the anxiety monster

My heart breaks just a little for my son. He battles demon every day that only he can see and no one else can truly help him with. It whispers to him, sometimes I think telling him only the scariest possible outcomes can be had from any situation. this monster exists only in his mind of course, but its as real to him as the stars at night are to everyone else. His anxiety monster doesn't roar or gnash teeth, its almost silent, telling to be fearful, that he's just not good enough and he's not capable of handling anything. He withdrawals when the monster whispers, hiding behind a mask of reserved silence, finding comfort and escapism in video games and beloved stuffed animals. No child should have to grow up feeling this way. No one should have to face a new day battling against uncertainty and a lack of self worth. I think back to how his face glows when he does something he's proud of. If you could plug him in he'd light a room. But those moments are fleeting. Soon enough, he's being left behind or ignored by those outside the family and the vicious cycle begins again. I find myself asking if I feed into this. I comfort, I reassure and help him think through things. And I truly helping or am I a crutch he will never outgrow? Change, even a seemingly small change is so very hard for him. Something like starting a new school year causes weeks of stress and gives the monster entirely too much fuel to grow with. The whispers have such credence to him. "What if no one likes you?" "What if you have no friends?" "What if the bus driver yells?" These are not hurdles a 5th grader should have to cross, as they had been long ago conquered and defeated. I watch his friends, and see none of this. They carry with them their armor, the unshakable sense that the world is safe and predictable and bad things exist only on the nightly news. Pat has none of that. He knows how suddenly this world can shift. He faces the smaller monster we all do, armed only with a much larger monster that reminds him his own father cast him aside. I cannot understand his fear, but I hurt for it just the same. I cannot fight this monster for him. I hand him small weapons I have found useful in the past in fighting some of my own demons. Some he uses, some are to unwieldy for him to manage. My heart breaks just a little as he sleeps because only in that place is the monster truly silent. Sleep eludes him frequently as the monsters whispers become more urgent, and time presses closer. And there is little I can do. That is the hardest part of all. He needs to find his own way to silence him once and for all. I hand him weapons, psychiatrists and therapists and they do shore up his armor, but at the end of the day, it is only him who can fight this. I can only hope its enough. I can't make him see himself as others do, as a funny spirited intelligent boy with a knack for technology and a passion for swimming. They see awkward. They see shy. They see lazy and disorganized and weird. Most people never see he is none of these things. They see what the anxiety monster wants them too. Perhaps we will be able to silence him some day, once and for all. I dream of that, for him to see himself as I do, smart, resilient and perfect. Its time for you to go now monster, were done with you here.