In September of 2016, right after my daughter started Kindergarten, I took her to Rally to join Girl Scouts. I signed her up because as a former girl scout, I know the value of the organization. I, myself, hated certain aspects of it, but I saw the benefit for my daughter. She wanted to go camping the day she started. The thing I hated most about it. But she couldn’t go as a Daisy, so I had plenty of time adjust to the idea or make friends with one of the other mothers and convince them to step in for me.
I can remember sitting at the table with what would be her troop leader and the other parents and putting on this front. Wearing the face of someone who knew what she was doing. You’ve seen those commercials about bipolar depression where the person is carrying around the smiley face church fan mask. That is what I was doing. I was there smiling and enjoying their company. I was carrying myself as they did, with all the confidence that I had this parenting thing down and that I was okay.
See what these women didn’t know was that as I was an absolute mess at the time. I was signing my daughter up for Girl Scouts, hoping that I might be able to volunteer and maybe in a year or two, be organized and a good enough parent to become a troop leader, but inside, I was twisted, emotional, and lower than low. No one knew at the time that I was 18 months removed from my hospital stay after attempting suicide, 3 months post job loss (my second in a one year span), and I was functionally homeless. I had just lost my apartment because I wasn’t working. I had moved both of my children in with my dad for the start of school, and I had moved home with my mom, sister, brother in law, brother, nieces, and nephew. Yes, all of us in small townhouse. I was blessed to not have my children living there with me. Something I am forever grateful for. What I hadn’t told anyone at the time was that I had also just discovered that my then boyfriend had not been faithful to me because I was already so very fragile, I wanted to hold on to him. They didn’t know that in that moment, I had, in my mind, failed as a parent. I had allowed my illness to take everything from me, including my confidence in my ability to be a good parent to my children. Less than 30 days prior to signing my baby girl up for scouting, I had abdicated my responsibilities as a parent to the woman I grew up believing had ruined by mother. I had failed so miserably that I didn’t have a place for them to lay their heads at night. What’s worse is that I failed at protecting them from the toxicity that my family still fights through today. I, all by myself, in 10 years, had failed the two most important people in my life. Don’t worry, this post isn’t about how my anxiety and depression ruined my life. It’s more about the fact live can make you bitter, lonely, and defeated, but in the same way, show you how loved, surrounded, and strong you are.
When I signed my daughter up for girl scouts, I knew that she would learn to be a more confident, and independent little girl. I also knew that she would get to explore nature, and all the things that make me cringe with someone else that might share her love of it. I knew that she would learn to run a business through cookie sales, and about how to be a great citizen of this earth. I knew this because I was a scout and I learned a lot of what I know from being one. I wanted that for her. I also wanted her to have more than just me and the women in my family as an influence, just in case. Because at the time, I didn’t really know if my last attempt would be my last attempt. I knew my daughter needed more than just me to mold her into what God would need for her to be. What I didn’t know at the time was how her being a girl scout would help me heal, to belong, to regain my own confidence, to learn to trust, and also to hold me accountable as her mom.
You see there are three women that unknowingly spoke life back into me. They helped me to understand that my daughter was no different than her peers in her defiance, her attitude, her mood swings, and even in her “lack” of friends. You see I was often told that my daughter was difficult to get a long with, sometimes even hard to love. I took that personally, somehow I had given birth to and raised a six year old misfit. But one day, after we had missed a few meetings, I got a message on Whatsapp, from our assistant troop leader. She asked how we were and told me how much she missed seeing my daughter’s face in the meetings. I cried. No one other than my mother and sister had ever reached out because they missed my child. You don’t miss kids you don’t like. We went on an outing one weekend and snapped a few photos from it. One of them was of my baby girl and she was laughing, smiling from ear to ear and enjoying her time with the troop. One of the comments posted in FaceBook groups said, “Carefree …” my daughter’s name. I cried again. You see this same person, interacted with my little one at school under different circumstances so I am sure she had seen her a little frustrated possibly, maybe a little more reserved. So seeing my child happy meant something to her. Maybe not the world to her, but enough for her to comment. What she didn’t know was that for year I had worried that I and my illness would cause my babies to be withdrawn, quiet, too reserved, anti-social, and worst of all like me. She, overall a stranger to us and our unique circumstance, and with a simple comment, planted a seed that I might not be ruining the “things” I loved the most.
