A Case of the Mondays

My anxiety isn’t something I like to acknowledge on a daily basis or something I adore drawing attention to, but it needs to be talked about and norms need to be broken. There are some days I can’t ignore it. It’s waking up and feeling like someone is standing on your chest for absolutely no reason. Being stressed about the day when nothing of importance is actually happening. Feeling absolutely exhausted and you’ve just woken up. Imagine feeling like you’ve just run a marathon and someone tells you that you haven’t even started. But you have to. In 5 minutes. Just the thought of having to chase a toddler around all day and do everything for an high maintenance, beautiful little girl makes me sick to my stomach. Not because I don’t love them, but because I feel like I barely have enough in me for myself and I’m worried something is going to go terribly wrong . Even though we’re just spending the day at home. Its a nagging feeling pulling at you. Causing aches all over. It’s feeling this way for absolutely no reason at all. It’s having to push past it because regardless of how anxiety ridden I am on this random day, the kids are still going to need their mom. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Like Monday of this week. My anniversary with my husband of all days.
The first cry happens and Ry needs me. Needs me to coddle him and soothe him. Then sissy wakes up and needs attention now and can’t understand why I can’t pick her up in that very instant . Both are crying. Both feeling like the desperately need me and I’m feeling like I desperately need to rewind the clock for ten minutes while I gain my composure. Deep breaths. Me on the brink of tears myself. I try to take on one task at a time. Calming Ryland, fixing him a cup of milk, sitting him on the couch. And then conquer the next task. Grabbing Lilah, soothing her, kissing her until her tears dissolve into smiles. I feel for a moment that I might have this morning under control. I grab Ryland breakfast and feed Lilah. We settle into the couch, me with a cup of coffee in hand. Cartoons on the tv. As the morning pushes on, I feel the pressure start to ease off my chest, and the worry and doubt start to creep away. Until it’s like this morning never happened. Our day goes on like usual, and the kids are happy, for the most part. I’m not even sure what caused it. Maybe sister not sleeping the night before or me still coming off of being kid free for most of the weekend. It just kind of happened without warning . Like it always has, popping in from time to time to remind me that it’s there. But because of the kids, I feel like I definitely have high-functioning anxiety. It used to make me useless. Seriously. I just didn’t fight it and felt like I couldn’t manage to do anything that day. Now, I don’t really have the choice of letting myself dissolve into a puddle of tears and worries. Their day doesn’t stop because I feel like I’m crumbling on the inside . Because of them, I have the biggest reason to push through it. If it wasn’t for them, I feel like my anxiety would swallow some of my days whole and I’d never get them back. Which is ironic considering some days they’re the biggest cause of stress and worries. At the end of any day like that, I’m just thankful I have them to remind me I can do it. I’m strong enough to push past my worries, my stress, and my anxiety. They remind me that I can do so much more than I ever thought I could. They make me be a better version of myself. And for that I am so thankful.
Until next time, Alyssia

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