Sharing Burdens

I feel like I am hanging on to the end of a frayed rope and my palms are sweaty. If I think too much I will have a major anxiety attack and end up back in bed, under the blankets, and trying not to hyperventilate. I’ve got troubles. Doesn’t everyone?

I know that the things going on right now that are stressing me out will pass. And once time moves me past this trial it won’t seem as insurmountable as it does now. Sometimes living with anxiety depression makes you feel like even small tasks are the equivalent to Frodo taking the one ring to Mount Doom.

Today I am facing a second trip to the doctor for my sick son. I also have a million tiny errands that need to be done. I need to make some phone calls, buy cat food, acquire doctors notes, and manage to pick my daughter up from school.

Monday I have a meeting at my son’s school because he has been absent a lot this year. He has inherited my anxiety demon. It, combined with a few other stressors, has made this school year hell. There have been times I have had to drag him begging to the car and you don’t want to know how many times he has thrown up on himself because of stress.

This meeting has me all tied in knots. I am trying to prepare for it. I don’t like confrontation to begin with and now I have to stand up and plead my son’s case or leave with a fine. Ironically, the day after he brought home the note for the meeting, he woke up with a 103.3 degree fever. I took him to the doctor yesterday and they said it is the flu. Again. (He has already the flu once this school year, before Christmas.) They want to see him again today. He will be out all week.

I did have plans to attend a Cherry Blossom Festive this weekend. That has been scrapped in favor of playing Nurse Mom and fretting over the future. I know worrying over the out come of the meeting will not change anything, but that doesn’t stop my brain from going: What if… and then chasing the thoughts around and around like a dog going after his own tail.

I find  that writing things out does help. That is one of the reasons I am writing this. I don’t have to share these words on line but I probably will anyway.  Because, I know I am not the only anxiety depressive out there. Sometimes reading about other people’s struggles makes your own seem smaller. Sometimes it makes you feel less alone.

If one person reads these words an thinks “Oh, I do that” or “Yeah, feeling overwhelmed sucks,” then these words will have meant something more than just me calming myself down. They will have reached out into the world and connected me with another person, and that is a precious, wonderful thing. It means I am not alone either.

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Breathing past the anxiety demon

Happy Monday everybody. I am sitting at my computer this morning watching the sun throw tree shadows against the neighbor’s house as it climbs up out of it’s Eastern bed. My house is quiet because the kids are at school and the cats are asleep.

It should be peaceful. Unfortunately I am doing battle with that inner demon called anxiety today. I’ve been having problems with it since Friday. Standing in the cold in the middle of a crowd on Saturday didn’t help matters, but it was the Christmas Parade and my daughter was walking in it.

Depression keeps wanting to kick me too. Anxiety and Depression kind of go hand in hand for me. I get frustrated with myself for the panic and jittery feelings bubbling up inside and then I get depressed because I want to just ignore it and move on with life. I have things to do. I don’t have time to fall down that winding stairway of panic.

To combat my demons I have Christmas music playing and I plan on digging out decorations for the porch later. I also need to mail out the Christmas Cards for Addie we made yesterday. I try to focus on good things.

As long I as I keep moving forward the battle against my anxiety won’t get too out of hand. It is when I sit down and let it overcome me that things get bad. Funny how the easiest way to beat down my inner demons is just to recognize they are there and then breath past them. It is still a fight, even if it isn’t a bloody one. Writing it out helps too.