Sunday, October 17, 2010
not in the literal sense
I've been worrying for more than a week. Sick in my stomach, can't think of anything else- but don't want to think of 'it' kind of worrying.
It was hinted that (potentially) The Girl Child had bipolar disorder. So many of the symptoms fit, stupid red-flag check list. A few weren't quite right, though. I've been going crazy waiting for, and dreading, the appointment- the one that I was expecting would doom us to a lifetime of medications and I don't know what else.
I've seen bipolar disorder, and it's so hard to watch. The spiraling depression, the loss of control. I didn't want that for The Girl- a burden too hard to bear.
Turns out it was nothing of the sort- thank heavens for professionals, is all I have to say. Abandonment fears, and separation anxiety. Totally treatable, and fixable, and disgustingly easy when compared to the alternative.
Turns out I'm not barmy after all, well not in the literal sense anyway.