For ten years I sat across from other people's children, helping them through anxiety, friendships, and growing up. I thought that made me ready for my own daughter.
I was wrong.
The week she turned eleven, everything shifted. She started caring about how she looked. Wanting attention. A boy in her class had started messaging her — and when I saw it, I froze. I had counseled dozens of kids through exactly this. And yet, faced with my own daughter, I had no idea what to actually say.
This wasn't supposed to happen to someone like me. I understood child development. I knew the research. Yet here I was — a professional who couldn't find the words for her own little girl.
I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want to shame her. But I also couldn't say nothing — because not everyone who gets close to a young girl comes with good intentions, and she didn't know that yet.