Parenting, despite anxiety.

I am a Mother. I also have an anxiety disorder. I could say that I am a Mother with anxiety. But I am not. I am a Mother DESPITE my anxiety. My anxiety and I are not friends. We do not work well together. In fact, they hate each other.

Anxious me and rational me are two very different people.  Rational me thinks that calling every hospital in a 50 mile radius because my husband was a half hour late is over kill. Anxious me is just doing what she has to do to get through. And let's face it, we are all just doing what we have to. So I'll call, until I see him pull into my drive way. I'll take my child to the ER because they are breathing just slightly funny and while it's probably just because they have a cold, they could have pneumonia and die in their sleep before I'm awake. And then I'll have to face something that I'll never live through. Something that no amount of anything can fix. I won't survive it. I know me, and I know what I'm capable of handling. Losing a child isn't one of them.

I could tell you that my anxiety makes me less of a Mother, or less of a Wife, but I don't believe that. I often think that it makes me a better Mother, a better Wife. I double check everything in our home for fear of my children getting injured, and not just like any normal parent would, but obsessively. I check doors, things that get hot, the temp in my girls rooms, the weather, and anything else that may injure them through out the night. It takes a toll on me. Sometimes I can't sleep because I worry I forgot something, so I get up and I do it all over again. I worry obsessively about my kids. It's exhausting, it's trying, but do I think it makes me less of a Mother? No. I worry about my Husband in the same way. I worry he is constantly going to run off into the sunset with an easier woman, again, rational me knows he loves me and he's not that kind of man. However, irrational me would rather we do things in order to prevent that from ever happening. So I do my best to put my issues aside and try to be good at it all, without fail. Because in my head, there's no room for failure, ever.

I'd be lying if I said it never interfered with my parenting. Ever had a panic attack in the middle of Walmart? Well, when that happens everything I was going to buy is suddenly unimportant. I leave the cart in the middle of the store, walk straight to the car, and we go home. I manage to disassociate from it when my kids are up, and they need me. I have this way of pulling out of whatever I have to pull out of to do what I have to do, for them. I do my best to stay busy, because if I'm busy with rational thoughts, I have no room for panic. I have no room for mistakes. I don't get to think about what it means that this person is texting me a few words at a time and they probably hate me now. I don't have time to think about how the rash on my childs arm could be some kind of flesh eating bacteria and I have to obsessively hover over it to ensure they are okay. I don't have time for anything but this ballet recital, teaching my twins how to count to ten, or making sure my husband has work clothes and food. I don't have time to worry.

However, my anxiety doesn't care. Because there it is, in the back of my mind, nagging, frustrating, controlling every single horrible thought. So I worry about the car, the kids, the house, the pets, money, the bills, my knee, the faucet, this event, that event, this friend, that family member, and it goes on...and on...and on. I get up, every day, and I be the best possible parent that I can be, despite my anxiety. I love them unconditionally and without fail every single second of every single day, and because of that, I'll stay up all night because one of them is coughing. I'll worry about the big things, and the little things, and the things that don't even matter, and I'll do it while being a Mother. I'll just continue to keep the faith that one day, this won't be so hard. One day, I will worry a healthy amount and nothing more, some day, but not today.

Shame in the check out

Why does needing assistance mean that we have to choose between our pride, our ability to stand up tall, and feeding our children?  It shouldn't.  As a whole, we should be less selfish.  We should be glad we are alleviating a heavy burden from struggling parents.  We should be grateful we live in a country that has a system to help them.  And I know that some abuse the system,  or don't try to help themselves out of the situation they are in, but that doesn't give us any right to throw them all into one category. 

I'm grateful my family is in a better place.  But a year ago our lives were very different,  and every time I had to swipe that card, I tried to do it as quick as I could. I didn't want anyone to see. I felt ashamed.  I felt judged.

