Simon’s school has a program called Marathon Club. The idea is that every Wednesday after school, the students get together and run (and/or walk, skip, gallop) laps around the building. Every lap is a half-mile.
What is ironic is that this is the child that COMPLAINS EVERY STEP OF THE WAY through the grocery store. Yet, magically and unbelievably he is able to run 26.2 miles without whining. I never heard a single, "I’m tired! My legs hurt! Are we done yet? I just want to go home!" come from his precious lips. The grocery store? IS ANOTHER STORY.
You’re killing me, kid. KILLING ME.
Stop, bow, and applaud though because run (read: walk, skip, jump) he did. All 26.2 miles of it. I, personally, believe that runners are a special brand of crazy. I would rather
give birth naturally shoot myself in the foot than be forced to run. What I believe, however, is not what this post is about.
This is about my super, special snowflake of a child that finished what he started.
Speaking of finished, we also recently decided to stop therapy for Simon’s anxiety. We finally met with our new therapist and discussed our plan. According to Simon’s original treatment plan, he has successfully met the goal of reducing his number of panic attacks. We are going to continue with medication and re-evaluate before school starts again. Anxiety is a chemical imbalance that is best "cured" with medication. I don’t like it but the fact remains that he hasn’t had a panic attack since he started medication. He hasn’t complained of stomach aches. He hasn’t cried about going to school. He hasn’t freaked out about thunderstorms or people dying.
To say that he is doing better is an understatement. He is more relaxed. He goes with the flow. He runs 26.2 miles without complaining.
I am so proud, friends.