the best chance for happiness. However, I can still do my best to provide her best chance of happiness exactly where she's at. That is the best thing I can think of to actively support and love her, and exactly what I am trying to do. What's more, we will continue to enforce the idea that we are all equal in God's eyes and that her IQ score (which she doesn't know) makes her no better or worse than anyone else . . . in any category. She is different than the average, and having time with people like ourselves is good. It helps our self-esteem, our self-confidence, and more. For that reason, we have joined a special interest homeschool group. It meets once a week, and my daughter feels more at home there than other places. Just last week, one of the administrators found me and commented on what a confident girl I have. I almost cried (thus, the title of this post is still pertinent). She looked surprised at my expression, and I simply said, "You wouldn't have said that two months ago." She looked even more surprised at that and said, "I love stories like that. Tell me more."

While I'm certain I will continue to be an overemotional mother, I am doing my best to give my daughter emotional stability in her own life. It's so encouraging to have affirmation from others that it is going in the right direction. Still trying not to cry, I'll sign off for now . . .