Our Lonely Daughter

In the fall of 1969, twenty eight year-old Janice Kinker wished her best friend, Charlotte Massey, from work (at Lazarus) would leave her alone. Charlotte kept insisting something was not quite right with her handsome precocious four year-old boy named “Robby.” His behavior was a bit odd at times. Janice wondered if she had genetically passed something on to her oldest son.

There seemed to be no behavioral challenges with her four year-old daughter (Kim) and two year-old son (Jimmy). Charlotte insisted Robby’s behavior was almost identical to that of her next door neighbor Richard. Robby needed to see a psychiatrist in the near future.

Janice knew the time had come for this when her son’s school called, and said they wanted Robby to repeat kindergarten. Charlotte told Janice doing what the school asked my help a little, but the big picture had to be resolved by a psychiatrist with proper medication.

The psychiatrist diagnosed her sweet son with a diagnosis of Hyper Kinetic Reaction of Childhood (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). The solution was the medication known as “Ritalin.” The psychiatrist promised Janice this medicine would calm Robby down enough for him to be a success at kindergarten this time around.

Four months later, Robby was taken off the Ritalin. Janice said her son had become a zombie, and not the vivacious boy she loved so much. His blood count had plummeted also. Those two reasons were enough for.

As Robert went from a teenager to an adult, he struggled with incorrectly interpreting a variety of social cues from both friends and family. His blunt, unfiltered mouth caused him to lose many people that could have been good friends. These individuals were unwilling to deal with Robert’s mood swings and bad behavior, which his parents had tried unsuccessfully to control with a variety of disciplinary measures when he lived under their roof.

Though Robert was a talented artist, writer, and soloist, he was quite lonely. Though being himself could be quite entertaining at times, at the end of the day Robert spent a great deal of his time performing enjoyable activities that required no group interaction (like writing a book).

Eventually, Robert found a wife that shared the same family values that he did. Their daughter (Allena) turned out to be a “chip off the old block.” Allena was a lot more like her father than he wished she was. Robert had no idea how to safely maneuver through the minefield of ADHD. The coping skills he’d acquired with the maturity of adulthood had been a lifesaver.

Knowing that somehow his genetic make-up had been passed down to the daughter he loved dearly (but disliked at times) infuriated him. Seeing his daughter struggle in school, lose many friends because of her overly honest speech, only having one close friend that has stuck with her (see Just Like Family), spending much of her time with her ultimate closest friend her Chihuahua (Rosco), and making bad choices her parents are not in agreement with. Even with my family and friends, I frequently experience periods of loneliness. I wonder “Is this all there is.” Even though Allena is on the right medication for ADHD, I would prefer she not struggle emotionally as I have.

For those we love, we always wish for them to have better than we did. It’s great when that is able to be a reality. Whether it is your children (or someone that is dearly cared for by you), “respect” means allowing them to fight their own battles.

No matter how painful that is to do. In the end “swooping in like an eagle” to save the day (in the long run) accomplishes nothing except a stunted growth in that person emotionally. Do you really want to cause that? Sometimes when it comes to your advice, “silence can be golden.”

It’s important to be allowed to forge your own path in life. You can allow this. You must allow it. Don’t worry your Heavenly Father has got everything under control even when it appears the opposite is true.