The Kindergarten Catalyst

The biggest thing to happen of late is little Livvy starting Kindergarten. She was excited about it and wandered right on into the school, so the only thing to report on is that Ellen had a collection of meltdowns leading up to the day, and a final blowout after dropping her off. But now it's all just part of life. I'll admit to going through photos of baby Liv and then comparing them to current day Liv, and it's an wild and confusing thing to look back on. How does that just happen?

First birthday to first day of school.

I'll also admit to being very worried about whether or not she and Nick will morph into nervous, anxious little squirts. Liv nearly dispelled my concern about this for her with the way she pranced into a new school ready to follow the rules and delight all who pass her. I was not this way on my first day of school (all seventeen of them) and neither was Ellen, who I believe had to be wrestled out of the car on her first day of Kindergarten. Ellen and I both go on to develop anxiety of different brands. Hers; high in quantity but of a manageable magnitude. Mine: typically low in volume but of nearly unbearable intensity.  

I'm worried about this because my own panicy anxiety has been especially bad for that last three months or so, and it is deeply distressing. I also keep hearing about the increasing anxiety of younger folks that has been brought on by a collection of woes: social media, academic and extracurricular expectations, and a climate based fear due to the ongoing degradation of natural environments around the planet. Apparently young folks are very worried about their futures, and not just the "what will I be kind" but the "will there be clean drinking water" kind. I wasn't smart enough to have worries beyond my immediate surroundings when I was young, so the positive here, is that today's youth are much more plugged in and aware. That will probably be used for good, right?

But that's not really my point. I don't want Nick or Liv doomed to a life of debilitating fear but I don't know how you prevent that. And I would think that Ellen and I would be able to pick up on whether or not their "first day jitters" are the benign kind or the truly devastating kind, but I also know that adults miss things sometimes (because of course a kid doesn't want to go to school) and that there isn't a lot you can do about a kid that feels unnecessarily nervous about something. (Also, I'm not excluding Lee in parental ability to identify or empathize with an anxious kid. I'm just not familiar with his experience.) 
I thought back on being anxious in school or church or some other establishment that forced me to participate in things that didn't feel right, and short of being released from participation, I don't know what any adult could have done to make me feel better. Certainly they all tried, because they are lovely caring people. "Don't worry Laura, it's not a big deal." "Oh everyone thinks it's fun, you'll love it too." "It's just a short while. Over before you know it." But none of that ever calmed the internal storm, because it didn't matter what other people felt. I wasn't having the same experience. 

It may have helped for someone to spend the time (a lot of time) explaining all the details to me, so that I could understand what I was being thrown into. I like details. Kids aren't given a lot of information - they're just sent off into new buildings with eerie strangers until their parents comeback to get them. The kid is left to wonder what they will be doing in there. What's the flow of the day? How many people? Will there be any breaks? Should I bring food? What do I need to know before I go? Do we know who the instructor is? Are they kind? Will I get hurt? Can I leave if I need to? While I understand that there are lots of people (extraverts) who wouldn't be completely burdened by not knowing these things, I know that there are plenty like me that don't feel safe unless they understand what to expect. 

I see this in myself even as an adult. For example, I loved volunteering at the pet shelter. The people are nice. The animals are fun. I'm glad to help out. But every month they send an email to the volunteers, trying to recruit us for events around town. Adoption events, puppy yoga, fundraisers, etc. And I'd probably be glad to help - but they don't give you any details about it. How many animals will you be in charge of? Would I be the only person? Is it inside or outside? How long is the event? I have questions about food and schedules and the venues and the paperwork, and while I could call the shelter and get that information, it's easier to just not volunteer. 

The fun part of this is talking to Dad (and often Brett) about these things. They would have no questions about what they've signed up for. They would just show up on the day in whatever clothes they felt like wearing, with nothing but a wallet and keys in their pocket, and they wouldn't have an ounce of worry or concern on them. What is that? Dad could then find out he was underdressed, wouldn't be provided any food for eight hours, and was supposed to bring trash bags or something, and he'd just say, "Oh. Oops. How can I fix it?" Can you imagine? I've thought about it, and I'd be willing to pay a six figure sum to have that disposition.
In case you're also like Dad and don't understand any other possible reactions; Mom (for example) and I would be embarrassed as well as riddled with guilt about getting things wrong. We'd feel like idiotic burdens. We've inconvenienced everyone. They have to cover for our failure. We'd also be worried about our blood sugar getting too low and becoming woozy - which isn't the end of the world but then other people would have to stop what they were doing to care for us, and that's highly pride wounding, embarrassing, and inconvenient. Everyone will hate us. We should just go home.  

Yes, this is people pleasing - and it's a safety mechanism. We learn to do it at a young age to keep out of trouble. Not everyone is afflicted with it and it can range in severity but the point to take away is, it's an effort to stay safe. A therapist will tell you that it goes back to our tribal/nomadic days where not being amenable could mean exile (which would be death) or, something like having a visible meltdown episode would make people think you were possessed which would scare them, so they'd kill you. So, people pleasing is one of the first things we learn. I guess some of us have a harder time shaking it off. 

People pleasing, a one-off bad experience, a single unmet need; these are just three of hundreds of things that can cause an anxiety disorder.

How do you spare someone from such a life sentence?