I don’t want to go. I tell them again and again. “NO!” I yell. I am firm, indignant. I use that Mama voice, the one that says I’m not messing around, damn it. I tell them that I’m staying put.
But they don’t listen. Or they don’t care.
Come, rest here a while, Jess. There, there, they say. No one will notice if you take a minute or two. And it’s so warm and cozy here in this rabbit hole. Come on in.
I don’t want to go.
But I peek over the edge.
Damn, it really looks cozy in there. And ooh, look, my friends are in there too. It’s like a party. But, well, ya know, the really sucky kind of party – like the one that your mom made you go to when you were a kid and you had to hang out with the great-aunt with the bad breath and the dress that smelled like moth balls and she made you walk around with her the whole time so that long-lost cousins you’d swear you’d never seen before could tousle your hair and make you hug them until you couldn’t breathe. Or you know, something like that.
I read the words. Four sentences buried in the summary of Brooke’s neuropsych report.
The gap between the demands placed on her and her abilities is growing, which in turn is having an emotional impact on Brooke. The difference between Brooke and her peers is increasing in size with regard to the social, cognitive, and academic domains. This often results in an anxious, irritable, and very frustrated child. Brooke is putting forth her best effort, but she is quickly overwhelmed by demands placed on her.
Four words in four sentences that so perfectly describe where my girl is right at this moment.
Four words in four sentences that so perfectly describes where I am right at this moment.
I stay above ground for as long as I can. I claw at the dirt and I kick back the rabbits and I plant my feet and then .. well ..
And then I get tired of fighting and I say screw it and I jump in head first and I watch the earth go hurtling by at a million miles an hour as I head down, down, down, down the rabbit hole.
And land with a thud.