There is someone new living just down the hall from me. I used to know the person who occupied that room and even though this new inhabitant resembles her physically, I am certain it isn't the same girl.
The girl who used to live there was happy more often than not and her smile would always light up the room. She was friendly, vibrant and eager to connect with those around her. Hugs were given freely and she always left you feeling better than you felt before you saw her. What a gift.
The current occupant of that room doesn't smile much and has little desire to interact with those around her. She seems distant and isn't very easy to get to know. She also seems a little sad most of the time. And that makes me sad, too.
But I can't 'fix' it. And that breaks this mother's heart.
However, I'm not just sad. I'm also angry at some of the attitude. I'm irritated that the things we allow her to have/do/enjoy have become things to which she now feels entitled as opposed to privileges she should appreciate. This can and will be corrected. I am annoyed that it has come to this because, of course, this makes me the bad guy. But I guess all parents are bad guys from time to time. I'll stop whining about it now.
I know that there are other mothers out there going through the same kind of heartache/aggravation/desperation. I've discussed it with some and read blog posts about it from others. So I've been thinking about pointing out this problem to the medical community. I mean after all, there is HRT for women who have had hysterectomies. Why not some sort of hormone therapy for pubescent girls? P(ubescent) H(ormone) T(herapy). You know, something to transition them more gently from sweet, loving, mommy-adoring little tots to less dependent young ladies who are capable of realizing that they still need their moms.
A 'miracle drug' of sorts.
Yeah, that's the ticket.
But I know that creating new drugs and going through clinical trials and all that takes time. Lots of time. So until PHT is perfected, I guess I'm stuck trying to muddle my way through this just like every other mother of a pre-teen/teen out there. Patience is the key. I keep telling myself that.
P. A. T. I. E. N. C. E.
God, please grant me some more of it.