Since the great Vacation Bible School thunderstorm trauma of 2011, Drew has been afraid of rain. Or really, tornadoes, being electrocuted, and us dying, as I recently learned in his therapy sessions.
Yes, my husband and I were all excited about Jesus and his free babysitting and now we're paying that back ten-fold in a therapy bill.
Since last year at exactly this time, his anxiety has increased to the point where it was affecting the other kids. No fun outings to the playground if a tiny gray cloud was in the sky, even with the sun shining so brightly he needed sunscreen. And way too many frantic trips home from the pool due to the remote possibility of lightning.
And that, combined with the 2am visits and monsters in The closet and "IF I HAVE 6 NIGHTLIGHTS MOMMY I'LL BE ABLE TO SLEEP ALONE," we decided to take him to see a therapist.
Of course this means we are now dipping into his college-slash-therapy fund, but here's hoping that since he's needing it now, he won't need it later.
On the bright side, it's an amazing investment, and one that's helping us parent him (and our other kids) in other ways.
And it's made me realize how freaking anxious I am. Which I sort of knew. But now I really know.
I shared the entire story about trying to find a therapist for my son and what she's been working with him on over at mom.me. And yes, I realize you pretty much have to give them your social security number to leave a comment there, so feel free to leave one here or drop me an email if you have any questions.
It's amazing how easy it can be to find someone to take care of your kid's weird rash, but when it comes to something equally as common, like childhood anxiety, it's much more challenging.