COMMUNICATION
The most important thing about communicate is hearing what i s n ‘ t said. -Peter Drucker
My daughter’s eyes gloss over, like she’s looking at a completely black future that she scribbled out after her nightmares became her reality.
She tugs at her sleeves, shirts, and pants, nervous about some unforeseen big-bad that is destined, or “fated” as she writes, to come after her with a vengeance for the evil she’s committed in her sleep.
I watch her deteriorate, and carry her from professional to professional, working hard to get her the help that she needs and deserves, because, what she doesn’t realize is that she is truly remarkable for her age.
She loves and she sees and she helps like no teenager her age should, but yet she is there for her friends as their parents should be there for them, and religiously she devotes her time to their cause, but it comes at the cost of herself.
My daughter, she is broken.
And I, her mother, don’t know how to fix her.
We talk, oh do we talk, and she’s as honest as one can be with me, and I only know this because the things she says makes my skin crawl and make my heart collapse in on itself; no child would tell their mother these things willingly like this.
It does make me wonder, though, is it worse than she lets on?
I check her body for marks – there none; I test her for drugs randomly – she uses none; and I even use a breathalyzer when she’s been out with friends – but she doesn’t drink either; I don’t know how she copes with all of this suffering but I am afraid that something worse may be lurking in the shadows.
She talks to the therapists and the doctors and her friends, it’s almost like the talking never ends; her communication is strong and clear; so why does it feel like nobody can hear?
Maybe it’s because she’s the one crying for help…?
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