This isn't one of those Buzzfeed lists where I'm trying to say "EVERYONE IS LIKE THIS!!! OMG CLICK THE BAIT! CLICK IT!!"
This is a list of awful, stupid, and ridiculous things that make me anxious. Here we go!
1. Tests, of the medical variety. If I finally feel something is wrong enough to go to the doctor to get it checked out I automatically assume I'm either crazy and imagining everything or I'm dying. There is no in between.
It's actually kind of hilarious because I always end up with some sort of "in between" diagnosis. Like "You sprained your ankle enough that we think you should get an MRI." "We got the results and your ankle is messed up, but not enough for us to do anything about it unless it gets worse. Good luck!"
This happens all.the.time.
2. People. Pretty much all of them, except the ones I'm related to, married to, or the few friends I consider family. Acquaintances are probably the worst, next to large groups of brand new people, of course.
You don't really know where you stand with them. You know each other well enough to say hi at the grocery store, but just not quite well enough to feel comfortable asking about their recent bout of stomach flu or if they ever got that mole looked at. You also can't ask about their kids or pets or spouses because there is a really good chance you can't remember any of their names.
Unless your friends on Facebook and they, like me, post often. Then you might seem totally creepy when you ask if their mom is recovering okay from her surgery for her gout or if they remember where they got the duvet cover on their bed because it's gorgeous but you've never actually been inside their house.
Strangely, after an initial meet and greet with a potential doula client I didn't already know I'm pretty good. I'm also kind of ridiculously calm while dealing with medical professionals as a doula or as a patient.
I just wait to over analyze every single part of those interactions when they're over and feel awkward about every single thing I said or did or could have done.
3. Driving to places I've never been before. Even with GPS to guide me I'm a neurotic mess the whole drive. This is exponentially worse if it's dark out. Also, you can't take Valium and drive so it's all deep breathing and therapeutically playing Hozier's album on repeat.
4. Explaining my parenting choices. It's awful. We don't do traditional school. (See the other blog) We don't even attempt to avoid GMO's or eat organic. We rarely eat out. Unless we eat out almost every day in a week, because reasons. We breastfeed well past the first year. (Dot's almost 2.5 and still nursing.) We vaccinate. We had two home births. We don't spank. We don't only use "natural consequences".
I guess it's hard because we aren't traditional parents and we aren't totally outside of the box either. Every time I open my mouth about any of these topics I am immediately convinced that I have either offended the person I'm talking to or I've come off as condescending and judgmental.
In all honesty, I don't really give two shits about what other people are doing with their kids as long as there is no abuse involved.
I don't care if you formula fed your traditionally schooled, cesarean section born, gluten-free, organic only, vegan children.
Seriously, no shits given.
But I automatically assume everyone thinks I'm a total douche bag no matter what part of our parenting choices I'm talking about. Also, I can't even coherently explain WHY we made the choices we did unless I've had 2 glasses of wine.
5. Internet fights. I will stew over things strangers on the internet said to me or about things I feel strongly about for DAYS. Literally days. I will be embarrassed about every comment I wrote, thinking and rethinking the million different ways I could have responded better or justified my belief more eloquently or regretting some random stupid insult I posted.
Seriously, this shouldn't bother me OR ANYONE. They are non-people in the wide world of the internet. It doesn't matter. (As long as you're not internet bullying people, that's a different story.)
At 1am on Tuesday more than a week after the conversation had taken place I'll still be convinced that was the most important conversation on the internet I've ever had!
6. My kids social lives. I know. I know. I can't control my teen's relationships, but I've tried really hard to help them learn appropriate boundaries and how to interact politely and with respect to everyone around them. When things go awry I feel like a failure and I try desperately to think of what I could have done differently as a parent to help prevent the situation. I'm mortified to interact with any parents involved in the situation. I, sorry not sorry for the language, brain fuck it to death. It'll keep me up at night for, well, longer than I'd like to admit.
7. Nothing. Sometimes I freak out for absolutely no reason at all. I'll be at the park with the kids joyfully running around and I'll feel like I'm going to barf and then my chest will get tight and then my heart will be going about 4000 beats per minute and I can't breath and I'm dying, I'm sure I'm dying. Deep breaths. Locate water. Small sips. Better? No? Gum or tic tacs. Better? No? Gather children. (Please no melt downs please no melt downs please no melt downs) Get to car. Get in. Close doors. Turn on music. Deep breaths deep breaths deep breaths. More water. A new piece of gum or more tic tacs. I'm not dying. I have to drive. I have to get home. We'll be okay when we're home. Drive. We're not going to die in a horrific car accident. Dot is not choking to death in the back seat on the sucker I gave her to bribe her to leave the park. I didn't leave Al or Cass at the park. Emie is strapped in. I'm not having a stroke. Almost home. Close. Drive slow. White knuckles on the steering wheel. So close. I can make it. We'll make it. Don't hit a kid walking home from school. Stop totally at the cross walk. Wait. I'm not having a heart attack. It's okay. We're here. Kids in house. Screaming toddler. Movie. Valium. Water. Breath. Breath. Breath. Okay. I'm okay. We're all okay. Pulse slows. Stomach settles. Cuddle littles. Thank Al and Cass for understanding and helping when I was kind of losing it.
Breath.
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