Choosing a Pot

Still trying to summarize the early stages of this experience.  Up until my daughter was in high school, she was fine.  What wasn't fine, was my marriage.  So, after 18 years of marriage, I asked for a divorce, and that process was even more stressful than the marriage.  It was during that time, I think after looking back and talking with my daughter, that her emotional 'pot hole' began to develop.  One morning, in 2001, I was telling her to hurry to get ready for school, and she was in the bathroom, sitting on the bathtub, crying.  She didn't know what was wrong, but she couldn't finish getting ready.  This from a girl who rarely missed school, straight A's, involved in activities.  I didn't know what to do, but thought that maybe it was stress, and I told her to stay home.  I went to work, and when I came home, she was still in bed, and still very sad.  This lasted for three days.  During that time I talked to a friend, and she told me to have Amanda try to write down her thoughts.  On the fourth day, Amanda went to school, and I thought things were back to normal.  I realize now, that during that time, somewhere deep inside her, the darkness had taken hold.  On the weekend, when I was stripping beds to wash the sheets, I saw the book she had written in.  I read what she had written.  She wrote that she was afraid.  That she didn't know what the purpose of everything was, and then talked about her brother and dad.  She felt that they had abandoned her.  She felt abandoned.  I realize it was at that time, that she and I had begun to design the pot.  Anger, feeling abandoned, fear, doubt, and sadness blended together, is a stronger material than steel.  It can cut with more precision than a diamond into a person's soul. And so, without any understanding, because I thought things were back to normal, and resumed the normal routine and mindset, I chose a pot.  Very deep, sturdy and dark.  I also didn't realize at the time, but I was on the rim of the pot, getting ready to take a dive.