Anxious Me Part I

I. Can. Control. Everything. Or at least I’m trying to. Anxiety is a running theme in my role as a mommy and in my blog.  This post will strike some similar notes as a previous post Anxiety in My Mommy Head and Mommy Heart.  A few weeks ago, I began a series of posts in which I’m making attempts to find ways to lessen my anxiety by organizing things around me.  In this post, I will examine my anxiety in a bit more depth.  It seems to be getting worse and before I spin out of control, I want to take a deeper look at myself to see how I can get a handle on the anxious me.

Anxiety is completely irrational.  Not being able to control events, their outcomes or my kids really gets my anxiety going.  While I realize those three things are impossible, my body struggles against this fact.   I feel on edge and every little thing bothers me.  My chest feels tight, my whole body feels tense and I feel out of control.  I think it’s the “what if” aspects that are the most difficult for me.  It’s like a choose your own adventure in my head without the fun.  I brace myself for multiple outcomes at once, so much so, that I feel like I’m having panic attacks.  This past weekend, we were swimming in my mom’s pool. I was holding Hunter while he played on the steps and tried to walk right into the water without regard for where he was walking.  I had a grip on him, but I felt panicked.  I was so overwhelmed with worry that I asked Joe to hold him instead.  Joe didn’t handle him to my satisfaction (maybe this isn’t possible), as my anxiety only got worse.  My mom took over and I felt confident that she wouldn’t let him fall into the water.  This is not to say that Joe intended for this to happen, (again, I never said I was being rational).  At the time, I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like bursting into tears.  I was so overwhelmed with the any number of things that could happen to him.  What exactly did I think would happen?  I don’t know, but I was trying to prepare for all of them, and control anything that might cause him harm or upset.  Looking back, rationally, what was the worst that would’ve happened?  He might have gone under water for a second, but he wouldn’t have drowned, we were right there.  He was okay, but I wasn’t.

I don’t want my anxiety to affect my kids.  I want to be able to relax around them and just let them play.  Live and let live, as they say.  If something were to happen, it would be awesome to just be able to react at that point and not try to predict and prevent what might happen.  Trying to do that is making me feel sick.  I’ve even been getting heartburn, which is abnormal for me.  Joe tells me I need to relax before I have a stroke and tells me I should have a drink.  If the fix could be as easy as drinking wine, doesn’t he think I would do that?  My mom and sisters with the best of intentions (not to say that Joe doesn’t have the same intentions, I just don’t think he understands how I’m feeling) think medicine might be the answer.  

I began taking Prozac at age sixteen for depression.  As an adult I was diagnosed with chronic depression.  I stopped taking anti-depressants when I found out I was pregnant with Zoey.  Since then I haven’t felt the need for medication, until now. Maybe my body chemistry changed during my pregnancy, but a blood test early in my pregnancy revealed I have a underactive thyroid, so I began taking medicine for it.  As there is a correlation between thyroid and depression, maybe my thyroid had been the cause of my depression all along.  I don’t know, but it’s panic that’s consuming me now.

I’ve always been a worry wart and I don’t know if this is something I can change.  I don’t worry as much about Zoey getting physically hurt as I do with Hunter.  He’s still a baby and not as sturdy on his feet as she is yet.  He’s also a little wild maniac that wants to do everything his sister does.  If she climbs on top of a tote box and jumps off, he also climbs up, stands up and bends his knees to jump too.  It’s just not possible to relax around this boy unless he’s asleep.

I have anxiety over things that may or may not happen in the future.  I’m aware, in part, that I’m worrying about things that will work themselves out and shouldn’t be worried about.  Zoey is tall and will be taller than most people her age probably for the rest of her life.  I over ponder about how this will affect her.  I’m trying to think of how I can make this easier for her.  Really, though, what can I do?  I can’t stop her from growing or shave a few inches off of her.  Other than teaching her to feel confident in who she is and that everyone is special in their own way, there isn’t much else I can do.  I can’t control how her height will affect her as she grows up.  I can’t stop the challenges that will come up for her and I shouldn’t.  The tough experiences will be the ones that give her character and make her who she is.   I need to change my mindset.  The phrase that pops into my head when I think about this is the Alcoholics Anonymous prayer “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”  Perhaps this phrase should be my new mantra.

Before going the medication route, which I’ll have no problem doing, if I can’t help myself, I want to see what sort of control I can gain over my anxiety.  Can I talk myself out of my irrational thoughts?  Can I find a Zen parenting style that will help me relax and go with the flow?  Is there some sort of self talk or meditation exercise I can do when I start losing my rationality and begin feeling needlessly anxious?  Stay tuned as I search for a way to stay sane on my own.