These three women not only treated my daughter as they would their own, but they filled in when I couldn’t be there. We live in an extremely diverse area of town, however, I am always a little worried about my daughter not seeing women of color and other little girls like her in her daily life (other than family). We got lucky that she joined her daisy troop with another African-American girl, which also meant being around her mother. Before the two were BFFs and were always pairing themselves off. I was still a little anti-social, but eventually began to have actual conversations with her mother. Overtime, they decided to leave the troop, at which time, we forged a personal friendship that I often thank God for. Throughout our conversations, I came to know her story of motherhood, which is something to be marveled. Because of her, I finally got over my anxiety of driving with other adults and children in the car with me as we made a 45 minute drive together for scouting event. To this day, having left the troop about 2 years ago, we still speak on a regular basis and she has become a very dear friend. As she shares her stories with me about parenthood, and even adulthood, I came to know that I am not so different from the people I use to look at and feel inferior too. I have been made to feel like I am the sum of every mistake I have made since birth. She never saw me that way, she didn’t know all the mistakes I made. As she became more comfortable with me, and shared her story, I shared mine. I told her about my mistakes, explained at length how depression and anxiety changed everything in my life, and she still called me. She still checked on me, asked me to lunch, requested play dates, and remains my friend. She never treated me as though I was damaged or broken. She embraces me and enjoys spending time with me and my children.
I want to make sure that I acknowledge the greatness that is her troop leader for the last four years. She has two daughters of her own and leads both of their troops. She keeps up with paperwork, who has completed what badge, all of their names, their parent’s names and while working her own full-time job and managing a home. She is an amazing women that loves nature, and crafts. She is creative, intelligent, dedicated, hard working, and did I mention she is organized. All the things I wish I was a tiny bit better at. I get tired thinking of all that she manages in the same 24 hours a day we all get. She enjoys all the things that my daughter enjoys that I hate. Without her, camping would be a no go. However, there is one camping trip a year, that I have no issue going on, and I enjoy it so much more because I get some time around her, not having to run a meeting, loving on her daughters and her scouts all at the same time. We are very different, but so much alike. Despite knowing that little things slip my mind, she never complains, she just sends me the reminder I need especially when it is something she knows my daughter would enjoy. She always seems to have my kid’s spot reserved in the carpool for her without me having to ask. She trusts me with a badge project each year, and allowed me to help the troop earn their my best self badge last year. I got to speak to my daughter’s troop about mental health at a level they could understand. Something I didn’t hear about until I was already diagnosed with anxiety. She allowed me to do something for other little girls that I hope I do as a parent: Plant the seed that it is okay to feel things. Hopefully, I also planted the seed that it is okay to talk to adults about how you feel as a kid. Keep in mind, I am often told that my daughter has “issues”, but her troop leader has only ever referred to it as my daughter being her. She knows when she has had enough and will give her a break from whatever it is. When I come to her about whether my daughter was on her best behavior, she reassures me that my child is no different, worse or better behaved, moody, or pleasant than many of the other girls. I know my child, and I understand how she can be. I appreciate that the troop leader that I trust her with for overnight camping trips, meetings, and as a great influence in her life, doesn’t see her or what makes her unique as a burden or problem. Something every child needs to know and feel from every adult they are with. I can remember being on an outing and my daughter got upset with me. In my typical way, as my child stomped away, I said to myself, louder than I thought, “she’s mad at me again”. Her troop leader heard me, and said (not her exact words, but close enough), “And she’ll get over it.” She didn’t know then, and probably not even now, but that relieved so much pressure. I am referring to years of pressure dating back to the day I found out I was pregnant with my first child (almost 3 years older than my daughter). In that statement, I was freed of having to be perfect, free of having to raise children that would be perfect in the “world’s” eyes. In that moment I didn’t have to care if they were mad at me for doing what I though was best. I didn’t have to feel guilty for making mistakes and that parenting when done right is still a learning experience for the parent as well as the child.
I am grateful for these three women. I am grateful for girl scouts. As a child, I made lifelong connections with girls that are now women I am inspired, supported and loved by and I them. As an adult, I have connected with women who have shown me how to be a better mother to my daughter, and helped me to forgive myself and just be better overall.
