A Day With Anxiety

I wake up in the morning, groggy but ready to see my tot’s little arms reaching for me. Her happy mood lifts mine, and though I’m tired I am more than happy to soak in her sunshine. Is there still a dark cloud over my head? Maybe, but I’m not going to check.

One pill, two pill, three pill, vitamin, and I'm off to start the day. I make breakfast for Tate, coffee for me, and let the dogs stretch their legs in the yard. Today is no day to stay inside, I think to myself. I decide we should go out and explore.

We get cleaned up, Tate in her cutest dress and myself in my Jeans of Productivity. I look good, I feel good, and for once I feel like it's a good day. I add a little makeup because it’s been a while since I’ve had the energy to. A few things have expired since then, but I can work with a little. Still cute. 

We lock up house, and the sun beams on my chilly skin. The warmth from my comforter could never match the rays of the sun. Where we go, I do not know, but we’re gonna be out just to be out. No commitments.

Tate and I go to a few stores and browse. I’m happy to be getting my steps in, and hope this mild exercise gets my serotonin kicking in soon. I’m looking at some purses, when I sense it.

Eyes are on me. 

There’s a whisper and a giggle just down the aisle. 

Oh Lord their talking about me. 

Two perfect strangers, out on their own shopping day, laugh together and wander off. 

I stand there, shaking like a leaf.

No, they’re being silly. Has nothing to do with me. 

I try to focus on what’s in front of me. Tate tugs my hair and giggles loudly. She’s not bothered by anyone at all. I shouldn’t be either.

I treat Tate to the park. She’s ready to stretch her legs around the playground. I walk her up to the steps onto the play set and encourage her to go crazy.

Instead, she just sits there, still and quiet, watching the other children run and scream around her. Is she afraid? Does she feel small? Did she inherit my chronic shyness? 

It’s only a moment and then she’s playing, in her own way at least. Up and down the stairs she goes, giggling and screaming. Not quite the roaming toddler we see around the park, but she’ll get there. I like to chase her as she screams in excitement, and I'm happy to see her exploring new places.

It’s time for a nap, so we go home. Tate gets comfy in her bed, her singing dog close by.  I could rest too, but I don’t. I have energy now, lots of it, and I have to put it somewhere.

So I clean the floor, and wash the dishes. I pick up toys even though they’ll be all over the floor again in a few hours. Feel a small rush of rage as I find Jesse’s socks stuffed under the couch.
I have to sit for a minute and breathe, because come on- they’re just socks, dude.
I’m not on any specific diet, but I know when I eat fresh, I feel fresh. So bottled water and a handful of carrots is a good snack to have while I settle down with a book.

I get curled up on the couch, with my picture window basking the pages in natural light. I have to focus extra hard on the words. My brain is a foggy mess, operating on Windows 95. I see the information, and I think to myself that I should start writing notes so I remember what’s important. I’m also a procrastinator, so I figure I’ll just wait and do it later.

Tate is up and ready to burn that energy. I'm all fresh out of that, but we gotta roll with it.

She shares her real and imaginary snacks with me, and I thank her for her kindness. She needs to fly through the air and I need to work out my muscles, so I make it happen. Pet the dog? I’m down! But let me show you how to do it nicely…

It’s getting to be late in the afternoon, and whether Jesse is home or not, it’s time to start dinner. Tate plays with the dogs under the table, and I pull up Pinterest to figure out what new dish we’re going to attempt tonight. It has to be healthy, because my thyroid is all out of whack and I need to lose weight. 

Good Lord I’m so fat. I know Jesse doesn’t see that, but I do. I feel it. And it sucks. But I digress.

I prep the food and pop it in the oven. I’ve made something with chicken, because it’s my specialty (i.e. I can’t cook to save my life). I sit down with Tate and hold her blocks for her while she works on her newest creation. 

With no Jesse in sight, Tate and I have dinner. She tears up the rice and carrots, sends the broccoli flying from the highchair. We splash in the bath, and then she’s once again snuggled up in bed, secretly playing with her stuffed animal until she dozes off to sleep.

With Tate in bed for the night, it's my time. Time to read more, or write, or do blog maintenance. Or it might be a night where I scroll mindlessly through Facebook and Pinterest. The dogs like to cover my legs and compete for my one free hand. 

My eyelids are heavy now, but something in me just doesn’t want to go to bed. Not yet.

It’s late in the night when Jesse comes home. So I help him put his things away, heat up his dinner, and bring it to him with water. He wants me to stay and watch TV with him, but at this point I can’t deal with the noise. I promise we'll do something together tomorrow night. I decide to take a bath, because my feet are cold.

Thirty minutes later I’m in bed, phone on the nightstand, head buried in the pillows. So tired yet so sleepless. I roll over and check my phone, just for ten minutes or so. Roll over to sleep again. 

Check phone one more time since I’m not sleeping anyways. 

I hope we can sleep in a little in the morning.

What if I stop breathing in my sleep?

Just stay still and breathe, you’ll doze off eventually.

This isn't my everyday. Some days I feel energized and happy and I can feel it, and yet there are still days where I wish I could stay in bed with the lights off and the shades drawn. Each day brings its own unique challenges, and I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't beat my anxiety every day.
Today may have just been ok, and tomorrow may be better. I might deep clean the whole house, talk to all my friends, and feel light and airy and vibrant. Or I might lay on the couch, doing nothing except playing pretend with my child, because that's really all that matters to me. Lately the good days outnumber the bad, and I’m proud of that. I know I am capable of making the most out of what I have so the number of bad days will keep shrinking. As for now, I am taking one day at a time.   

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