Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Confessions of an Anxious Mum

I've just had a pretty crappy day. In my head. With the kids.

I can just feel it sometimes, before I even get out of bed. Today's going to be hard.

And then I stop myself in my tracks and berate myself for having those thoughts and tell myself I should be positive. And then I change my mind and think "No, it's okay. Accept your thoughts for what they are". Just thoughts. 

Thoughts are just thoughts until I act on them.

I can always dream, right?
More often than not, these morning intuitions are pretty accurate. Sure enough, this morning started bright and early with Master Joakim who couldn't find his car at 5.15am. Followed by Miss Letitia at about 5.45am whose duvet was all in a tangle and who was freezing. Then I lay in bed, unable to sleep. The more time passed, the more I debated actually just getting up and doing something fruitful that would get me ahead of the game today. But my tired body won and I finally went back to sleep mere minutes before the alarm went off.

As soon as the kids were up, they started bickering, and whining, and screaming like someone was torturing them when in fact their sock wouldn't fit just so. I finally got Miss L to school (on time!), and everything quietened down. It's funny how you take one number out of the equation, and everything changes. The balance shifts.

I breathed. 

My son and I did the groceries. We had a coffee and a fluffy to reward ourselves. That's our little Wednesday routine. We went home, put away the shopping. I was about to start making lunch when my son took my hand and pulled me towards his cars and the racing track,

I paused.

I had a choice. Either tell him once again that I was busy, or stop and play with my darling wee boy.

I stopped. 

We played for 15 beautiful minutes. I looked at my boy's smiles, I heard his giggles. My eyes wanted to eat him up and my ears were tingling with love. Waves of restoring love washed over me. All the hard moments are worth it.

After school pick up, the bickering, the fighting, and the shouting resumed. I ploughed on, that frown between my eyebrows, checking the clock every few minutes and wishing my husband would come home early. He did. Then he went for a run. My heart dived and sunk. I wanted to drop everything, take the car keys, and drive off. But then my heart came rushing back up for air. My head gave it a stern talking too. 

So much goes on between my heart and my head every day. This on-going and never-ending dialogue of feelings and thoughts, of should haves and did nots, of wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. But at the centre of it all is God, and He holds me together, always. He never lets me go.

When I put my son to bed, he held my head close to his, cheek against cheek, while I sung to him. Then I put my daughter to bed. She's started this thing where she tells me "I love you" over and over before she leaves for school or before bed, because she wants to be sure it's the last thing I hear from her before we're apart. I forgot the whining and the screaming, the bickering and the never-ending demands. 

Oh the pure sweet excruciating love bursting out of my chest in these moments. 

My first child is 6. My second child is 3 next week. I still suffer from Post-Natal Depression and Anxiety. Life goes on though. It's like a river, and where I'm at just now is pretty choppy and twisty, but hey, it's a lot better than the rapids and sharp bends I was struggling through a few years ago! And even though my sweet hubby may not see it every day, I know that I'm a better person today because of everything I've been through. I can love better, I can empathize better, I can understand better, and I can be there better.

I don't know where you're at in your parenting journey. But whatever you're experiencing, you're not alone. Kia Kaha! Be Strong!

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