I really hate my anxiety. I look at people who aren't so crippled by it and it makes me sad. I wish I had that. I hate when things are brought into my life - trigger points - and I have to deal with them layer by layer, Isaac talking me down on each and every point several times until I walk through the issue and come out ok, moving on to the next one.
I wonder what it would be like to go through a day not worried, not concerned. To not have my brain on overdrive, expecting the worst in situations - whether that's worrying that people really like me (I withdraw or talk too much!) or worrying that my sister is having an exterminator over and what that means for me and my family (we have to move and never go to their house again!). The kicker is, though, that even the people close to me don't see half the worry. Sure, they know I'm anxious about something and they know I worry, but they honestly don't know half of it. Because I'm terrified to show people my crazy. I'm terrified to show how much I don't have control over any of it. How much it dictates in my life.
When I found out I was allergic to pesticides, I started a crusade to never have any of it touch my life ever. In any way (because that's possible...). Except here's the kicker. I didn't let many other people in on the crusade, so the burden (rightly, in my mind) was solely on me. While it's getting better, now, as I tell more and more people about it, before it was a mess. I was afraid to speak up and talk about it for fear of being the crazy (and heaven forbid I become that person who can ONLY talk about the allergy - complete with hazard cones and all - so much that people can't enjoy themselves or be around you for fear of knocking those cones down!) while inside I cut people out of my life and altered my routine so severely it was daunting. And internalized all the worry. This lead people to think it wasn't that serious, causing me MORE stress and worry. Something I could have avoided had I just firmly stated it WAS serious and here, can we possibly work around it with these alternatives?
So, when something comes up that I have to deal with, I try to state my concerns logically and offer alternatives. Or I crack a joke, hoping that will mask the concern. I talk to Isaac to the point he wants to boot me. But inside, I'm an even bigger mess. I don't sleep and I immediately jump to the worst case, we have to move and start over scenarios. And then I'm just tired.
Happy birthday, my beautiful baby boy! It's so hard to believe that at 8:10 pm tonight (California time!) you will be exactly four. I cannot wrap my head around it. One more glorious year of having you home, protected and safe.
