Posts Tagged ‘anxiety can suck it’

11:15 pm. I am laying in bed watching a movie featuring a gloriously good looking young man. I have to get up at 5:30am but I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, smushing my pillow this way and that under my head. I search for the cool spots on the bed with no luck, but I still keep our blanket covering most of me. I always sleep like that.

A familiar tingle runs up my spine and I pray that this wasn’t going to turn into a full blown panic attack. I feel my heart begin to speed up and I throw the covers off and sit on the edge of the bed, attempting to get my body back into control. I stand up and walk halfway down the hallway to the room that holds the two innocent lives that I am responsible for. I have to keep my shit together…I can’t lose it until someone else is here with them. I turn back and go into my bathroom instead, holding on to the counter for dear life. I look up into my reflection and see sheer terror in my eyes. I try to tell myself that I have felt like this before and didn’t die…but my head doesn’t listen. Everything in my body screams that this time is different. This time I will die.

I wish Jim was home.

I go down the stairs and turn the air conditioning up a few notches. I slowly walk back up the steps, trying to keep my heart rate from going any higher than it already is. My cell phone is tightly clenched in my fist, I need to have it near me in case I need it. I am headed back into my room when I decide to go in and look at the boys.

I step over the gate at their door and enter their room. I walk over to Jimmy’s crib first and gently rest my hand on his back. He arches against my hand and scoots his legs under his body bringing his little booty up in the air. I toss a light blanket over him and move on to Chase.

Chase has fallen asleep with 3 Matchbox Cars and a portion of their track. I pull all the toys out of his bed and slowly ease down beside him in his twin bed. Laying flat emphasizes how fast my heart is beating and my body is dying to get up. To move. To pace. Anything. I don’t move. I stay there and concentrate on the up and down of Chase’s chest. I concentrate on the warm weight of his head on my shoulder. I concentrate on them and once again, like so many other times, they save me.

It’s official. The countdown portion of my year has begun! The next 2 months are jam packed with craziness and I absolutely CANNOT wait.

Last Monday started my summer session of classes. I’m taking Abnormal Psychology and so far so good. All it is really showing me is how crazy my mother really is. But I knew that already, and it was reaffirmed to me today. Crazy. Some days I am seriously glad that I am adopted and none of that is in my genes. Gah.

Anyway…backtracking. The class is 6 weeks long or so, placing the end day as July 1st. I had to rearrange my work schedule to accommodate the class and found myself working 7 weekends in a row. Seven. BOO. However…at the end of the seven weeks come (drum roll please) A WEEK AT THE BEACH. Thank the sweet baby Jesus because I need a fracking break. For realz.

So we come back from the beach and then there is only a couple weeks until BlogHer! I am so excited to be going. Not just to meet these amazing people who are such a huge part of my life. Not just to juggle the bull’s balls with someone I can’t wait to booze with. Not just to be kid and husband free in my favorite city in the world. Not even just to Nom Nom on the cutest baby ever.

I am excited to be taking a step. A step away from the anxiety that has grounded me since 2005. A step away from being too afraid to put myself out of my comfort zone. A step that I should have taken a long time ago. A step that will probably take some xanax and some hand holding.

I think I just need one more thing. Some killer shoes.

I have an appointment next Monday that I have been putting off for a long time.

The Dermatologist.

When I was pregnant with Chase my skin went through some caaaa-razy changes. I stressed over each and every one at first, and then pretty  much just started ignoring all of them. Ya know…skin tags, blotches..all that highly glamorous stuff women deal with while growing a human.

However there was one skin occurance that was worrisome to me. A small lesion appeared on my chest, right between the ladies. When I say small..I mean SMALL. It is completely flesh colored, and much easier to feel than see. Over the last two years it has gotten bigger, but is still very small. There are actually three very small lesions of the same type there now. This is an area that I had frequent sunburns as a kid.

I ignored it and ignored it because that’s what I do.I don’t like going to the doctor and I like it even less when something could actually be wrong. I try to keep my head from running to the worst possible scenario but it does anyway. Google is not helping the situation at all, and for someone prone to panic attacks this is really just setting me over the edge.

I am praying that Dr.Skin has an answer for me. I am hoping there is something that he can tell me before he chops off a piece of my skin to be biopsied. If I have to wait for results with no indication of what is going on, I might truly lose it. I really don’t have it in me to deal with this. I’m emotionally exhausted and I can’t stop thinking about it.

What if I let it go too long?

What if it is cancer?

What will I do?

So people, I am asking for something I have never asked for before. I never thought I would ever ask anyone to do this for me.

PRAY.

Pray it’s a wart.

We are moving in 2 weeks.

Um. Holy Shit.

Originally we were all set to move on the 15th of December. Would have been challenging, but possible. 2 weeks? Not even close to being in the realm of possible.

I have 5 days off until the 1st. 5! One of those being Thanksgiving, so you know my FattyPattiness will be spending that day stuffing myself with all the yummy food that my mother in law will make. NomNom. No amount of packing will keep me from diving head first into my plate of mashed potatoes and gravy, and pumpkin pie.

So that leaves 4 good packing/productive days off. I am so excited to move, I really like the new house we are renting and I think it will be great for the boys. I am just so overwhelmed by the amount there is to do.

Not only do all the closets need to be packed…but they need to be gone through. I’ve been spending my mornings convincing myself that it’s OK to be donating all the teeny tiny baby clothes. That it’s OK that I am getting rid of the nursery decorations and am redoing their new room. That it’s OK that I gave away the swing and jumperoo. That it’s OK that all my size 4 jeans are being donated because this mama’s hips will NEVER go back to where they were, regardless of how skinny I become.

That it’s OK for them to grow up…and maybe us too.