I'm Not Crazy

I always thought that the reason I was so anxious was because of my surroundings. The job I had, my children, the person I had chosen to share my life with, etc. There have been times in my life where I was truly happy even when my surroundings indicated I shouldn't have been. I recorded an album not long after my second divorce. I can genuinely say, I was at my lowest. I had no job, no money, and no place to go. I had to move in with my Mom, with two children...and a cat.

Once those chains had broken and I felt I could be me again, I could play my guitar, I could write a song, hell, I could make an album. The world was my oyster. I poured that anxiety out on paper. It was no longer in me. I could be free. Why can't I do that now?

Happy?

Things are much different now. I have two great kids, a job that I love, and I’m in a loving and committed relationship. I’m happy, I am...but I’m in a constant state of worry. I worry about things as big as buying a house and as little as a text message. I worry about the kind of mother I’m being to the kind of person I’m being in my every day relationships. I’m constantly worrying about losing my loved ones and my life as I know it. I worry about sleeping through my alarm or forgetting to buy milk at the store. And all of this can occur out of nowhere while sitting in my favorite chair. When the anxiety gets really bad, I simply can’t breathe. I wish it would stop.

An Outlet

Being a single mom is hard. Running a household by yourself is hard. It’s even harder when it’s all you can think about. When I had music as an outlet it didn’t matter how sad or anxious I was. I had an outlet. Sure, I could still write, but I feel little inspiration to do so. I have limited ways I can gain inspiration. COVID has taken that away. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Where do I find new inspiration? Where do I regain confidence?

I have no close female friends - it is pretty sad. I wrap myself up in my little universe and don't allow anyone to remotely come near it. Then I complain that I don't have any friends. It is all a vicious circle.

I can’t control the anxiety, but I can maintain it. At least I used to be able to. The first step is learning not to be embarrassed by it...embrace it instead. I’m trying...I really am.

I take medication, I have been in therapy. All of it masks the madness, it doesn't really stop it from happening. I have created my own mess, so here I lie in it.

I am definitely not alone. There are days where I feel alone. So, I read a book, listen to some music, or challenge myself to something new. All of it just covers up the madness. It does nothing to stop it.

There are so many others who share my pain. There are some who are worse off than I am. Yet, I sit here and complain about my life, as if that changes anything at all.

My cats are looking at me like I am crazy, that and it's feeding time. I have blathered on enough.

Life is too short to worry this much. I need to focus on this very fact. Goodnight