Merry Christmas, Anxiety Monster

It was really nice, how many of you responded to my half-joking, kind of sarcastic Story about parenting with an anxiety disorder.  I realized that perhaps by answering here, where everyone can read it, maybe just one less person will be left feeling neurotic and pathetic because of their imperfect mental health - 

I was diagnosed with an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.  I got that diagnosis while still fighting for a doctor to take my physical illness seriously.  It sounds rational, that fears would trigger panic, but in many cases they aren’t what most would consider a natural fear, or its a seemingly natural fear (spiders, drowning, big loud dogs) that a person blows way out of proportion.   Someone fearing drowning may never get in a boat, into a pool, or even that bathtub; hearing really heavy rain might make them panic.  For me, my fear is the loss of control.  

I hate flying, not because I’m scared of crashing and dying, but because I don’t get to decide when we stop, even if I really need to stop.  I get anxious going into dental work or surgery, because I have no control over the outcome.  My biggest fear, though, as far as anxiety goes, is being sick, and losing control of my own body (that’s also why I don’t drink or do recreational drugs).  

It’s ironic and DEMONIC, that my biggest panic trigger has also always been my most severe symptom of Endometriosis.  I was always nauseous or throwing up or dealing with diarrhea, and I was always so fucking anxious.  I would get sucked into the most horrifying cycle of my sickness making me anxious, and my anxiety making me sick.  I’d move into the bathroom for days at a time, in a heavy Gravol and Ativan fog. 

Why is barfing so scary?!  Everyone does it!  And it’s not even the awful physical feelings that set me off...it’s the fact that if I’m going to be sick, I’m going to be sick, and I can’t stop it.  I have no choice.  It needs to come out whether I’m ready for it to, or not!  But it goes a little further for me, which is where the neurotic and pathetic feelings kick in.  

Yesterday a girlfriend told be she’d gotten hit by the tummy bug, and I instantly got prickly and warm, regardless of the fact that I haven’t been with her in weeks!  There’s no way I could have gotten her germs!  But then my husband goes out with her husband last night, and her husband gets hit this morning...so I spent the day, tense, and avoiding all kisses and snack sharing.  Reminding myself that it’s not like our husbands were making out the night before, and also preparing myself.  

‘Just in case’ is a mega coping mechanism of mine; make sure the toilets are clean, that my little drug drawer is full, that there’s ginger ale and apple juice in the fridge.  It definitely didn’t help that I was already nauseous, because it’s the end of the month, and that’s just who I am at the end of the month.  

We went to wander around Christmas lights this evening, and honestly, fresh air is SO good for an anxious brain.  I’d avoided taking an Ativan before going, because I was already so tired, but on our way home I took one.  In Starbucks, after my child said his tummy felt weird...and later that he was too full for his apple chips, and then he got real snuggly, which is wonderful, but made me panic because he’s whiny lately, not sweet and snuggly.  

I’d taken a few sips of my latte then packed it up to take home to my fridge, because I didn’t want to waste it by finishing it and then puking.  I put my kid in the car sans jacket etc..less things to wash if he ended up puking, and I checked ‘how are you feeling?’ every few minutes during the ride home.  He fell asleep.  And went right to sleep when we got home.  He’s not sick, he’s just exhausted.  Right?!  

I sat, coloring, in the kitchen until midnight, too anxious to sleep, and waiting just in case he woke up sick.  Because wake up sicks are the worst.  And now I’ll lay in bed, with our doors open so I can hear him snoring, and hopefully I’ll fall asleep.  And hopefully none of us barf.  

We’re not going to barf.  We’re fine.  And even if we are going to get sick, we will be fine.  Christmas will be fucked, but we’ll be ok.  I will be ok.  I have survived every single sick day, so why does even the mention of a sick tummy make me spin and sweat and over prepare, just in case?  Because I have an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.   And now you know!

Ps.  For the record, I actually appreciate being notified when friends have been sick, especially if we have been in some kind of physical contact over the last few days, or are planning on being together.  I don’t want you thinking that warning me will drive me into a nervous breakdown!  Most days I can just take a few deep breaths, and I appreciate being able to prepare ‘just in case’.  

Truth Time

I have been going through something, and as much as an open book as I pride myself on being, I’ve kept it to myself as much as possible. I’m still trying to work out why, but it felt right at the time.

It’s been a long few weeks, but this last week was the very bottom of it. And it’s because between doctors being on holidays, and me just plain procrastinating, I went two days without my meds, a week and a half ago ago.

