File 32 - Prom Queen of Panic

Me and Anxiety go way back.  Come to think of it, there is not a time that I can think of, when she wasn't around.  She was definitely there during my elementary, latchkey days.  I remember hearing her troublesome chatter when I got braces, then a retainer, then boobs.  Through the acid wash jeans and crimped hair. She...never...stopped....talking.  Those look terrible.  Everyone is going to make fun of you.  Make sure all the doors are locked, when your Mom is not home.  Make sure you sprint, if you need something from the basement, because there is a good possibility a killer is hiding down there.  

She wasn't just present, in high school.  Anxiety was lit AF, in high school.  This was her jam and she was turnt up!  She relished in the teenage perils of house parties, independent studies, and a complicated social hierarchy.  Gangsta rap and getting the grade.  This made her job simple. Restlessness and mistrust already lurked around every corner.  This was her moment.  Prom queen of panic.  What a blast.

When I was in college, I realized maybe Anxiety wasn't out for my best interests.  I think that was when Anxiety's arch enemy, Critical Thinking, emerged.  I came to the realization, that I needed her to shut the f**k up, for a bit.  I needed her to take a seat.  Or maybe, a few goddamn seats! I needed control.  So, I started cooking.  When I cooked, she was mute.  I created a little world, where Anxiety didn't exist.  And then, I got to eat.  So - win/win, am I right??? And, hence began my love affair with food.  Did somebody say snack time?

Around this time, I had started writing again, too. I mean, this was pre-littles, so I had a lot more time to work on the great Canadian novel. This seemed to have the same effect, as cooking.  Then, I started running.  This worked, too!!!  Who can listen to Anxiety, when you have to focus on not dying?  And, so I began to gather my arsenal to take on this adversary.  For the most part, it has worked.  There have been a few times, however, when she is relentless.  Like, when I was pregnant.  Google never seen a more manic mama-to-be.  I am surprised I never got the response "Did you mean - you need to take a deep breath and chill the f**k out?"

And, this week...  This week Anxiety has been amped.  It is the first week of school.  Not only that, my youngest is starting school.  I am going to put my baby, on a school bus, and send him off into the world.  He is going to wave to me, from the bus window, and just like that, no more babies.  He is going to get lost.  He is going to pee his pants. He is going to cry.  He's going to eat all his lunch, at the first nutrition break, and be hungry.  And there she is, ladies and gentleman.  She's here all week!

My plan for this rest of the week?  Run, cook, write...repeat.  Wine.

I am not naive enough to think that I will ever fully get rid of Anxiety.  I mean, we have grown up together.  Training bras, Tupac, tiny humans, and all.  Nevertheless, acknowledging her existence and finding ways to shut her ass down, has made me happier.  Stronger. A better mama.  Hungrier.  Wait, what?

Does Mommy need to lose her shit?

Not this week.