It's Mother's Day, one of two days out of the year that I get to not have to be the one doing everything. One of my favorite days.
This one has started just like they have for the last few years - breakfast in bed! Today, it was Chobani, mixed fruit, croissants and my giant mug of coffee (seriously - this thing holds the entire six cup pot of coffee that I make!) and a rose from our yard - perfect!
Still, as I sit here, smiling, being grateful, being as happy as I can be, I can't shake the anxiety. I can't make that feeling of everything coursing through my body way too fast go away. I can't calm the churning in my stomach, the knots, the butterflies. I could take some Xanax, but I try really hard to not take it often, as I don't want to end up having to take higher doses later to control things. But I just don't know what else to do.
I don't even know why I'm writing about this. I know that, when I opened the window, there was something I wanted to say, something I wanted to talk about, but my thoughts are so disjointed that I can't even remember what my initial intent was. All I know is that I wanted - scratch that, NEEDED - to write this morning. Something is weighing on me, and I have to try to cope with it. I have to try to figure out how to deal with this.
I think it's the waiting. I have nothing to do now but wait. Everyone who knows me well knows that waiting, patience, is not my strong suit. I can't stand the out of control feeling that comes with having to just sit here and wait, while someone else is studying me, deciding how to move my life forward.
I try not to stop everything while I wait. I try to go about my day, as normally as possible. And, evidently, I do a decent job of it publicly. There are so many people that have no idea anything is going on, no clue that, on the inside, I feel like the creeping alien fetus from Alien is trying to burst out of my gut. But that's exactly how I feel.... And I hate it.
I hate waiting, I hate feeling this much anxiety (seriously - this is worse than being on Bourbon in the middle of the crowd during Mardi Gras). I hate feeling out of control. I hate that I have the reason to feel this way. Mostly, though, I hate feeling so lonely in it all. I hate feeling like the only way I can get all these feelings out is to blog. It feels wrong, somehow. It makes me feel like I'm seeking attention, pity, but I'm not. That's the last thing I want. I just want to try to work through my feelings and, in the meantime, inform the people who want to know what's going on.
So, here it is, Mother's Day, and I'm fighting my own brain, when I should be relaxing and reveling in the love of my husband and children....