One of my students came after school today to talk to me about her piece for the next creative writing class. It was about her bulemia, and I wanted to hug her and cry throughout the whole conference. I had to settle for gentle support and a calm voice. It was hard.

Robin, I'm so sorry. That's a lot to deal with.

If it's okay with you Robin, they'll be in my prayers. I hope this rehab is sticky for her. She has so much going for her, and is so lucky to have family that caught onto her illness, before it was too late.

Cindy, that would be lovely.

How are you feeling, Robin?

I'm worried and don't like being so far away. I am so glad she is getting treatment, but I feel bad for my brother--the two hour ride to the place on Thursday is going to be hellish. She's like her dad, very smart, very intense, very competitive but also very vulnerable, so it's gotta be hard on both of them.

Robin, I'm glad she's getting treatment. Much ~ma headed their way.

Robin, best wishes for your niece and her family. I know what it's like to be far away from someone with that sort of problem and it's painful to not be able to be right there with them. Just getting her into rehab is a big step towards recovery and I hope it works out for them.

And WRT the stuff I was posting about earlier, I really am getting better about the whole guilt/worry issue. I just backslid a little. Which happens, I've been given to understand. See, I'm working on the perfectionism thing, too.

I had an epiphany about a month ago WRT these issues and some others that I've been dealing with. It came, of all things, while I was reading a case study in a sort of psych/self-help book while killing time in a bookstore between appointments. In it, the therapist told a woman to stop calling herself a freak, because she was actually normal--her responses were a normal and logical product of her background.

While I'm not dealing with even a fraction of what this woman was, I think that was the single most helpful and enlightening thing I'd read in years. Which is probably just a case of it being in the right place at the right time, but still. I'd been treating my anxiety issues and all the stuff I don't talk about here as evidence that I was a freak, and loathing all those aspects of my character. But once I decided I was normal, things started to turn around. When my motives for changing were so that I could be happier, kinder to myself, and a better friend to others, I did a much better job when I was trying to change so I wouldn't be such a loathsome freak anymore.

So. I'm naturally anxious and perfectionistic, and happened to spend the first quarter century of my life in environments that only enhanced that. Which means I'm normal. But getting better, because there's no reason a normal person can't grow and learn to be happier and better balanced.

Robin, I'm glad she's getting the help she needs.

Robin, I'm glad she's getting help.

I'm not a parent, Susan, but I think that the SAHM who spends all her time focused on her children is largely a myth. My mother was a classic, '50s, June Cleaver mother. She also made all of our clothes, made curtains, upholstered furniture and cooked every meal without the aid of mixes or takeout. My sister was born with cerebral palsy and epilepsy when I was 2 1/2. My father didn't do anything at home except yardwork. Exactly how much one-on-one interaction do you think I got? My mother read to me and played with me, but I also spent many hours in a playpen and many hours reading by myself. I was very late to walk and very early to read.