Should Be

I should be doing schoolwork right now.

The kids are all in bed for the night. The house is quiet and the laundry is caught up on but all I can think of is all the things I should be doing. The dishes. The writing assignment. Sweeping.

There is always something to do. There are always expectations to live up to. The should be train of thought can, and often does, quickly derail into the should have.

I should have cooked dinner instead of driving through at McDonald's. I should have taken that kids to that free event on Sunday that I wimped out on. I should have gotten that picture schedule done last month, the kids would be doing better if I'd just done that. I should have finished that assignment before the due date. For that matter....I should have finished school the first time around. Or the second. And I should have come out of the closet ten years ago.

Should.

I don't want to live a life of should bes or should haves. Should is nothing but a burden. Just over a year ago, my life was ruled by should. I felt suffocated by it. At some point the should's of society and religion and family became the voice in my head. Sure, I bucked it sometimes, if it felt safe enough to do so. But there were many many times when I simply operated under the guidelines that I'd developed over the years of what a good wife/mother/christian/student/worker should do instead of what was best for myself or my kids or my sanity.

Don't get me wrong, we all have to live up to our responsibilities. The kids need fed and watered, the house needs cleaned, and if I want to graduate (finally) I need to do my school work. I'm not saying that I'm advocating abandoning your obligations. However, I'm done beating myself up over the little things I do or don't do. If I want to drink a white chocolate mocha that has as many calories as a full meal, and read a book that has nothing to do with schoolwork, I am not going to pay for it later in guilt. And I'm not going to beat myself up for the big things that are in my past. I can't change those things, no matter how much I wish I could. So laying in bed thinking about what I should have done won't do anything but make me sleepy the next morning.

There are things I can do, things I will do, things I flat out won't do. But maybe I'm kicking should out of my personal dictionary. And I'm going to sit here in the silence and do a bit of online window shopping and netflixing before going to be bed. Because I can. Guilt free.

OK

His eyes are huge, framed by these long gorgeous lashes. And he looks up at me, face all innocence and voice like a little cartoon character. "It's ok buddy!"

He'd been bringing me the jug of milk and he'd lost his grip. The jug dropped to the ground and it made a loud thunk and I saw emotions flitting across his face in the flash of a second. First, surprise. Then for the briefest of moments, panic. And finally, by the time he looked at me, calm had kicked in. "It's ok buddy!"

He knew the words to say. He knew that his Mama would know it was a mistake. He comforted himself with the words he'd heard us say so may times. "It's ok buddy!"

And it was ok. No harm, no foul. I picked up the milk, poured him a glass, and his world was right again.

But I can't get that moment out of my mind. Today is a hard day. I'm in my head this morning, I'm worrying and overthinking and making mountains out of every problem. And just when I think that I want to curl into a ball and cry, his little voice pops into my head. "It's ok buddy!" And somehow, the words meant for him are now comforting me. I can just imagine him here, patting my back and giving me the kisses that my little Rascal is famous for. The picture, the memory of that little voice saying such simple words, brings a smile to my face.

Yup. It's ok buddy. Thanks.

Celebrate the Small

I do it all the time with my kids.

Licked a fruit? Celebrate!
Said a word? Party time!
Went to the bathroom? Let's have a freakin parade!!!

With a kid on the spectrum, you tend to celebrate a lot of small victories, because they are no longer small at all. The hurdles are high and it takes all that they've got to get over them. And when they make the leap and land on their feet, I'm there to applaud and rejoice and be proud.

So why can't I do that for my own bruised self?

I was abundantly vulnerable sharing my struggle with anxiety with you all. I don't know that I've ever received such an outpouring of love and support. You told me that I'm not alone. But I still find myself going through a whole lot of mental self abuse.

I make a phone call. And instead of celebrating the fact that I did it, I berate myself for struggling to make it in the first place. Big Deal, Anxiety Me says, So you did something that every normal adult does all the time. And I feel weak and childish for even feeling a moment of pride in the accomplishment.

