Anxiety
So many have hurt him. Neglected, abandoned, abused, exploited, poisoned. He's afraid his food is corrupted, vitamins tainted, medicine contaminated, drink polluted. He examines his toothpaste, sniffs clean laundry, scrutinizes his body, suspecting an injection while he slept. He itches and wonders who infected his skin. Leery of doctors, mistrustful of therapists.
"I'm just cautious."
Constantly seeking reassurance, but never reassured.
I remember the precious boy in my Sunday school classroom, hoping for someone to notice his worth. So quiet and mild-mannered that he was forgotten, overlooked, except when being mistreated because he came from a fragmented home.
Forgotten and overlooked, except by me. He remembered that, at age eighteen.
But his trust is shattered. He doubts my encouragement. He suspects my time with him. He's wary of kind acts, skeptical of gifts. Attempts at conversation are tense. He's desperate for acceptance, but apprehensive of affection.
"You came to me, remember?" I gently remind him.
"That was a mistake," he says.
Next morning the fridge magnets spell out "You are a gift from God"; he asks if I saw his message for me.
He exists in my house, but will he live in my home? Will I ever be able to feed him, hold him? How can I fight the anxiety that plagues him, this invisible foe who undermines my every move? What will it take for him to know in his mind and feel in his heart how much he is loved?
#anxiety #greatestfoe #mentalhealthawareness #adoption #ilovemyson