Today, DH and I took a day off to spend with our almost four year old (birthday tomorrow). In all the hopes of it being a good day, we started it out as any other normal day in our household. Full of chaos. Sometimes I wonder if any day can be filled with glitter and unicorns. It would be nice to have two cooperating chillens who can listen to us, and do the things they know they need to do: potty, hands, teeth, dressed. We say that like drill sergeants every.single.day. And yet, these two little humans, with minds of their own, act like what we ask is the first time they have heard it.
I know, I know, this is the common bitch about parents trying to navigate parenthood. But, I wonder if the issue is us and not them.
Why is it in our society, we are always rushing to the next thing? We are like robots: getting our kids ready for the day and feeding them, and somehow we manage to get our shit together and out the door. Kids go to school, we go to work (work our tails off), then I’m rushing to get home to cook, feed, and get the kids to bed. It’s pure chaos all.the.time. After a week of this, we just wish for the weekend to arrive; we can relax as a family before the chaos ensues again. *insert glitter and unicorns here* Of course the joke is on us, because the weekend is full of the same chaos as the weekdays, but we are home together all the time.
I wish time can slow down, and I wish things can be how I hope them to be at times. With the chaos of every day life, I wonder why I clench my jaw (when I actually notice when I’m doing it). Or, how I can no longer fully let go in relaxation. I’m tense. I’m rigid. And I’m wound tight and wonder why I have a short fuse box.
This is my every day life with anxiety. I never noticed it before until the pandemic. And frankly, maybe the pandemic is what put the anxiety in overdrive. Last year, my oldest son had a situation that happened to him. And in turn, it happened to me. I felt helpless. Thankfully, no long term affects seem to have been done, and he’s getting the help he needs. But, for me, that was the cherry on top to send me to the hospital twice for panic attacks. I’ve never experienced one in my life.
Panic attack #1: I was driving alone in the dark, and on a country road. One side of my hand went numb. I continued to drive. I had shadows appear in my eyes. Again, I continued to drive. My heart started racing, and I quickly felt like I was going to lose consciousness. I pulled into the first driveway I could find, blared my horn, and dialed 911. My pulse was at 140. The ambulance took some time to get to where I was, so I called my husband. I have learned he is not the person to call when you are in a crisis. He started to freak out that he didn’t know where I was or where my car would be left. I got off the phone as quick as I could, stumbled out of the car, and found the house address. Thankfully I knew the road I was on, so he could find my car. The medics arrive and put oxygen on me and asked if I’ve ever had a panic attack before. They took me to the nearest hospital to get checked out. Of course all was well, so I chalked it up to a super scary fluke.
Panic attack #2: It’s a Saturday and I’m watching tv with the kids. The husband is upstairs taking a shower. It’s like a light switch was turned on and I started to have pain in my left arm. Soon after, my pulse starts to increase quickly, and I have the same feeling of passing out. I run up to the bathroom to tell my husband what’s going on, and he asks if he should call the ambulance. I tell him no, trying to fight the fear of a heart attack out of my head. My pulse is at 140 again and holding steady. I lay on the floor to try to calm myself down, but the fear of an impending heart attack scares the shit out of me. After 10 minutes of my pulse elevated, I call my mom to stay with the kids so I can go to the ER. My DH drives me, and it felt like the longest ride of my life. After a 5 hour stay, I’m discharged in good health and told me to see my primary doctor to maybe have a referral to a cardiologist.
My DH and I got in the car. I told him that if my cardiac tests check out, I want to go on anti anxiety meds. I can’t continue to have these attacks and wonder if I’m dying. God forbid, I’m driving with the kids in the car when another one hits. My husband is NOT a believer in these meds, but even he agreed with my thoughts.
I got the results of my stress test and echo a few weeks later. All was clear and I was at low risk of a cardiac event. I should have been happy. But, my reaction was to break down and cry. DH was confused and said it was good news. I agreed, but that meant that what I experienced was panic attacks and I felt like I’m crazy. I wasn’t hoping for some terminal heart condition, but I was hoping for some glimmer of an explanation. There wasn’t any. Or, at least an explanation I wanted to hear. I had anxiety and I needed to try to manage it.
Starting to take a low dose of anxiety meds has made my life so much better. I quickly realized I was suffering when I shouldn’t have been. They don’t make me full of glitter and unicorns, and I still struggle each day with the chaos. But, even through my clenched jaw and tense shoulders, I’m able to plug through the motions without having a crying meltdown wondering what happened to my life. I’m trying to slow down. I’m trying to breathe through it all, and try to enjoy the imperfect life I’m living. I love my kids. I love my husband. We aren’t perfect, and every morning is pure chaos. Maybe the glitter and unicorns will rain on me one day. But, I’m accepting that may never happen, and I’m trying to learn to be okay with that.