If you’re thinking that doesn’t sound like a big deal, I was right there with you. Two little days! Two little days is all it took to remind me how fucking powerful these pills are, how fucking necessary they are FOR ME, and how fucking thankful I am for them.
It’s taken me much longer then I’d assumed to mentally come to terms with the losses our family has felt over the last few weeks, then PMS hit hard, then suddenly it was August which meant I only had a month left as a full time stay at home mom, and I felt depressed for the first time in years. Of course death and huge life changes are things that anyone would naturally pair with some degree of depression, but being off my meds took it to a very unnatural level. There was an overwhelming fatigue for a few days, my nerves just screamed for my bed while wrangling a sweaty toddler all day. And I cried, so much. And then the withdrawal kicked in.

Yes, two days is all it took for my body and my brain to start panicking and searching desperately for the one thing that has successfully kept shit in order for more then 12 years. Restless Leg Syndrome was certainly the most obvious withdrawal symptom, and when you’re not sleeping properly, depressed or not, nothing is right in the world. Every night for a week I’d lay in bed crying while I twitched and stretched my muscles, then I paced the living room for a half hour before going back to bed to cry and twitch again. I was beyond irritable, beyond unmotivated, and just felt empty. Amidst all the crying, though, (seriously, so much crying) I was also reminded of how lucky I am; not only do I have a remarkably supportive family that let me nap when I could, and friends who checked in on me, I’ve also found enough self confidence to be medicated.

So many people struggle through every day, unnecessarily, because society has convinced them that turning to a prescription is weak and that NEEDING help with their mental health makes them less-than. It hasn’t always been easy for me, of course. I started my meds in high school after an episode of Oprah made me realize That how I’d been feeling was called Depression, and told no one. A few years later someone who was a best friend told me they didn’t Want me around their child anymore, after finding out I had panic attacks and took ‘drugs’.

The stigma is a motherfucker, and I know that it robs far too many good people of a better life. Especially moms. Moms who already question every parenting decision and compare themselves to every other mother on the planet and are made to feel like they need to live up to these epic standards that no one’s ever actually seen before... ‘You have a beautiful child, how can you be depressed?’ ‘How can you take care of your kids if you have panic attacks every time you feel sick?’

It’s scary, admitting you can’t do LIFE on your own. Everyone experiences the death of loved ones, job stress, the parenting rollercoaster, breakups and divorces, car accidents and unexpected financial woes... And it’s too easy to assume that EVERYONE else just does it, they just power through and they deal. Everyone else makes it look so easy, so I shouldn’t be struggling. But I hope that someone out their takes some kind of comfort in the fact that I am not everyone else.

I am doing it, powering through and dealing, but I am also medicated. I am a wife and a really great mother, and I am also medicated.  I am a really worthy human being, who just happens to be medicated. 

I’ve been taking my meds nightly again, for 8 days, and with the help of a new RLS prescription and an Ativan, I finally slept last night. Sleep is life changing. And so are the drugs. And things are finally looking up again. When the people we love pass away, it haunts us on and off, possibly for the rest of our lives, and I am still dealing with overwhelming feelings regarding Kindergarten, but at least I’ve got a stable starting place, again.


Ps. Please know that if you are one of those people who are able to take what life throws at you and conquer it naturally, I am so happy for you, and so proud of you. But, if you are someone who’s asked for help, I bow down to you because I know it’s not the easy way out. And if you are one of those people that are stuck in the middle, hurting but thinking it’s too late to seek treatment, it isn’t. It never is. We all deserve a fair chance at facing the day, and I’ve concluded that that’s what my medication is.

But Seriously

I told a friend that I was taking me and my morning sickness out for ‘breakfast’ this morning, and of course she excitedly asked if I was pregnant. Lol, we’re not close friends, clearly, but it reminded me of a bone I have to pick with all of you. You, being society in general.

How come we still feel it’s appropriate to comment on a woman’s postpartum body, or their postpartum life?

I’m nearly 4 years postpartum, but it still irks me.

A week ago we attended my Mother In Law’s funeral. (Insert deep breaths here) Attending a funeral always comes with polite pleasantries with people you know of but don’t know, and between all of the sweetest comments and memories being shared I was shocked by how many times my body and my life as a mom were brought up.

I was told, ‘If I had a kid that cute I’d have 5 more!’ and ‘If I didn’t have to go back to work, I’d have at least one more kid!’ and my personal favorite, ‘If my body looked like that after being pregnant, I’d have 3 more!’ I understand that all of these things slip through mouths meant as a compliment, so I’ve learned to smile or giggle and nod instead of screaming ‘I'VE BEEN SICK FOR 12 YEARS AND I DON’T HAVE A UTERUS ANYMORE SO FUCK OFF PLEASE!’  But.  Friends.  We need to raise our level of consciousness and think for just one extra second before saying such things.

