No Reason

Things are good. So good. Yet I am still not right.

There are milestones and careers and success stories and new schools.

There are open windows and open doors.

There are anticipations, excitements, and things to look forward to. But I have started reaching for the phone to call her again.

I began running again. Running makes me think of my mom. Dieting, eating well, being healthy, being unhealthy, seeing grandmas, reading about people dying in their 50s, pregnant women, shopping, cleaning, lipstick, the vacuum, and the Gin Blossoms. Everything. It’s disgusting, really.

My anxiety is out of control. I can’t stop thinking about how Leah is probably dying every time I’m not with her.

Songs that have nothing to do with moms that have died make me think of my mom that died. I mean, songs that are clearly about other things I think were written with me in mind.

Never mind, I’ll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don’t forget me I beg, I remember you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

 

~Adele

 

It’s just a minor setback, and I’m sure I’ll come out of it, but it takes a lot out of me and it wears me down.


God, I hope I lose weight tonight at Weight Watchers.*

Here we go again.

*My priorities are warped.

 
 
 
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Ugh

Tonight I am having a real bad night.  I can't pinpoint what triggered this, but I have an idea.  I don't want to talk about it.  These types of nights are horrible.  I am succeeding at everything and failing at everything.  Everything is good yet everything sucks.  I am a good mother I am a bad mother.  I know what's going on but I haven't the foggiest clue what I'm doing. My dad's cousin is going to call me in five minutes and I have to pull it together because I can't let them see me sweat.

A Smallish Heart Attack

What is it with children and their need to hide in racks in stores?  This is a new thing with Leah.  It entertains her to no end and gives me heart palpatations.  She's too old and nosey to sit in a stroller.  She will follow the, "one hand on the cart" rule for about 35 seconds.  But, as soon as I stop to take a look at something, we get this:

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First Day

If you're my friend on Facebook, you know that I've left my old job and found a new one.  This new job is closer to my home, as well as my hometown.  It's got some other perks, too.  Perks that I couldn't turn down.  So, I didn't.

I dislike change.  I'm a creature of habit.  I like things to stay the same, comfortable way, and, even if things are not ideal, or not even satisfactory, anymore, I tend to just leave it status quo rather than start fresh.  I hate not knowing what I'm doing:  starting at a new place, with new co-workers, with new policies, rules, and responsibilities.  For this reason, I've always dreaded the first day of school.  More so than is normal.

Senior year in high school my friend Maryann and I found out on the first day of class that we had lunch the second to last period of the day, which was also the latest lunch period.  After a particularly bad first day of classes, Maryann and I proceeded to the ketchup dispenser, pressed the lever, and were squirted with ketchup spooge out of an almost-empty dispenser all over our faces and shirts.  While we were lucky to have only one more class to get through with ketchup stained clothing, this is the type of stuff that happens to me on "first days." 

So, today, as I walked into my new office building, I thought I might vomit right there on the receptionist's lap.  But, I held it together.  Barely.  I was really uncomfortable all day, but I tried to make the best of it.  I sweat more than I normally do, and on a trip to the bathroom I realized that my bangs were parted quite strangely and I'm not sure for how long, but I muddled through the day to drive home in a torrential hail storm.  In September. 

I know that time will make things better, despite how painful it is for time to pass.  I will soon figure out what my new job entails, and who my new co-workers are, and what this new place is all about.

But, until then, things are weird.  And strange.  I didn't really like talking about my old job on this blog, and I will most likely not talk about my new job on here as well, but I just wanted to let you know what's going on.
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With a Capital A

I think I started to get Anxiety, right around 7th grade. It wasn’t anything debilitating, but it was able to enter my brain, hold my thoughts, and even warp them for periods of time.

You know that part in Ghostbusters when the guys have to think of NOTHING because anything they think of will come to life and then someone thinks of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and he starts chasing them? That’s how anxiety takes over my thoughts. It’s the only way I can describe it.


Last week Leah fell into the pool. I was all the way on the other side. I jumped in and swam to her in a frantic rush as she bobbed up and down in the water. At one point, right before I reached her, our eyes met. Hers showed pure terror. I am fairly certain that mine did too. But, I knew what I was doing. I was saving her. She had no idea what was going on. She was completely helpless.



I finally reached her and got her out of the pool. I managed to climb out myself and take off my soaked cover-up and hang it on the fence. I could barely speak. I was having a hard time breathing. I think I kept saying it’s ok, it’s ok, over and over again, but I’m not sure.


I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to grab her and hug her so tight and tell her that I was never going to let her go. I just wanted to scream and cry and freak out, but I knew that was the worst possible way to act in this situation. So, as I attempted to calm down and catch my breath, I said things like, Oooh, let’s get back in the pool! Let’s practice jumping to mommy.


She was silent the whole time. She knew that something different, (wrong?, bad?) had happened, but she wasn’t sure how she should react. I know that my ability to hide how damn scared I was was imperative in keeping her calm and unafraid.


She was concerned over the fact that I had jumped in with a dress on. But, other than that, she just followed me and let me hold her and hug her briefly and then we got back into the pool together and started playing. I knew it was important to get right back into the pool to avoid any future water fear.


But my water fear is now alive and present. And for days I couldn’t talk about the event and could only see her terrified eyes in my head when I closed my eyes at night. I am having a hard time focusing on the fact that we avoided a huge and devastating event and being relieve about it. Instead, I am engrossed with what could have happened. What would have happened if I wasn’t there. What would have happened if I didn’t get there fast enough. And it’s leaking into other events of my life. Last night I almost had to stop doing laps in my pool because I was convinced I was going to break my neck on the side of the pool and drown to death.


My anxiety is now in full force. Every time I try to think about something else, I start thinking about how this situation could have gone. I think about horrible terrible things and it’s difficult to get these thoughts out of my mind. As much as I try to just clear my head of all bad thoughts, I just can’t.


When my mom died, I started having these really morbid thoughts. Thoughts about getting into car accidents, having problems with my pregnancy, losing other family members.


I’ve thought for a few years that this anxiety started with the death of my mother, but lately I’ve been thinking about the past and my childhood, and I think that this started back in grade school.


But I’ll save those stories for another day.
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