My heart races, my mind won't stop, my palms sweat and it's hard to catch my breath - here we go again...another visit from my dear friend anxiety.
I am not sure exactly when I started noticing that my anxiety was getting worse, but it seems that the older I get...the more anxiety I have. (Of course I am CERTAIN the 8 years of fertility treatments, miscarriages, failed cycles, failed adoptions and everything else in between have NOTHING to do with my increased anxiety - scoff)
When Bam doesn't call me or come home when he says he is going to, my mind automatically reverts to the worse case scenario. Here are some examples:
He was mugged walking to his vehicle and is laying unconscious in an alley somewhere in downtown Phoenix.
He was involved in a horrific car crash on the way home and his phone was ejected from the vehicle no where to be found which is why the paramedics have not contacted me yet.
He has run away with the new secretary at work, they are on their way to Tahiti never to be heard from again.
My mind is just a bowl full of fun isn't it?
It isn't just with my husband. It is with EVERYTHING. I can be just driving down the freeway minding my own business and catch myself thinking...if I had a blow out right now and part of the tire hit the motorcyclist behind me, it would surely cause him to crash and possibly die. How would I be able to live with myself if that happened? I should pull over and check the condition of my tires at the next off ramp.
Seriously...bowl full of fun.
I can't remember when this started, but it has recently made me think about having children...a lot. I mean...how functional of an adult am I going to be with all these crazy anxious thoughts running through my head about my kids?
My mom friends say they worry all the time. They worry about bullies at daycare and school. They worry about them getting hurt on the playground, about them getting their feelings hurt, getting sick, being left out, being called names and on and on. My fears when thinking about kids of my own fall along the lines of: getting abducted from their bedroom in the middle of the night, suffocated at daycare, jumped into a gang at school, molested at the neighbor's house, and these are just a few of my fears for the first 10 years! (Ok - I know, I really need to stop watching the news)
Maybe this is just another defense mechanism where my brain is trying to talk me out of having kids altogether because I have just been hurt and disappointed so many times, but it is rather legitimate isn't it? I mean with all of the worrying I do already - how can I had one or two defenseless little ones onto my "worry about" roster without becoming certifiably insane and ending up in a white padded room in a medically induced drooling state.