And because I’m currently on my own with a latte I didn’t make myself, breathing outside air deeply, I’m going to take a sec to address these few things..

1 - How cute YOU think a child is literally has nothing to do with how big a family is going to grow to be!

Is society still this shallow, that instead of commenting on how well behaved our toddler is being while stuck in the midst of a boring visitation full of crying adults, we’re talking about how attractive he is? And we’re talking about it as if it’s really a deciding factor? I can admit that I throw that ‘they’d make beautiful babies together’ line around, but never to someone’s face, and never in the sense that they SHOULD make babies because they’d be beautiful.

Our A+ genetics have absolutely nothing to do with why Boden is an only child. And as much as I chose to only have one, I didn’t really get the choice, and being reminded of that at any time, never mind at a time I’m already over emotional, will always sting. We have no idea why one family is teeny and another is huge.

A tip - Please feel free to remind me that, ‘shit your kid is cute!’ anytime you want, but unless you’re genuinely asking about our choices as a family, it’s safest to just avoid commenting on his non-existent siblings.

2 - I feel so goddamn lucky to have spent these last nearly-4 years at home with Boden. So goddamn lucky. Even on the days that I have to lock myself in the bathroom, or the days I cry because I know I can’t yell at him, or the days I cry because I’m just so freaking exhausted and unmotivated, I go to bed feeling so lucky. And I know that it’s a privilege, that not everyone can afford to stay home once Mat Leave ends (and don’t get me started on the lack of Mat Leave that my American friends get). But it’s way too easy to assume that finances are the only reason a mother chooses to stay home instead of returning to work.

We are VERY comfy as a family, but I am well aware of how much comfier we’d be if I’d gone back to work 3 years ago. And there have been so many days that I wish I was at work instead of at home, or more so that I wish I could work instead of being at home.

As soon as it was done growing and nourishing a new human, my body turned on me, again. When I wasn’t feeding or changing or waking up 39 times a night with my baby, I was in the bathroom sick and crying. You know, I actually tried, and failed to work after Boden turned 1.  I took my most favorite kid (next to my own) all day while her parents worked, for a few months. But I was too sick. I loved her with my whole heart and I loved her and Boden together, and I don’t think any other job would have made me happier, but I just couldn’t.


Since giving birth I’ve undergone and recovered from 3 surgeries because of my Endometriosis. That alone doesn’t leave much time to be gainfully employed.
I am lucky, and I think all moms (or dads) who stay home with their kids are lucky, but again, please don’t assume that’s the whole story.

A tip - It’s very ok to say, ‘It’s so nice you get to spend these days with him.’ Or! For bonus points, ‘Being a stay-at-home mom is such a hard job, and you’re doing SO good!’ You can make a comment or a compliment without making an assumption.

3 - Don’t get me wrong, I know that so many women struggle to lose the baby weight, and my lack of a waist can be envied and seen as lucky. I get that. But unless we are best friends who discuss such personal things, I don’t get why anyone comments on it.

Postpartum recovery does likely play a part in a woman’s decision to have more kids. Some women love being pregnant, and some women’s bodies respond much faster and easier then others after giving birth. Honestly, if I hadn’t been SO sick while pregnant, and I hadn’t had such a traumatic labor and delivery, I would have considered trying for another one before my Hysterectomy a little heavier. Women are allowed to consider 1000 different things when choosing whether or not to have kids, but no one else is allowed to comment on those things. Especially the way she looks. How do we not KNOW this by now?

Some of it is luck, in my case. Luck/ genetics. My mom had 3 of us, and she’s got a smokin bod, and I definitely think that plays a part. But what was the main reason I was so skinny so soon after gaining 40+ lbs while pregnant? It was the puking and the shitting and the nausea that left me with a minimal appetite. It was a disease. And none of that has ever felt lucky. Ever. I promise that I’d rather be 10lbs heavier right now, then as nauseous as I am this morning, and I’ve always struggled with the fact that that’s so hard for so many people to understand.

A tip - Whether it’s luck or genetics or illness or the fact that a mom has worked her fucking ass off at the gym every morning, it’s just wrong to equate her body with how many kids she should have.

You can tell a mom, ‘You look amazing,’ even if she knows she actually looks tired and hasn’t changed her shirt in 3 days! You can (and should!) compliment a mother without bringing her weight into the conversation! You can make her feel good about herself without making the woman next to her feel like she shouldn’t have more kids just because she hasn’t lost all the baby weight!

Or just talk about the weather, instead!