My truth on anxiety
Everyone worries. That’s normal. And as I have always been a worrier, I know about it all too well. My worries are normally about the usual stuff; my kids, being a good person/parent, not having any or enough money, the planet, etc.
But there's something else that I worry about, something that is totally coo coo birds, something that shouldn’t even be a thing. Something I worry about, like, on a professional level...
Health stuff.
Yep. I am that person. Here I am, outing myself as that crazy self-diagnosing-symptom-googler.
It wasn’t like this before kids. Sure I would get the occasional really bad cold and ponder, what if it was something worse, but it was a thought that would leave my mind as quickly as it arrived.
Once I became a mother something shifted. My worries got darker, because, suddenly, my existence became consequential. My being here, now matters. I am needed. I am a mother who belongs to someone, to two someones, two very important little people that mean the universe to me. And I don’t ever want to be without them; I never want to be without my babies. I don’t ever want to miss one single second of their lives. I want to be there for everything, and the thought that I maybe, in a worse case scenario, I couldn’t be, paralyzes me with fear.
How’s that for issues?
For me, it seems that every illness or odd sensation is an invitation to death's door. Colds, headaches, a bout of acid reflux, a sore throat, an achy back, or tender calve muscle, whatever. What is a very normal physical occurrence for a human, and is usually disregarded by a sane person, is for me, probably (for sure) a horrible diseases that I am probably (for sure) going to be diagnosed with.
I know, I’m a crazy lady. But talking about it, and writing about it, helps me realize I’m being a wackadoo.
What sets it all off is when someone I know or sort of know, gets sick or passes away. I get so scared. And then I automatically think that I currently have, or will eventually have, what they do. And usually when that way of thinking happens I am already stressed out about other things and because I am stressed out about other things, I’m not sleeping well and not drinking enough water. The burning building effect. Dehydration and lack of sleep are a terrible combination, by the way.
Anyway I know that it’s crazy, and I know when I’m headed toward that place. I know when I am right there, looking down the worry wart super highway, knowing I should look the other way, but I don't, knowing how I can get, knowing that I need to be careful not to go further with it. It's like this warm ball in the pit of my belly. "Careful.." it says. But I don't listen, and just like that, it happens, I am swept away and I get consumed with worry.
Just in looking at all this written down I can see that it’s totally stupid to be so worried. And I can see that it is easy to stop, if I really try.
But not when I’m in it.
And right now, I am in it.
Like, really in it.
So why do I do it? *Shrugs*
I came to the conclusion that one reason may be, because there is no finish line to good health. For whatever reason, to me, that's stressful.
When I am feeling anxious, I try to change my thought process and stay positive. “Stay positive” I think. Positive. Positive. Positive Worry. Worry worry worry. Gah.
Oh man, over thinking is the pits.
When these little trips upon the dark side express happen, it's as if the ride is a one way ticket to worry wart island. It's really hard to shake it off. I get really introverted, and as my mother would say, over-indulgent in my worries.
I do totally grasp the irony of my worrying in that, I’m worrying about something bad happening, so I am holding on to life so hard because, I don’t want to get sick and miss it or die and have it be over, but in this depths of despair worrying that I do, I’m actually missing my life, because, I’m stuck on worry wart island all by myself.
I wish I could be like Max in "where the wild things are" and shout at my worries, “BEAST BE STILL!” and have them stop and be quiet, just like the monsters do in the book.
I once read you should treat your worries like you would a toddler having a tantrum. Hear them, tell them no, and then stop listening. I think whomever made that suggestion, while had good intentions, never has had to deal with a toddler having a screaming tantrum. At least not from one of my kids.
I mean, I get the analogy as anxiety, is much like toddler tantrums; loud, and frustrating, and sparked by irrationality But also like toddler tantrums, worries usually aren't tamed by just simply ignoring them. At least not with my worries.
But from what I am still learning as a parent, and a professional worrier, is that even though, I want to, and feel like I should, I mustn't give them all the attention they are screaming for. I cannot let the screaming for attention get the best of me. If I have tried everything to quiet them, and there is still no change, then I guess I just have to let them scream until they tire themselves out. And I’m right about there.
I know it’ll be quiet soon. And once there is finally quiet, reason and logic can come in like a warm blanket and make it calm again.
It is a work in progress, and a lesson I need to keep relearning again, and again.
