The doctor stares at you across the room, cocks her head to the side, and you already know what she’s going to say. You see the words form on her lips and you’re suddenly very aware of the feel of your own heartbeat. You try to arrange your face the way you think it should be during one of these big life moments but you can’t remember how regular faces look.
Do you smile confidently? You’ve got this. This new label in our lives is totally fine.
Do you scrunch up your eyebrows with concern? This is my robot caring face.
What about maybe a quiet pressed lip? Look thoughtful. Your vast knowledge and ability to research and make organized binders will get you through this. You have to look like you can handle it. I mean, parents of kids with special needs gotta have their crap together, so look capable and strong. But not too strong. What am I, a droid? I have to show that this is affecting me, that I care.
When Everything Falls Apart
When it came time for our big reveal, like an episode of some show on HGTV but for neuropsychologists, I fought a bizarre inner battle. In probably a telling display of my own mental illness, I had to stifle laughter. Stupid face, why won’t you work? Now is not the time to get the giggles. READ MORE