Starting part four of this series, a reader asks if Amy ever smiled. The answer would be yes, on rare occasions, but they often seemed fake and shallow to the rest of us. And her laugh was often forced or offered up at inappropriate times. I understand she didn’t feel what we feel, didn’t know when to laugh, hadn’t a clue about how to engage emotionally with anyone. I “get it” that she can’t do something she isn’t equipped to do. Talking to Nancy Ashe about how she felt (or more appropriately how she didn’t feel), how she “performed” her way through life, has somewhat opened my eyes as to what makes my daughter “tick”. Maybe not what makes her tick, but a smidgen of how she thinks. I don’t know… I really still don’t get it after all these years.


Writing this series creates a myriad of emotions within me. A huge part of my frustration/anger/sadness/you-fill-in-the-blank raw emotion stems from my awareness of how many ways, how many times I tried to jump start this kid. I will show a “cheesy smile” picture in an upcoming blog, but the picture I chose for this one was taken over Christmas vacation one year when Amy was about 8 or 9. She spent her entire Christmas break, per her therapist’s recommendations, doing chores and eating simply and contemplating whether or not she wanted any part of our family. She clearly decided against us, for it was around the time this photo was taken that she stated, “I hate this family!” and, looking directly at my husband, said, “I don’t care if I have a dad!”


As I mentioned previously, she had all the same perks—for awhile. She got the birthday parties (although she had no friends to invite) and the same vacations and the same opportunities for soccer or piano or whatever… but none of it went anywhere. She never had the slightest bit of appreciation for any of it, never worked to accomplish anything, and never missed an opportunity to send the message that there was no fate worse than landing in our family. After awhile, providing all the perks and receiving only this pouty face in return, never mind the accompanying poor hygiene, lousy school performance, and all the other negativity—well, it got old. So we stopped. And still nothing changed. She complained when she had it good… so of course she complained when she had it less good.

Still more coming... Is it too much of a downer? You know, I really do love this kid... but my love never changed her attitude, so I guess there is not much point in pretending I didn't notice...