How long did it take Alice to slay the dragon? Too long probably. But at least she does do it. And maybe I will eventually too.
But there's something else that I worry about, something that is totally coo coo birds, something that shouldn’t even be a thing. Something I worry about, like, on a professional level...
Health stuff.
Yep. I am that person. Here I am, outing myself as that crazy self-diagnosing-symptom-googler.
It wasn’t like this before kids. Sure I would get the occasional really bad cold and ponder, what if it was something worse, but it was a thought that would leave my mind as quickly as it arrived.
Once I became a mother something shifted. My worries got darker, because, suddenly, my existence became consequential. My being here, now matters. I am needed. I am a mother who belongs to someone, to two someones, two very important little people that mean the universe to me. And I don’t ever want to be without them; I never want to be without my babies. I don’t ever want to miss one single second of their lives. I want to be there for everything, and the thought that I maybe, in a worse case scenario, I couldn’t be, paralyzes me with fear.
How’s that for issues?
For me, it seems that every illness or odd sensation is an invitation to death's door. Colds, headaches, a bout of acid reflux, a sore throat, an achy back, or tender calve muscle, whatever. What is a very normal physical occurrence for a human, and is usually disregarded by a sane person, is for me, probably (for sure) a horrible diseases that I am probably (for sure) going to be diagnosed with.
I know, I’m a crazy lady. But talking about it, and writing about it, helps me realize I’m being a wackadoo.
What sets it all off is when someone I know or sort of know, gets sick or passes away. I get so scared. And then I automatically think that I currently have, or will eventually have, what they do. And usually when that way of thinking happens I am already stressed out about other things and because I am stressed out about other things, I’m not sleeping well and not drinking enough water. The burning building effect. Dehydration and lack of sleep are a terrible combination, by the way.
Anyway I know that it’s crazy, and I know when I’m headed toward that place. I know when I am right there, looking down the worry wart super highway, knowing I should look the other way, but I don't, knowing how I can get, knowing that I need to be careful not to go further with it. It's like this warm ball in the pit of my belly. "Careful.." it says. But I don't listen, and just like that, it happens, I am swept away and I get consumed with worry.
Just in looking at all this written down I can see that it’s totally stupid to be so worried. And I can see that it is easy to stop, if I really try.
But not when I’m in it.
And right now, I am in it.
Like, really in it.
So why do I do it? *Shrugs*
I came to the conclusion that one reason may be, because there is no finish line to good health. For whatever reason, to me, that's stressful.
When I am feeling anxious, I try to change my thought process and stay positive. “Stay positive” I think. Positive. Positive. Positive Worry. Worry worry worry. Gah.
Oh man, over thinking is the pits.
When these little trips upon the dark side express happen, it's as if the ride is a one way ticket to worry wart island. It's really hard to shake it off. I get really introverted, and as my mother would say, over-indulgent in my worries.
I do totally grasp the irony of my worrying in that, I’m worrying about something bad happening, so I am holding on to life so hard because, I don’t want to get sick and miss it or die and have it be over, but in this depths of despair worrying that I do, I’m actually missing my life, because, I’m stuck on worry wart island all by myself.
I wish I could be like Max in "where the wild things are" and shout at my worries, “BEAST BE STILL!” and have them stop and be quiet, just like the monsters do in the book.
I once read you should treat your worries like you would a toddler having a tantrum. Hear them, tell them no, and then stop listening. I think whomever made that suggestion, while had good intentions, never has had to deal with a toddler having a screaming tantrum. At least not from one of my kids.
I mean, I get the analogy as anxiety, is much like toddler tantrums; loud, and frustrating, and sparked by irrationality But also like toddler tantrums, worries usually aren't tamed by just simply ignoring them. At least not with my worries.
But from what I am still learning as a parent, and a professional worrier, is that even though, I want to, and feel like I should, I mustn't give them all the attention they are screaming for. I cannot let the screaming for attention get the best of me. If I have tried everything to quiet them, and there is still no change, then I guess I just have to let them scream until they tire themselves out. And I’m right about there.
I know it’ll be quiet soon. And once there is finally quiet, reason and logic can come in like a warm blanket and make it calm again.
It is a work in progress, and a lesson I need to keep relearning again, and again.
How long did it take Alice to slay the dragon? Too long probably. But at least she does do it. And maybe I will eventually too.
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