Anxious Thoughts

I smile. I laugh. I say I’m okay.

I work hard. I do well. My life is good.

But, mom, I can’t help but feel alone at times. I can’t help but feel that nobody understands.

It’s no secret that I have struggled within my mind as my anxieties rampantly take over my thoughts. It starts out small, and dumb, and I know it probably won’t happen… but what if?

What if a car hits my toddler or my baby suffocates in her sleep? What happens if we go camping and some lunatic is out there? I’ve heard stories of kids disappearing in the woods. They never return. What would I do?

Did I leave the stove on? Is my dryer going to catch fire from the lint trap? What about my curling iron? I know I unplugged it and left it on a porcelain sink, but could my house still catch fire? What about water damage? I know we’re in a drought and my house is built high, but what if my tap turns on and fills my house? Or an earthquake. Or a shooting at the school.

Mom, what do I do if my husband gets hurt and doesn’t come home one day? Or we lose our jobs? We lose the house?

Mom, I’m tired. I’m so tired of these thoughts.

Today there was a softball game at school. Teachers vs. seniors. I asked my fellow colleagues if I could ditch the game, but they all said I should go. They didn’t know that I lost sleep over the thought of the game. They didn’t see in my head that I felt ugly, unhealthy, awkward, and not part of the team. They couldn’t feel my heart hitting my chest as I panicked watching that hard softball get thrown across the field. What if I got hit? What if I got injured? What if I made a fool out of myself in front of the whole school? My watch alerted me that I was stressed, I could definitely feel that, but I didn’t say anything out I fear of crying. 20 minutes in I left in a hurry. Nobody noticed and I cried in my truck as I tried to calm my anxiety attack. Maybe I should have thrown Prozac in my mouth this morning, but I hate those pills too.

It was a year ago, right before my second was born, that I began to take that pill. Did it work? Maybe. I know my anxiety lessened but so did feelings of happiness. I wasn’t often sad, mad, or glad. I didn’t want to be intimate with my husband. I felt bland, emotionless, like a robot. I wasn’t me but I took them anyways because my anxiety was getting out of hand.

How bad was it? Mom, when Nicole was born I had postpartum depression just as I did with Scott, but this felt different. It felt worse. My pills weren’t working and my fears of dead babies kept me up at night. What if I lost my newborn? What would I do? My body also felt like it belonged to something else. Yes, THING, as in I didn’t feel human or normal. I felt like a terrible mother, an awful wife, a lesser human being that didn’t deserve anything.

I lied on that survey nurses give in the hospital. I’m smart and marked the answers that showed I wasn’t crazy. I wanted others to think I was fine. Days went by though, then weeks, and I didn’t get better.

Crying one night in my bed, my husband held me and begged me to speak to him, to tell him what was wrong. It was so hard to say, so hard to bring the words to light, but I finally did.

My secret, mom, is that I wanted to die.

It’s exhausting to have all these thoughts in my head. To worry, then worry about being worried, which makes me worry more. I can’t shut my brain off and it doesn’t matter how real or unreal my worries are. They effect me greatly and it makes me think of ways out.

Maybe as I drive down the freeway, I can turn my steering wheel sharply and roll my truck. Or I could accidentally take too many sleeping pills. Maybe the .380 in my truck can be quick, or if I slit my wrists in the bathtub then cleanup would be easy.

As I write this I am sick as I can’t believe these thoughts have entered my head, but they have. That night I told my husband I wanted to die, he said I should talk to someone, but I refused. I knew if I brought this up, then family services would get involved and I worried they would take my babies away. Also what would our family and friends think? Would I be labeled crazy? A danger to myself? What would happen?

Just the other day, as a hard week turned into extreme anxiety, these thoughts entered my head again. I needed to calm down and get my mind off of life. Fearing for what might happen, I waited until I knew my husband was coming home and I pulled the Whiskey out of the cupboard. I know we don't drink, it's against the Word of Wisdom, but I needed something. I had that Whiskey for baking and cooking purposes, but at that moment I knew it could be for something else. I drank a couple shots with my stomach nearly empty and then I sat on the couch just as my husband walked through the door. He could take care of the children and I could decompress. It worked and I felt dizzy and numb as I cried on the floor. Luckily I had my companion there to comfort me or else I don't know what could have happened. I guess you didn't know that either.

So mom, I laugh, I smile, and I say I’m okay, and to an extent it’s all true. There are times though that I’m barely making it through. Those are the times when I refuse to be alone, and when I am I’m on the phone with someone or everyone. So please, I beg you, continue to always be there for me. I need your support and love so I can keep it together and raise my own kids. I know I’ll always be worried about something, but as long as you’re around, I think everything will be okay.