"I Just Don't Want to Be in this World"

"I just don't want to be in this world."

Hard words to hear your six year old say to you. How do you even reply to that? A six year old should never have those thoughts. As I tucked Jacob in bed again, I went through every reason why he should love this world. Everything that is good about this world. And everyone who loves him in this world.

I then went on with tears rolling down my face, telling my son everything that was good about HIM, and all the wonderful qualities he possesses. He really is an incredible kid. I know everyone thinks that of their own children, but Jacob really is special. Aside from his anxiety, he is a true joy. He's funny, creative, and so smart it amazes me. When his anxiety is at bay, that's when he really shines.

It's a helpless feeling when each night your child is terrified by things that you can't even comprehend yourself. Last night he had two things bothering him. He couldn't stop thinking about the sounds that a computer game at school had made earlier in the day. And balls rolling down our hill. Balls rolling down the hill are an every night worry. "Why couldn't the street just be made of grass?" he wondered his eyes so heavy with sleep wanting nothing more than his brain to stop so they could rest. "That would be an easy solution."

But was that what was really bothering him?

As I laid in bed with him trying to calm him listening to him weep, he told me about recess that day. "I wasn't very good today, Mommy."

"What does that mean, Jacob?" I asked. Had he yelled at a classmate? Had he gotten upset at school? There wasn't a note sent home. There was no phone call.

"I lost in soccer."

"Jacob, honey, that's no big deal," I said relieved that's all it was, but not understanding the real problem.

"No, Mommy. I was on the team all by myself and I lost 12 to 1."

"But why were you on a team all by yourself? You can't play on a team alone," I inquired.

"There were three kids on the other team, and just me on my team. No one wanted to be on my team. And it was just too hard, I couldn't do it."

Deep down is THIS what was really bothering my son tonight and not the computer noises or rolling balls? All the times that I watch my son at recess play soccer and think he is being included, is he really being pushed aside? We talked about what he could do next time. How he could handle it. And how the teams needed to be even. Inside I was fuming. How dare these other kids exclude my son. It's not that he stinks at soccer. He is actually quite athletic. And where were the teachers? Oh, yes, the mama bear was coming out in me.

Thankfully after some snuggling time, Jacob was able to settle down and sleep. Me, that was a different story. I couldn't stop thinking about what Jacob had said.

Six year old's should be thinking about Spongebob. They should be counting the days to summer vacation. They should be carefree and worry free. They shouldn't be so consumed with fear and worry that they wish not to be in this world. It terrifies me that at age six, Jacob already thinks being somewhere else is better than dealing with his pain. If he's thinking this at six, what will he be thinking at eleven, sixteen, thirty? I wish this world was easier for my son. I wish it was a world that readily accepted him.  It was hard for me to shake. Sleep did not come easy, and I lent my dreams to a better world for my son.

Each morning when Jacob wakes, it's as if the previous night hadn't occurred. When he woke this morning, there was no mention of balls rolling down streets, strange computer noises, or any of his fears from the last week. Only talk of baseball and predictions for the outcome of tonight's game. And then something was said about recess. He talked again about no one wanting to play with him, and when he asks they all say no. He said instead of playing soccer today, he was going to play baseball. Knowing that "playing baseball" at school meant Jacob would be playing his own pretend game in his mind, shutting himself off to the rest of the world, I tried to persuade him to give soccer another try. I went through all kinds of different scenarios as to what he could do so he wasn't alone on a team. And then he said, "I'll take care of it, Mommy. I got this one."

Maybe he could sense my worry. My desire for him to fit in and have friends. Maybe he thought the last thing I need is my mom calling the school forcing someone to be on my team. And so I let it go with no more mention of recess or friends.

Later as I was driving home this morning from running errands with the baby girl, I noticed it was recess time. I opted to take the longer way home to hopefully get a glimpse of Jacob. There he was on the soccer field running his heart out. I paused just long enough to get a good look without appearing suspicious. (A van parked outside a school playground never looks like a good thing). And as I paused, I saw Jacob smiling and giving his buddy Hank a high five for scoring a goal.

Yes, he was part of a team. He had handled it perfectly.