The lady at the state level DMV office yesterday just gushed over how cute he was as a 12 year old boy. She loved the picture on his Certificate of Citizenship (COC). Thankfully, she didn’t make the mistake so many do and say, “I wish you were mine” (or something like that). We sure wouldn’t have needed that little trigger on my RADish boy. It could have been step one to the spiral that turns into the whole “this is your fault” (directed at me) when he failed the test yesterday. Step two: I wish I belonged to that lady, too. Step three: You should have spent more time with me on this. Step four: I hate my life. Step five: . . . . .
Well, you get the picture.
But she didn’t say that. And it didn’t happen. (Thank you, LORD!)
And therapy (DBT) taught him to feel the feelings, know he could be triggered, but reel those feelings in and respond appropriately. So, if you see a car going in ovals around an abandoned store’s parking lot today and there’s a teenage boy and a frightened-looking middle aged mom in the front seat, it may be us. Yay us!