Fun title, eh? I am made up of half anxiety, half normal person (that may be stretching it). I have anxiety about everything and I mean, everything. It’s exhausting and irrational and I’m always fine once I get passed the thing that worries me but lord does it take it out of me. Do you have anxiety? I feel like everyone does to some extent but maybe I just tell myself that so I don’t feel alone. Well, if you do, do you ever feel like you can talk about it or do you just angrily throw the wet clothes in the dryer with your bitten off nails and huffy breathing? Here’s my reality. Wont you join me in this black hole?
Over the years, I have taught myself to deal with anxiety by having order. Order in my home, in my job, in my relationships, etc. I live for a routine and lists. When I can’t clean or create/find order, I panic and turn on the people who love me. I plan everything. I anticipate every outcome so I can be prepared. Fight or flight baby.
Here are some fun examples of my crazy, I’m going to imagine you nodding your head while reading these so I can exhale.
If you’ve ever made plans to go to the movies with me, you know that I CANNOT be late. I will be on the edge of my seat with worry that I’m going to miss something or not get a good seat, not have time to get my icee or the movie being sold out. The ride to the movies when we’re “Lana late” is SUPER fun. For the record, I’ve never missed any part of a movie, but I sure have worried myself into a tizzy about it. Thank you friends and family for still inviting my fun and calming self to go out in public.
Secondly, I have to be on top of everything all of the time. My house has to be clean and organized. If my house is a mess I can’t function out in the world. My “base” has to be good to go before I can enjoy anything else. You know, in case the Board of Housewives drops by for judgement. I want to tell you not to care about what other people think but Jesus knows when I’m lying. Carrying on…everything has its place. Having a baby has REALLY tested that part of my anxiety. Penelope has so much stuff and I’ve had to find homes for everything so I can get over myself and live life (she’s worth every second of it). I frequently clean out cabinets, drawers etc. My husband hates this because he thinks I’m just making room to go buy more stuff to fill it right back up. Sometimes he’s right but please don’t tell him, I can’t with him and his not being like me ways.
Then there’s my physical self. Ughhh, it’s never ending. Am I doing everything I can to be the healthiest? Should I fake tan myself this week? Nails or no nails? Should I put a mask on my hair? Are my teeth white enough? I wonder if that spot on my leg is cancer? I’m exhausted just writing this, if you’re still reading along, bless you. I worry about every little twinge. Google is not my friend. I lay in bed at night thinking it’s just a matter of time until they find some tumor or something cancerous. I can hear my Mother saying “Why do you do that to yourself” as I type this. I know I’m my worst enemy. Therapy has helped me so much in this part of my life. Yes, I was worse. I’m learning to prioritize my crazy and talk to my inner child and calm her ass down. Remembering that I have to take care of myself too and not just allow myself to stay in the same t-shirt and shorts for two days that are covered in spit-up while throwing myself a pity party. All those questions at the beginning of this paragraph? Yeah, I just worry about those things, I don’t always do any of them to help myself… I just sit and stress about needing to do them.
I hope this post makes you feel better if you, like myself, think you’re crazy. Let’s be friends and stress together.
After saying all of that, I do put A LOT of work into being me and always growing and becoming a better version of myself. I’m doing the best I can with who I am right now. Maybe I’ll always stress. I stress when I’m laying on the beach…vacay anyone!? Or maybe as I age, I will learn to stress less and get over myself. Who knows. But you? Sugar bear, you’re doing great too. You’re not the only crazy one. Is there a club?
Cheers to you.