Due to her, I am discussing weeping. I am not discussing weeping due to the loss of a dear one or weeping during a melancholic scene in a film. I shed tears. I vowed to never let her witness me engage in such an act, but I recently performed it in the presence of my daughter.
My 8-year-old daughter has ADHD, which also comes with many challenges. While she has many advantages, such as the ability to think outside the box, completing her homework has always been a challenge for her over the past three years since she was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.
My daughter’s school has summer requirements for its students. Every day, my daughter must complete a minimum of 20 minutes of online math program and 30 minutes of reading. It is nearly impossible for her to handle extra work like a child, but she can barely make it through the basic requirements. Additionally, there are other recommendations.
What exactly happened on the day she saw me cry? She is still struggling with math, and she can’t see the relationships and patterns in numbers like an average person. She has always been known to be very smart. When she has difficulty with an assignment, she feels a tremendous amount of anger and frustration, and she can’t take them away. These things don’t help her. I make sure to reward her with screen time after her assignments, and I let her choose the order of her assignments. She takes breaks to make sure she is not overwhelmed. I always try my best to make homework easier for her.
I was trying to explain the math problem to her in a different way, as she had thought of it. I was sitting there with a piece of paper and a pencil, trying to better understand her. I was also trying to encourage and help her, so I moved to the stool next to her. She was becoming increasingly frustrated and was having a particularly hard time with the math problem. I let her use my laptop to work on her math program, and we were both sitting on stools in the kitchen.
I was unable to do anything to help her, as she was having a full-blown meltdown in the kitchen. She wasn’t even on her stool anymore, she was on the floor. I wasn’t listening to her. It didn’t matter. I was doing my best to remain collected and calm, and I was biting my tongue.
Did I make the wrong decision? She’s having a difficult time with her homework, but she’s also gaining weight. Did I make the wrong decision? She’s having a difficult time with her weight gain, but she’s also gaining weight. Did I make the wrong decision? I decided to give her a break from her ADHD medication this summer, thinking about the fact that her doctor said it might help her. Did I do nothing to help her? Did I do nothing there? Did I do nothing there? Did I do nothing? She said that I wasn’t helping. Was I really doing nothing? Was I really doing nothing there? Was I really doing nothing there? Was I really doing nothing? She said that I wasn’t helping. Was I really doing nothing? Was I really doing nothing there? Was I really doing nothing there? Was I really doing nothing?
Despairing and defeated, I experienced a sense of defeat. Lying on the ground, her only desire was to lash out and wail. However, she had no inclination to do so either. Hence, I instructed her to retreat to her Tranquility Space and assured her that we would return to the math problem at a later time, acknowledging the impossibility of her being able to proceed with the task at hand. While all of these thoughts occupied my mind, my daughter remained in the midst of a meltdown.
What would she do to the world? If I knew that my own mother would abandon me and feel more fear, what would she do? But every time I thought about becoming my daughter’s mother, I was scared. I didn’t know how to help my daughter, and the fact that I was terrified made me feel even more scared. The worst part of it all was feeling scared.
In that moment, we both cried tears of anger, frustration, and sadness. I embraced her and said, “Mommy, I’m sorry,” in a voice filled with sadness. She held me and got up from the floor, asking me how to help. Trembling with the truth, I replied, “I don’t know.” Her entire demeanor changed as she asked me why I was crying. Once she saw tears streaming down my face, she let me cry and for the first time, let me see her cry too. So, I sat there and let my emotions take over me.
I realized how much she truly loves me and wants the best for me, but I can’t help but feel frustrated by her resistance to accepting help. It’s equally frustrating to see how much her words and actions affect others. This is the first time I’ve seen my daughter cry, and I’m afraid to do something that might make her cry again.
My only wish is that she is acquiring the skills to control her intense emotions and thoughts. She understands the importance of taking breaks when she starts to feel enraged or irritated. Since that day, she has not experienced a single outburst while doing her homework. She successfully completed the entire assignment. I provided assistance with her math problem, and after further discussion, she regained her composure and returned to her seat.