Yesterday,  I watched a young Mother with her 3 kids.  She avoided eye contact with the cashier,  looked at the ground,  hoped no one would notice.  I saw the blue card swiped and quickly placed in her back pocket.  She watched the prompts nervously hoping it would go through. She was me a year ago.  She looked at her 3 small boys and then I smiled at her. I told her she had a beautiful family and she thanked me before pushing her boys and groceries out to the car.

These families on assistance are not horrible people. A lot of them are people who put their pride aside and risk being belittled so they can be sure their families eat. A lot of them are even our Veterans. So next time you see a well dressed Mom, a stressed out Mom, a single Dad or a large family on welfare, just smile and tell them they have a beautiful family.  You don't know everyone's story,  you don't know their burdens, but maybe you can help them feel a little less small.

Let's be kind to one another, life is already hard enough.

Why I shouldn't buy stamps.

I bought stamps the other day. Not just a couple, but a whole freaking book. When I have stamps in my house I for some reason feel the need to send things out, or write letters. While writing letters can be fun, when you have as many estranged family members as I do, it's like gambling.


I haven't spoken to my Grandmother in over 3 years. And we were barely talking then. My Father has been dead for almost 10 years, and when he died, most of our family did with him. No, not literally, but might as well have. You would think that they would have wanted to be there for us during our difficult time, instead, they all decided that we were guilty of things that didn't happen, or weren't in our control. I was 13 when my Father died, and my Brother was only 19. We were children. We were sad and broken. We needed them.


There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of them. Think of the kind of Great Grandparents they would be to my children, think of the Great Uncles they could have had. I always wonder about the kind of stories they would tell my children about my Dad. I'm a sentimental idiot. I constantly want to try to make amends and bring our broken family back together. It kills me to see what has happened to it. So, when I bought stamps, I decided to write my Nana. I decided to tell her how I feel, and try to repair what has broken. I did what I always do, and I put my heart on the line.


It could go well, and we could start talking again, we could be the family we really are. I'll do my best to pretend I didn't hold it against her for years, and she will try to put everything in the past and love me anyway. It could end up good, or even great. However, there's also a good possibility that it could end badly. So badly that things are never repairable. I can be rejected again and feel that horrible pain. I could have my heart ripped from chest again. It could feel like losing my Dad all over again.


I want my children to know them. I want my children to know who my Father was, in ways that I can't describe to them. I want them to have a complete family unlike my very broken one. I don't want them to know even a little bit of what this abandonment feels like. I want them to know all the love in the world and never have to deal with the pain and the hand that my brother and I have been dealt. I want things to be perfect for them.


So here I am, staring at a letter with a stamp, ready to send. I have a lighter on one side, and my coat on the other. I put my coat on and curse myself the entire walk to the mailbox. I rolled the dice.


I shouldn't have bought stamps.

Shake it off!

Sometimes it takes everything in your power to keep a smile throughout the entire day. Especially on those days when you are doing your best to stay in a good mood and your child seems determined to tear you down. So in the words of Taylor Swift, just shake it off!


Pulled my toddler out from underneath her bed during "nap time" for the hundredth time.


Shake it off.


Laid her back down during "nap time." Discovered a poopy diaper on the floor, and poo every where.


I'm gonna shake it off, literally.


Toddler throws tantrum and throws lunch on the floor that I spent an hour working on....okay, a few minutes.


I still need to shake it off.


The fun activity I spent lots of money on and looked forward to all week was interrupted by crying and screaming.


Shake it off.


Brought the kids to the zoo, both toddlers slept the entire time.


Shake it off.


Spend lots of money on meals for the children. They take 2 bites.


Shake it off.


That Christmas that you bought lots of presents and they only played with the boxes and wrapping paper.


Take pictures, and shake it off.


Your $400 cell phone just went in the toilet.


Check your account promptly for device insurance....and then shake it off.


You go to give your 4 year old a hug and kiss, and she shakes you off.


Shake it off.


It's been a rough day for everyone, turn some music up, grab your kids hands and shake it off.


Life's too short to let the little stuff ruin your day. Put a smile on, laugh a lot and do your best to enjoy it all anyway. It only lasts for a short while.