Teenage wasteland

I think one of the hardest things about being a parent sharing the same genetic difference as your children is watching them experience the same things as you did as a teen, remembering how hard and hurtful it was and feeling powerless to "save" them from it.

I've come to the conclusion that childhood/teenage friendships can be as fragile as gossamer thread as well as being wonderful and fun. When it's all good you feel good and strong and happy, but when things are in their fragile, changeable state you feel alone, as if the whole world is against you, worthless, unloveable.

For the first three years of her Secondary School life, my youngest daughter has enjoyed a happy friendship with another girl she met in Year 7. Both of them share the same name but they've developed pseudonyms for each other - Bailey and Riley. I forget who is who.

Unfortunately this year, their friendship has been tested with my daughter having to have a good part of first and second term off due to her spinal surgery. Then when she did return to school it was for half days. It's only been in this final term has she been able to go full time.

In the natural progression of things, the other G has had to develop other friendships in my G's absence. These friendships have now replaced the one she had with my G and now she's feeling left out as her friend now chooses to spend her free time with the new friends in an area of the school grounds that is inaccessible to my G. Naturally my G is dreadfully hurt and spends her days at school alone, trying not to look alone by looking busy and purposeful, as though she has somewhere to go and something important to do.

I remember those days. I hated those days. They were the loneliest days of my life. It's hard being in an environment where being part of the crowd and feeling like you belong is of utmost importance and you feel as though you are invisible or, even worse, an outcast. It wasn't until I was in Year 11 that I found a friend who stuck around, who bonded with me just as much as I bonded with them. Alas, we drifted apart as adults.

G and I have talked about everything. I have listened to her hurt and wanted to be able to help in some way, to do something, to make it all better. I also have to remember that I am only getting my daughter's side of the story and, although it is valid, it doesn't make up the whole truth. I have to remember that, as painful as it is, this is the way it has been for teenagers since the beginning of time and my daughter's experiences are shared by billions of other teens - disabled or otherwise - all around the world.

G is a reader and gains inspiration and hope from others who have gone before her. Yesterday she told me that she "had a crap day" but found this little gem from one of her literary heroes:

"Getting socially outcast can be the best and most informative thing that can ever happen to you because you have to learn who you are separate from the pack."
- Ezra Miller

Reading this encouraged her. This experience has opened the doors for many deep conversations between the two of us, and with her siblings. We talk about the value of learning about who you are, learning what you like and what you don't, what your passions are, what your goals are, learning that you are OK on your own. Being OK with being alone but not lonely.

Today she said to me, "When I find a boy, I want him to make me feel pretty before he makes me feel sexy." So I told her that the most important thing was to know that she was pretty without someone telling her that she was. After telling her that though I then went on to tell her she was beautiful, inside and out - because she is. Very much so.

I think my girl is on the right track. She'll be ok.