There are times...I find a problem area one of my children is dealing with cropping up in myself, and I am faced with the discomfort of being acutely aware of how difficult it is to ask my child to overcome something that still bites me in the ass.
I don't like this frisson of anxiety that can twist my gut into pretzels, nor the reality that my thoughts can border on compulsive. I don't care for the fact that I can turn a problem over and over and over in my head until the pointlessness of the exercise is abundantly clear and yet onwards I continue. It's exhausting.
And to see this same tendency exhibited by one of my children makes the whole thing all the more exhausting. How can I tell her to surmount the tendency if I can not?
It forces me to re-examine the tendencies, the issues, from another angle, to consider how I would ask her to change, to alter course, and perhaps, finally, in the need to provide my child with those tools, I will arm myself with them as well. And off I go to chew on that and work to solve this riddle so that my girl will have a better tool box.