Maladjustment, part 2

Yesterday, I said that DS1 is nothing like I am. The flip side to that is that DD is exactly like I am. There's a reason that my parents called me Sarah Bernhardt as a kid. And DD is just a mini-me. I got a call last night from DD's teacher, asking us to set up a conference. It seems that DD's "emotional outbursts" are becoming more pronounced. She has a very, very low threshold for frustration, and expresses her frustration quite vehemently. This is not the first time I've heard this type of comment about DD. When she started kindergarten, her teacher called me about the emotional reactions to things. With some prodding and meetings with the school counselor, DD developed some coping strategies for when her feelings felt like they were getting out of control. And things improved. She's remained a drama queen, but it became just part of her personality as opposed to an obstacle to getting through the day. I kept it together for the entire conversation, and promised to speak to DH so that we could arrange a good time for both of us to come to school. Then, this morning, I relayed the story to Nic, and promptly collapsed into a pool of tears. I'm completely freaking out in her office, sobbing and snuffling, convinced that I am an awful mother who has warped her children, and that none of them could turn out to be productive members of society, ever. Basically, the only thing that has kept me from going to the doctor to demand that he put me on some sort of anti-anxiety medication is the fear that he's going to judge me for the fact that I have a perfectly normal life with nothing wrong with it, and therefore my request for medication is just selfish and foolish.