Empathy (part three)

My daughter. 

She’s an absolute joy. I am amazed by her. I am proud of her. 

She gets hit with the sort of empathy fatigue that sometimes hits me. I don’t know if it’s a hard hit or a soft one, but she feels it. She must. I’m not patient or indulgent enough with her sometimes. When I come home, emotionally and mentally drained, Dan knows it’s not her, but Alex can’t really know that. She’ll hear me tell her that it’s not her fault, she’ll understand the words and what they mean, but I’m sure that a part of her gets hurt by papa being short and cranky with her. 

I try. I really do. But it’s so hard and she still too young to be able to fully understand it. Dad spends all day working with, helping and being patient with difficult kids, but can’t be that patient and helpful with his own, mildly difficult (not really) kid. 

So where do you find the reserves? Where is it going to come from?  I can’t hold back and give less the rest of the time, it just doesn’t work like that. So now what?

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