The past 3 months have cracked me open like a poached egg on a Sunday morning. Like the egg, I feel like I have been poured into the hot water, swirled around in amongst the vinegar and dumped out onto a dry toast.
I’ve had waaaaaay worse trials than this. I’m sure you tell yourself similar things.
‘This is nothing compared to so and so.’
‘I just have to put on my brave face.’
‘I’m just being silly. I’ve probably manifesting it up. You know brought it into existence through my million and one thoughts about it.’
So today I went down to the park with my cute as a (vintage) button 18 month old. I noticed that as he got out of the stroller he was so excited. It must have felt nice for him to go for a little exploration after his nap at home and a bit of quiet play time.
As I watched him climb up the stairs of the little cubby he’d go up to the slide look at it and then hide inside the cubby and start calling out to me ‘Hello? Hello?’
I offered the wee little boy a hand and he accepted it graciously and went down the slide.
So today I’m going to talk to you about something I’ve noticed you’re frustrated about. So frustrated like the way I am when I find out my favourite coffee shop is closed on a Sunday morning and the only thing left to do is grind my own beans and put it through the Aeropress.
Now even though the Aeropressed coffee is pretty sweet, there’s still that frustration there because I wasn’t actually able to go to my fav coffee shop to purchase my large cappuccino in those giant blue cups they provide. You know those ones that are as large as your head. I don’t get to just get away from it all for a moment. I’m left sipping my Aeropress coffee in my fav cup in the size of my 18 month’s old head instead. It’s too small and even though it’s super cute, sometimes there’s something about getting out and about, having the coffee made for you and just savouring the moment.
I see you over there sitting on your couch, curled up under the blanket as your child watches another episode of Giggle and Hoot. Guilt washes over you like a tidal wave. You feel bad that you’ve left them in front of the t.v yet you only just played with them. You have the lego mark on the bottom of your feet to prove it.
It can be tough being anxious and a mum. The questions come for you continually ‘Am I going to screw up my child?’, ‘Is he going to ruin his eyes watching too much T.V’ and ‘Maybe I should just let him cry it out’ bombard your mind.
It doesn’t help that people around you are also asking questions of you. Questions that make you doubt your ability as a mum. Questions like “Is your child sleeping through?” “Oh you rock your child to sleep tsk tsk” or “Aren’t you putting them into day care yet? They need the socialisation.”
Everywhere you look it’s like a tornado has whirled through your house. There’s toys all over the place, clean washing piling up in the baskets and clumps of hair all throughout the house.
If you’re anything like me it can sometimes feel like the to-do list with cleaning is never ending. It seems like you clean one area and then you look back over and it’s like someone has ransacked your house.
Totally frustrating and can add to overwhelm huh?
Since I mind detoxed about a fortnight ago I have really seen the knock on effects of letting go of my ex. (If you missed it you can read the blog post HERE).
:: I’ve stopped craving sugar (and now lost nearly 3 kgs).
:: I feel much more zen and have stopped rushing around.
AND for some weird reason I’ve had this desire to really declutter my home all of a sudden.
Which got me thinking. Could clutter be the sign of an anxious mind? Or is it just the way I’ve been? I’ve always been this person who can let an area go untidy but after a while it has to be cleaned and put back to order. My desk at work (where I still work 2 days as a high school teacher), I will clear at the end of the day as I want to come back to a clean workspace.
As we pulled up to the holiday house located at the beautiful Sunshine Coast, I knew I could completely unwind. It was just Dave and I for 2 and a bit days while Flynn was being babysat by his grandparents and then Flynn came to join us for the remaining 3 days.
The beach shack was located right on the beach at Warana. I could hear the waves splashing up on the shore. Like a lullaby hushing me, it soothed any anxiety I was feeling. Then we settled in for a night of watching the Olympics! I hardly get to watch t.v (well I choose not to) but this felt so good.
As women with anxiety it is so easy to hold onto everything that comes into our lives.
Sometimes it can be physical, like keeping that battered folder with ‘that Dawson’s creek guy’ on it because it reminds you of the ‘good ole days’ before anxiety hit you in the guts and made you run for the toilet.
Perhaps it’s just the question that keep peppering you after that event you went to on the weekend:
‘Oh my gosh I hurt her feelings. She was scowling at me after I offended her.’
‘I said something stupid.’
‘Ugh I rambled on and on again when she said nice dress. Why did I go into the price of the dress, where it was made, and how stoked you were that it was ethically sourced?’
Throwing the heavy nappy bag (Adidas sport’s bag cause I’m that trendy) over my shoulder, keys in hand, toddler on hip, I open the door to head out to my brow waxing appointment. (I know, exciting huh).
As I open the door the waft of Flynn’s poo hits me in the face.
Dudeeeee. Really? Now? I’m running JUST right on time to make it to my appointment.
I unlock the door, throw the bag down and head back in to clean the wee toddler.
Realise there are exactly 2 wipes left.
Journalling is one of those things that really helps me dial down my anxiety and helps me to process my emotions.
It’s also one of those activities that can bring up the most resistance. Like, I’ll go and make a cuppa, watch t.v, and scroll through Facebook before I’ll attempt it.
Yet it’s the one thing that really helps me to sssshhh my mind and helps give me crystal clear clarity (boo yeah on my English teacher alliteration skills there hey?)