Some days

Some days are better than others it seems.. Some days the sound of my children laughing and playing is music to my ears..Makes me the happiest person in the entire world.. And others…. It can be so piercing I could scream.

Then comes guilt. I feel guilty for this struggle. I feel like my family should not suffer what I am going through.. But it seems inevitable for them not to. I fight, they fight.

My son, who is 5 going on about 16, is my best friend and my biggest supporter. He recognizes the anxiety and quickly says and does things to help me. “It’s OK mom, I am right here, you are Ok”. God, am i lucky to have him. He is the smallest version of me.. with the biggest heart you could possibly imagine. Smart, too. He continues to blow me away with the things that come out of his ever so perfect face. But why should a 5 year old know anxiety? Why should he know the things to say and do for someone who is suffering. He can barely write his own name.. but by God is he good at calming someone down.

My daughter is 2. Just 2. And it can be terrible… it can also be the greatest age. I am blessed to know she is also a mini version of me.. But she got my younger, wilder, free spirit days. Lucky her. Stubborn is an understatement with this one. She doesn’t understand the anxiety. Often making it worse.. She gets frustrated when I am frustrated, and sad when I am sad. Which leaves me no time to tend to my own needs… Since her stubbornness wont let me take a breath in times of need. But… bless her heart for being so innocent and not understanding the struggle. I hope that continues for … ever.

I have a boyfriend. He is the father of my children…. and maybe one day my fiance…… One. Day. (I’ve learned to stop asking him about it. The more i ask.. the longer it’ll take, i assume) He was raised in a perfect white picked fence type life. I don’t blame him for not understanding a lot of real life issues, and not knowing how to adapt to change and things like anxiety. He was somewhat sheltered from problems. He is such a Half full type person… Never having been through anything too terrible, he doesn’t understand how things take their toll on someone. How things linger and can bother someone. He’s a Brush-it-off kinda guy. Which is where our biggest struggle comes from.

He is the type of person to tell me just to get over it. That it’s not real so it shouldn’t bother me. I am hoping one day he see’s the light. Because having him as my partner, love, and biggest supporter would be nice.

I’ve noticed myself becoming routine about my anxiety. There are small things that I do to somewhat “cope” with the physical symptoms. I find myself shifting feet… from one to the next. Over and over until someone usually screams at me to sit still. I touch my thumb to each of my fingers in order from the index to pinky and back again. And the absolute worst one of all.. I swallow air to make myself belch.

Do not ask me why those things have become a part of my “get rid of anxiety” routine… or how they even help… But they do. For me anyway.

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