Me

Anxiety.  Just seeing the word makes me anxious.  I'm not sure if I've gone a day in my life without feeling it.  I'm sure everyone feels anxious sometimes....I hope everyone feels anxious at some time - otherwise I'm in more trouble than I thought.  Anxiety is a normal part of life; but when it consumes you and affects your day to day interactions - it's an issue.  I have an issue.

    When I was 6 months old I was hospitalized for 3 days in an oxygen tent with RSV. I only, and I mean ONLY stopped crying if my dad put his hand on my wilted, fragile back.  He couldn't hold me because I was confined to my tiny cell but he could touch me. One night, some well-intentioned nurse insisted my dad leave me to get a cup of coffee.  He recalls stepping off the elevator only to hear my screams at the other end of the hall.  He rushed into my hospital room with his tepid coffee to see the same well-intentioned nurse frantically trying to calm me.  Only daddy could rescue me. My father now has a theory that that illness scarred me. It literally changed me.  

     I've dealt with anxiety ever since I could remember. I couldn't walk to school without crying. My younger brother walked me to the corner to meet my friends - two boys from the neighborhood who were my own private escorts;  my knights in shining zooba pants and striped socks. They hated walking with me.  They would roll their eyes at my tears but they never teased me.  Somehow they knew I couldn't help it and at 5 years old would just fall apart if provoked.  

     My life was full of anxieties.  My mom used to say things were always harder for me.  Everyday occurrences would turn into heart-wrenching panic attacks - even at 5 years old.  I wouldn't let my own mother walk me to school because "it would just be harder when we got there."  I would get up several times during the night to make sure my homework was still in my backpack. My mom bought me winter galoshes that I could slip my sneakered foot into because what if I forgot my sneakers? What if I couldn’t get them on? What if they were on the wrong feet?  Disaster.   I couldn't wear pants with zippers or snaps - don't even mention belts! - what if I couldn't undo them in the bathroom and what if no one would help me?  I wore only sweatpants.  Not only was it exhausting being me and having to worry about everything from pants to homework to sneakers but it was exhausting to be my parent too.  They tried to make life easier - buying me Velcro sneakers so I wouldn't panic for example.  My dad turned down a job offer because it would have required us to move 2 hours away and my mom knew I couldn't handle that kind of change - I was 5.  At the resilient age of 5 my parents knew it'd be too traumatic for me to move.  I can't say they weren't right.  

    In 7th grade my parents did move us from a public school to a catholic school.  Being a new kid is always hard but being a new kid with an unusual amount of fear and anxiety is devastating.  My dad drove us because I was afraid to take the bus.  What if the driver took us to the wrong school? What if I miss the bus? What if the driver takes us to the wrong house?  For the first 6 months at my new school I brought my lunch everyday including milk because I was too anxious to buy it at the lunch counter.  If I'm only buying milk do I skip the line and go right to the milk crate? How do I even go about buying lunch? What if I don't want everything the lunch lady offers?  Exhausting.

    In high school, it was no different. I actually looked forward to test days because the teacher wouldn’t call my name to answer a question or complete some ridiculous calculus problem on the board. (that calculus class is a post for another day). I dreaded the inevitable “Ann O’Connor, please come to the board.”

     When it came time for college I nearly died from anxiety and worry.  I went to college 45 minutes from home and was unable to live in the dorms freshman year.  I commuted. Every. Day.  My sophomore year, my younger brother (same one who walked me to the corner) joined me at Fredonia so I was able to at least stay on campus (for a while).  He was my savior.  He actually walked me to class because what if I couldn't find the building the class was in and was late? or missed it!? Exhausting.  The worry was exhausting.  It's a goddamn miracle I graduated.

     As an adult, it didn't get much easier.  What gets easier is coping.  I learned to cope.  And I can cope pretty damn well.  Though maybe it's not coping so much as hiding but is there really a difference? As a teacher I'd check three things every day at least 8 times before I left the classroom - Did I close and lock all windows? Is my computer shut down?  Did I lock my desk drawer with the students' personal information? No less than 8 times that had to be checked because obviously the day I don't check it 8 times is the day someone will use my classroom window to break in, use my computer to hack into our schools' files and steal the children's IEPs. It's so ridiculous it's comical.  But it's my life.  Everyday. Every. Fucking. Day. And these are just a few examples. 

      But what's even funnier is things that make normal people anxious really don't bother me.  Like driving in the snow - no problem!  Daughter that climbs to the top of the jungle gym - more power to ya! Heard a crazy noise outside that's probably a serial killer waiting to saw my head off with a butcher's knife - meh.  I'll go check it out.

      People who have known me my entire life can't believe I actually sought out a mommy group on my own....or started my own business - with stuff I hand make nonetheless!  All very out of character behavior. What if no one likes it? What if it's crap? What if the mommy group doesn't like me? Or my kid?  I didn't just step out of my comfort zone - I bull-rushed that zone and ran it over with a tractor trailer then backed up and did it again.   See, accomplishing something, anything, is always an extra step for me.  I have to overcome the debilitating anxiety first and then overcome normal feelings and obstacles. Am I proud of myself? damn right I am. But I'm prouder that I defeated my anxiety to accomplish it.  It's a pride I take on solo for no one lives in my head but me. And no one knows my struggle but me.  So I take these small feats and celebrate them silently because to the average person they're no big deal.   For me though, I may as well have cured cancer or discovered life on another planet.  That’s how I feel every time I do something I never thought possible, whether it's just getting out of bed or starting up a business- something that little Annie in the O2 tent would be proud of.

         My anxiety has taught me many things though.  Mainly that I'm stronger than I think but must stay on my toes lest the anxiety monster rears its ugly head.  My family is amazing.  My husband is amazing.  I learned who my real friends are through the years.  It's hard to be friends with someone who constantly worries.  Luckily I've mastered the art of hiding it - well - until this blog gets published of course. I've met some pretty awesome mommy friends too.  And now you know part of my story.  My very personal, scary, sometimes sad story. I’ve never shared it formally until now – and I just scratched the surface.  Yikes.
     Fortunately, I'm learning that I am enough.  I am enough dammit.  I'm a good mom, wife and friend. I love with all my heart and try my best at everything.  I'm a rockstar. An anxious rockstar...but a rockstar!