Friday, September 25, 2009

Lunatic Fringe

It runs through my family, anxiety. It's something Miss 11 has been struggling with since she was 2 and we could not leave her with a babysitter, no matter who it was, believe me, we tried and tried and tried.

Inside though I know where her anxiety comes from. Once in a while, well, actually more frequently then I would care to admit, it builds up in me. I get to a point where everything makes me nervous or afraid. Typically my stress level has to be pretty high before I really start to feel it. Sometimes it's for no real reason. Sometimes it's for the little things that normal people don't even give a second thought. Most of the time I just let it bubble beneath the surface. I manage it just fine and the only person who ever knows how bad it is is Hubby. (And it drives him crazy, but he tries hard to be kind while letting me know that I am a lunatic!)

Yesterday Miss 11 had a cross country meet. I couldn't drive her there, so she was riding with her coach and 4 other girls. See a problem? Yeah, most people wouldn't, but I did. By noon yesterday I was shaking, I was scared, nervous and on the verge of tears. Miss 11 hadn't even left town yet. I knew, they'd be driving on a two lane road, through lots of rough hills and valleys, with a lot of oil truck traffic. I had just driven the same road last weekend and it was horrific with traffic, truck traffic. So my mind raced with possibilities and none of them were happy possibilities. My nerves were shot and I wondered how I let my mind travel to this place. I texted Hubby, who naturally reassured me, over and over and over again before he finally called. Then admitted he was at a loss to help me and I needed to relax.

Today I'm better, but I'm wired and worried about Miss 16 being on the road, going to a swim meet without being medicated for her heart and without me being there. (It will be the first this season, and only, Sunday we finally get to start her on new meds!) I feel my mind reaching for the same place it was yesterday, that place where all I can think about is the safety of my children, and the fact that I can not protect them and have them with me every second of the day.

I stew daily over Hubby being on the road, 30 minutes each way, to get to work. I worry about his profession and all the dangerous equipment he works with daily. Plus the fact that he insists on pushing himself beyond what most humans can handle.

I worry every day when Miss 16 backs out of the driveway. I worry about her backing into the ugly pick up that is CONSTANTLY parked right behind her car on the opposite side of the street. I worry about Mr 19 sleeping through his alarm at college, and without a room mate, who will wake him for class? I worry about Miss 11 and how difficult it is for her to make new friends. Worry.. worry.. worry...

I wonder where that line is, the one that runs between normal every day worries and the other side of anxious where there is that loss of control. I wonder if I am already on that other side and I just can't see it. Who decides what a normal amount of worry is, and what is worth worrying about? And when did I become this worrywart?


Ronica said...

Yes, it's genetic. I'm there, too. When J is out of town, I don't change the sheets or erase his voicemails. Stupid superstition, I know.

Mom was a worrier, too, but it also caused her to plan ahead. I knew all her plans for her death when I was in Jr. High, and unfortunately had to use them. But I was sure glad she worried about these things ahead of time. It made my job a lot easier.

Worth talking to your doc about. Life's too short to be miserable. That's one lesson your Aunt Judeen can teach you.

DeeAnn said...

yup, yup, yup. Right there with you guys. I can't even watch the news. ESPECIALLY not the Local News. It TERRIFIES me to know what's going on here and how many peoples have been hurt or killed, especially the children. See where I'm going... yep, my baby girl. And trying to figure out how to protect her when she goes to school, or even walking down the street (stray bullets you know) even though we are in a safe neighborhood. Sometimes that's what I blame my airheaded-ness on, I compartmentalize and try to block out the anxious thoughts. Then other things fall by the wayside. Maybe I need meds? Or humans just need to learn how to get along and be more careful. Ha, that's funny.