jeudi, mars 03, 2011
It's happened so many times that I should be used to it by now. Whether it's food, or clothes, books, or music, I make my offering -- hoping that it will be acceptable, will alleviate the wrath of this angry goddess, with her red-tinted hair and deep blue eyes.
Far more often than not, she rejects my gift, an edge of adolescent contempt in her voice.
And I take a firm grip on my lower lip, willing myself not to return flames with flames -- sometimes.
My daughter, all of 15, lives close to the edge.
Gifted with superior intellect, but grappling with a lagging memory and lack of focus, she is capable of racking up high test scores while "forgetting" to do her homework. Homework detention has become an ongoing fact of life in our household.
She's a self-avowed atheist in a family of believers, won't ever borrow her mom's "girly" clothes, and has allied herself with the "rage rock" followers of the Insane Clown Posse. Then there are a succession of "boyfriends" (we won't allow her to date yet).
With the exception of a few friends who are either childless or have sons, I rarely talk about her challenges. Too many times, I have had other mothers either suggest that somehow I am responsible for her travails, or sleekly congratulate themselves that their own daughters are doing just fine in school, thank you for asking.
When I'm not royally pissed by her tantrums, my heart breaks for this child, with so many gifts, who cannot yet see her own inner beauty. Lately she has been leaving a succession of emails, notes and computer messages around the house -- not meant for me, but not exorcised, either.
She is pleading, she is hurt, she is worried she's going to lose.
My vigilance has not protected her from risky behavior. My love and tenderness hasn't touched her spirit, seeking affirmation solely from her friends. Too often, I lose my temper. But I stay the course.
It seems I cannot do anything else.