I am anxious. I admit it.
There it is for all the world to see. Anxiety is awful. It robs you from what you should be happy for, celebrating for, enjoying…when your mind immediately leaps to the worst-case-scenario it’s absolutely downright awful.
This weekend, when everything seemed to be going haywire thanks to Theo’s strep I was ready to blame autism for the five days of uncertainty and meltdowns. And, yes, while autism did not play nice this weekend, anxiety sapped the life out of me. Gone. Goodbye. Stress had taken over.
On day five of this strep diagnosis, when Theo was better but not quite himself and running through the house like a bull in a china shop, it was Olena with an innocent comment about how coloring is “hard” — that pushed me right over the edge.
I had to leave my seat and barricade myself in the bathroom. Gasping for air. How can coloring be hard? Why does autism suck the life out of everyone?? And in between gasps I saw it…
The look in the mirror was someone I did not recognize.
Anxiety you dirty b*tch robbing me of my smile. My laughter. And, at this particular moment, an even breath. Hot tears streaming down my face and I thought what the hell am I doing?
I have grinded my teeth at night for years because of anxiety. (So bad at times I couldn’t eat in the morning.)
I have always worried about not fitting in.
I was always doing something, yet I never felt as if it was enough.
But here I am in the bathroom looking back at the tears streaming down my face and FINALLY at 42 years it hit me….
I am enough.
I am enough but I am anxious.
I am anxious.
I am anxious, but I am working on it.
And that is a step in the right direction.