And if the call doesn't go well? Oh, then I may as well call it a day.

Why do I do this? Why can't I take pride in overcoming my anxiety? Why do I make it another way to beat myself up?

I don't have an answer. But I do know that every day I celebrate victories for my children. I see them struggle so much, so seeing them succeed is even sweeter. Maybe I need to take a lesson from myself here. Maybe it is time to celebrate the small, for myself. Maybe, just maybe, I deserve it. I'll try to get that through to Anxiety Me.

The Things We Don't Talk About

You guys know I'm all about being real around here, so get ready for a big old dose of my reality.

I have an anxiety disorder. (Not sure what that means? Hop over here and get a quick overview)

Yes, it's a mental health disorder. Which means that people generally don't talk about it. And no, it doesn't mean that I'm just a little stressed out with everything (ahem, the three kids) and so I have anxiety.

It started around 2nd or 3rd grade for me. I called home from school several times a week with stomach aches, begging to go home. It got to the point where I had to practically be bleeding from the head to be allowed to go call my mom because I had stomach aches every single day. I know they must have thought I was faking it. But I really did have those stomach aches every day, they were a symptom of anxiety...I just wasn't old enough to understand that yet. I came to just think that's how things were, that I was supposed to walk around feeling like there was a ball of lead in my stomach.

The panic attacks started in puberty.

I've had a brief reprieve from anxiety, a couple of years where the knot in my stomach and the constant worrying were gone. But almost two years ago, it started creeping back. And that is why I am writing about it now.

My anxiety in the past few months has been the worst it has ever been in my life.

My anxiety manifests itself in a fear of calling people on the phone, generally. Yes, that may sound silly to you. Which is why I tend to not talk about this. But "simple" things like calling a doctor's office or a new friend can take a huge amount of effort on my part. This is always, always there...but when my anxiety is "down" I can manage it and make the calls without too much extra effort. When my anxiety is mild, I may have to work up to making the calls. When my anxiety is high, I can't make them.

That's how it's always been.

Well, these last few months have been a whole new level of crazy for me. I've always been able to call my mom, she is my best friend in the whole world. Well, it got to a point where I couldn't even call her. Then, I started being unable to answer calls. And then? Lately, I've been almost completely unable to answer texts and emails.

You have no idea how deeply embarrassed I am to even admit this. I know this makes no sense. I know I should be able to do these things.

The hardest part is that it has been affecting, well, everything. Mainly, our finances. Because, guess what my business requires me to do?? CALL PEOPLE. Every day. Not doing that has made my business pretty much dry up and completely go to dust. Which means that I haven't been able to bring in money. Which has increased my anxiety, because we kind of need that money to, you know, feed the kids. And the more anxious I get about being unable to do my job, the less I am able to do my job.

I have never felt more scared and helpless. It's like being stuck in a loop of self destruction.

So, why am I choosing to go public with such a private struggle? Well, two reasons, really:

Because I know I'm not alone. Maybe for you it isn't anxiety and phone calls, maybe you suffer from depression or some other mental health disorder. Even though I know I am not alone, I need to feel like I'm not alone right now, and I bet someone else needs that too.

And because I'm not above asking for help. Yes, I am in therapy right now. But, to really put myself out there, I need help restarting my business. For my local friends, if you think you can be of any help in that area please let me know. Otherwise, I want you to give me a call. Maybe not today (not sure I could handle 100 phone calls in one day!) but sometime in the next few weeks. I am going to work on answering my phone again, and making calls (so if you get a phone call from me soon, know that you are special to me!) My therapist says I just have to start facing it and break the fear cycle. May sound simple but I'm breaking out into a sweat just writing about it.

So, there you go. I've got issues, you guys. But while I may be afraid of picking up the phone, I don't ever again want to be afraid of talking about this. Because it is real and it is me and it should be nothing to be ashamed of.

Now, give me a virtual hug, I'm going to go eat some ice cream, writing this post has stressed me out.

The image I will be thinking of whenever I get on the phone this week: The road to wellness has a sunset of course