I remember 13. I was so awkward and a lot of what I went through at that time stayed with me my whole life: social anxiety, popular brothers, few friends and sooo much tension between my mother and me. I clearly wasn’t my mom’s favorite child and it showed. I vowed my relationship with my own daughter would be different. She’s so much like me in so many ways, and dammit, she deserves better than the hot mess of insecurities that I became!

I thought everything was great. At least better than it had been. It’s true that Middle School was so much harder than we anticipated, but she seemed to finally have a handle on it. Her grades were good again, she was making new friends, and appeared to be happy. There were no real warning signs that something was wrong, except that I literally never saw her out of her favorite hoodie.

At first, I thought it was a teen thing. But after a while,I noticed it wasn’t just how often she wore it that had changed. How she wore it was different too. No more pulled up sleeves. In fact, she pulled the cuffs down so low that they covered most of her hands as well.

So one day as she sat  across from me at a table while we were holding hands (yes, we still hold hands sometimes), I firmly squeezed her hand with mine and shoved her sleeve up with the other before she could jerk her arm away.

And there it was. She had been cutting herself. As my heart sank to the bottom of my shoes, all I could seem to muster up to say was a feeble, “why?”

That was a month ago and I still haven’t gotten an answer.

Much of what I am feeling right now is entirely too much about me. This isn’t about me at all, but that’s what we do.

How did I miss that something was wrong? What did I do (or didn’t do) that lead her to this place? How much is therapy going to cost and should I really invest in that handbag when the bills are-a coming?

After hating myself for a good couple of days, I started hating my ex. At least I’m here! At least I show up every day and do my best for my daughter. I may make mistakes, but lack of trying isn’t one of them. Does she have abandonment-related daddy issues? Does his neglect make her feel like she needs to go to extremes to get his attention? Now this, and she is losing her shit over the idea of me telling him what’s going on.

He would, no doubt, blame me just because I AM the one who is raising her every day while he focuses on his second family. One stressed-out single parent can only spread herself so thin. Lord knows I’ve made mistakes. Am I the Guilty Parent here? But all this loathing for both of her parents isn’t going to help my girl.

“I want to go on anti-depressants” she declared a few days ago. 

Was not expecting that. Anxious, yes, but depressed?

“Why?” I eventually managed to utter out. “Are you depressed?”

No words. Just a shrug. 

I kind of feel like I did the day my husband announced there was “someone else.” Like the ground just dropped out from under me and my family as I knew it was over. I have that same sense of not knowing what’s going to happen next and feeling that it may be horrible. I did a piss poor job at hiding how scared I was when my husband skipped town. Is this why she’s anxious and depressed? It was so long ago, but could the divorce—or more importantly, how I handled it—be the reason she is hurting now?

Back to self-loathing again. 

I am completely in the dark, but know I need to take control of the dialogue in my head. It’s not my crisis, it’s my daughters and I don’t get to mess this one up. I will breathe and take the steps.  I’m not my mother and I won’t dismiss her feelings. I will show that I care, but cannot go into panic mode like I did when her father first left. I am scouring the reviews on local therapists who specialize in adolescent counseling. I’m reading “Untangled” and we are watching “Eighth Grade” together. I called the school administrators and her pediatrician. I’m making sure she is eating healthy, enrolled in team sports and taking her vitamins. I’m admitting that I don’t know what’s wrong and can’t fix it without getting help from every direction. I’m resisting the urge to roll her up in bubble wrap and lock her in her room. I am contemplating going through her journals, but that doesn’t seem right. I monitor her social media activity and ask her about sex and drugs. Right now, that’s all I can of think to do.

Any other suggestions?

A truth I have learned is that I would do just about anything for my children. I always said it, but this has been one of those times when I feel it in my bones. I will fight, sit quietly, seek answers, lean in to helplessness and question myself and others from every angle to keep my children safe. I’m not perfect, but lack of trying will never be the mistake I make with them.

The thing I am most grateful for today is the flexibility I have to drop everything and focus on my children when they need me. I make my own schedule. Buy what needs to be bought. Get them when they need to be picked up. Rearrange what needs to be rearranged. And make whatever in my life needs to happen at any particular moment a priority—kids or otherwise. I know a lot of women who don’t have that luxury. Hell, I remember how it was to be saddled with a long commute, limited funds, a demanding boss and an impossible schedule. What I have now was just a lofty goal then, and seemed oh so far away at the time. I thank God for this today.

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