- a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.
The very word that my life revolves around. The word that leaves me questioning my every move and every thought. The word that badgers me. Humiliates me. Infuriates me. BREAKS ME.
Not only do I have to deal with repetitive thoughts of obsessiveness, but it limits me.
Limits me as a mother.
I question myself and my parenting skills…every…single….day.
Why can’t I just answer my kids without that tone? Why do I get so damn ANGRY for the smallest things? Does my husband understand that I can’t give him a reasonWHY I’m acting this way?
I used to be peppy, and happy and always doing something goofy. I had inspiration.I had goals. I had a purpose.
But when anxiety came for a visit…I guess it liked it’s stay and signed a lease for what seems like….forever.
Now, I can’t speak up.I struggle with too many noises all at once. I shy away from everything. I can’t give my own opinion without regretting it after.
I never use to be super confident but damn…I miss the little bit that I had.
3 years into marriage, my husband knew I needed to see someone. He saw that I wasn’t his girl anymore. I was someone new. Someone…lost.
I had my first-born at the time and all that mattered was her. All I wanted to do was to be a ” cool, calm, and collected” mom. So, I agreed to go to therapy.
Going in I thought to myself…how in the world is someone else going to tell me what is wrong? I’m just talking to a stranger. Everything in this field is after all a hypothesis. This is only for WEAK minded people.I’m NOT weak.
She asked me a few questions…you know…to get a feel for my situation at home.
I told her how I don’t live near family but mostly near my husband’s family. How I don’t feel comfortable leaving my house without the car because I feel like someone will probably end up trying to hurt my kids and I. How when I do take the car I do the sign of the cross as a ritual to keep us safe from accidents.
I told her that sometimes I CAN’T BREATHE.
Like an elephant is always sitting on my chest. How there are times where I just want to scream because my mind is going 100+ mph and the only way it helps to relax is just….to cry.
I cried. I sobbed. I broke down.
This wasn’t supposed to happen TO ME. My mother raised me to be a strong and independent woman….so why did it happen when I needed to be the strongest? Why did it happen when I had my daughter?
My kids need me the most and I’m being completely absent-minded at times. Every time I blink, my babies are taller and older….and I can’t focus on it.
It tears me apart.
I mean, why did it worsen? I think I had it for a few years but never like this.
She asked me to come in weekly. And of course I agreed.
After a few months…I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t seeing any results.My mind tells me ” If you can’t get better within a few visits then you’ll never get better.”or” Maybe you aren’t sick”.
But…here I am.
The very word that my life revolves around.
The word that leaves me questioning my every move and every thought.
The word that badgers me.
The word…that defines me.
Do you know guys suffer from any anxiety or PPD? How are you handling it? Have any resources to share with anyone that suffers from it? Comment down below and share this with others. Feel free to email me or start a thread.
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