School started August 20-something. And I have to say, I have never been more proud of my daughter. She has had some rather intense anxiety and moderate panic attacks, but she hoovered it up and went to school. She *asked* for medications (prozac). She is making friends - something she hasn't done since the 2nd grade. She gets herself up every day and ready for school. There has not been one school battle. Not one. Nada. Zip. Zero. Two Friday's ago she told me while we were in the car that she was "high on happy". I haven't heard my daughter admit to being happy in years. Years! This past Friday she and several others went to a friend's house to hang out after school. And she said she had a really good time. Get this: she said there were a few times she was so bored that she wanted to slit her wrists, but that she had a good time. Do you know how huge that is??? In the past it has *always* been that one negative moment would outweigh an entire day of good. In the past, had she been bored for 2 minutes, she would have had a "horrible time". But, she had a *good* time. I'm so proud of her. So proud. There aren't words to articulate it and every time I think about it, I start to tear up. These past few weeks have been more typical teen than difficult child - instead of more difficult child than typical teen. I knew she was in there somewhere.