The Anxiety Monster has my entire being in an absolute choke hold.
I tend to retreat and fold in to myself in an attempt to keep Anxiety at bay. It’s a hell of a lot easier and way less scary to pretend everything is okay and ‘normal’.
Anxiety has been ramping up to rear it’s ugly head for a while now.
I thought I had things under control after the last time Anxiety came around in June. When my parents’ divorce was finally final. I had closure after four and a half years of separation, the last year of which had been a less than amicable back and forth in mediation.
It was the end of an era and one I was glad to see. There was no more wondering. No more back and forth. No more are they or aren’t they going to ever get divorced.
It was done.
It was handled.
It was final.
And it was wonderful.
Then came August.
B was suddenly laid off from his job of 8 years.
We went from a mostly-comfortable 1 and a half income family to a half income family. Holy shit.
We had a few days to find, pay for and secure health insurance.
An absolute must for B’s epilepsy medications that run a few hundred dollars a month with insurance.
How in the hello were we going to afford to pay our mortgage and keep food on the table after our Oh Shit fund ran out on my two days a week at work?
Short answer, we weren’t.
B put in applications at any and every place he could think of and landed a job through a temp agency driving a forklift. From 6pm-4:30am four days a week.
It was an amazing relief to have some sort of income coming in, but there are no guarantees that this will turn in to something permanent. But now I am tasked with keeping an almost 3 year old subdued during the day so Daddy can sleep. Lack of sleep is a HUGE trigger for B’s seizures. Cue extra stress. I am also the sole care provider for our son at the moment. B comes home from work, eats, takes a shower and goes to bed. He can usually sleep until 3-4p which doesn’t leave him much time with D Or me for that matter… and I’m usually asleep when he comes home in the morning. Come 5 o’clock he’s getting ready for work and out the door. I’m the one responsible for getting D dinner, playing with him until bath or bed time and getting him to sleep. Once he’s down for the night, I’m done. I check out. There is nothing left in the tank emotionally. I just can’t anymore. It’s exhausting keeping up with D and pretending like Mommy’s insides aren’t a complete cluster you-know-what. I’m tired of going to bed alone. I’m tired of feeling alone period.
I have to give B major props.
My husband is one of the most hard working men I know. He could have rolled over and given up, but he didn’t. He did anything and everything he could to provide for his family. That isn’t exactly the example of a husband and father I had and it blows me away.
And so our house is a mess. I don’t feel like I can do loud housekeeping things while either one of the boys are sleeping. And frankly, I don’t want to do it.
Today, shit is hitting the fan. Anxiety Monster is front and center. I feel like I’m vibrating and I can’t get on top of it.
My sister is getting married, which is wonderful, amazing news! I am so incredibly excited for her I can hardly stand it.
But my father has no idea.
It’s no secret that Daughter #3 wants nothing to do with our dad. That’s her choice, it’s her relationship and I’m not in her shoes. I can’t tell her how to feel or what she should or shouldn’t do when it comes to our Dad. If only that were reciprocated…
Someone incredibly important to her is walking down aisle.
Someone our father vehemently dislikes. He was present when Dad was asked to leave/kicked out and I don’t think my father will ever forgive him for that, which isn’t fair. This man was looking out for my mother, my sisters and me. He is a loving, caring man and we are all lucky to have him in our lives. He stepped up to show all of us fatherly love when we weren’t getting it from our own dad. I will always love him for that.
My father has no idea and I almost spilled the beans today when he was over for our Monday coffee time.
Daughter 3 getting married isn’t my news to share. It’s hers. If and when she chooses to let him know.
It’s only a matter of time until he hears it from her or someone else. Frankly, I’m astounded that he hasn’t heard it through the grapevine. Every time he comes over I brace myself for him asking if what he heard is true.
I have experience in this. When Daughter #4 was graduating from high school, she didn’t want Dad to know. I told her and our Mom that I wasn’t going to tell him where and when the graduation ceremony was, but if asked I wasn’t going to lie to him.
Daughter 3 getting married is life-altering. In the best way possible.
And Dad doesn’t know.
I have a ticking time bomb of information.
I’m desperately afraid it’s going to blow up in my face. I’m terrified that my father is going to hold it against me that I knew and didn’t tell him. That I knew who was walking his daughter down the aisle and I haven’t warned him it’s coming.
I’m terrified he’s going to hold it against me and it will damage our relationship. He is scary good at holding grudges.
It’s not my news to share.
But it’s eating me up inside.
I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.
It’s all feeding the Anxiety Monster and I really wish it wasn’t.
I’m purging all the feels into this post in an attempt to keep the monster at bay. I’ve deep cleaned my living room in an attempt to deep clean my brain and my heart. I have big plans for cleaning the kitchen to keep my brain and body occupied so I don’t have to think or feel.
I will make it through today and I’ll eventually come out the other side.
But right now.
In this moment.
The Anxiety Monster is winning.