Here I am, in the middle of an anxiety attack. It’s not the can’t breathe hyperventilating kind. It’s more subtle. It’s the heart racing, mind racing, it will be a miracle if I can sleep tonight kind. I’ve decided to share it with you even though it’s ugly and I hate it. I promised myself and you all that my blog would be honest. That I’d write my reality and not just pretty things.
I’m working hard to be more mindful when these things happen. To think about what triggers them. Tonight I made the mistake of thinking about money and the girls starting daycare next month. That’s where it started and then it spiraled into a thousand other things that I need to do but didn’t when I got home because I worked an 11 hour day and I was dog tired. Then came the guilt about not taking care of things because I chose to watch two episodes of The Crown instead. A simple thought in the shower turned into full blown anxiety attack in about 20 minutes. Boom! That’s how fast it can work sometimes.
The more exhausted I get the more they happen and the worse they are. My rational brain says get in bed, turn on a sleep meditation, and turn out the lights. The anxiety monster says why the hell try to sleep? You have so much to do. You should just get up and start trying to do all of it right now. Get dressed from your shower and hook the car seats back in the van even though you won’t need them until tomorrow afternoon and it’s freaking cold outside. It says lay out the kids clothes for their Christmas pictures tomorrow afternoon even though I know where everything is already. The stupid little voice says that even if I do all of that it won’t matter because how am I going to pay the bills next month with so much going on this month. Then it tells me that I’m a crappy Mom and Wife. Oh, and a shitty housekeeper for good measure. Some nights it even throws in a you’re fat too. Classy broad that anxiety of mine.
When I was younger and an idiot I’d try to quell the anxiety by going out and drinking or flirting. It worked sometimes but never resolved the issues underlying it all. Big shocker there. In my healthier moments, I’d find a way to be creative. Now it just depends on the timing and the cause. The other night I started obsessively doing chores around the house until The Hubs helped me stop and made me go to bed. Sometimes when it’s really bad I cry. Tonight I’m writing. I guess it’s a good sign that I’m turning to a healthier option?
I know that in the morning I’ll be able to step back and problem solve. Be able to look at the unknowns rationally and be fine. Right now I’m going to finish setting up this post, cry a little, then put on a big giant comfy shirt and get in bed. Then I’ll close my eyes and count my blessings. The way I see it, my options are either keep fighting or give up. So tonight I’ll rest up and go back to fighting tomorrow.