This is a rant.
I am fed up with feeling crazy. Fed up with feeling like something is wrong with me, like I’m doing something wrong, like I can’t talk AGAIN about how I’m still having a hard time.
I’m sick of having a hard time.
I’m sick of having negative things to say. Sick of being such a big baby. Sick of my own excuses. I don’t need to feel ecstatic, I just don’t want to feel anxious or panicky, and I’d prefer to feel kinda content and peaceful, not depressed.
I don’t think that’s asking too much.
I don’t think it’s asking too much to feel like my husband doesn’t mind listening to me. I don’t think it’s asking too much for my kids to not drive me batty and to occasionally give me some space. I don’t think it’s asking too much to get to exercise and do yoga every day. I don’t think it’s asking too much for me to write two blog posts a week. And get good sleep, and take my supplements, and eat nourishing food.
Yet somehow all of these things are things that don’t happen. In fact, I haven’t exercised in several weeks. My kids climb all over me all day every day and I never do any yoga. I don’t feel like I can talk about my anxiety because my husband freaks out about it and constantly wanders off when I’m talking to him. It’s infuriating and isolating and makes me feel worse.
I have anxiety. I don’t respond well to elevated stress. I am not resilient. I am stressed. On days like today, everything makes me anxious and short of breath. I worry that I’ll have to have a panic attack later tonight to release all this tension. I’d really rather not go through that.
I am in perimenopause. This will come to an end one day, but probably not for about ten years. Still, that gives me hope. My hormones go up and down and my mood goes with them. I am not enjoying being such a ball of hormones but at least it makes sense. I am so tired of being so high maintenance. I can’t find the time for taking care of myself like I apparently need to. What is it going to take for me to find time for me?
I am not writing this for sympathy; in fact, sympathy would most likely infuriate me. I am writing this to admit it. I am writing this to de-pathologize it. Not everyone has anxiety and panic, but lots of people do. And even without the anxiety most every human being out there has days that feel like my day today. I am writing this for every other mom out there who is struggling today, because I know we all do, perhaps in different ways, but we all struggle. And I’m not crazy or even unusual for struggling, and neither are you.