Putting the Fun Into Functional Anxiety
On the Highway to Hell
An essay or “musings” if you will from a collection of stories all about learning to win at life with high functioning anxiety, ADHD and “just the right size” personality. A collection of stories written in the middle of the night and brought to you by my invasive thoughts and insomnia.
Throw back to the twenty-teens somewhere between being a Mom of 2 and being a Mom of 3.
I woke up gasping for breath. I had a horrible nightmare. I was with the girls in some big city, I was holding something in my hand (yogurt, actually, whatever subconscious...) and I told Ruby not to run towards the bridge and she did and flipped over it and I woke up with the startle that I lost her.
Now, I'm somewhat rational. I took high school physics. I'm pretty sure a 4-year-old, even a rather tall one, can't flip over a bridge by running at it too fast. However, I have this horrible recurring dream and sometimes just thousands of intrusive thoughts like electric shocks to my body in the wee hours of the night years before I solved the puzzle of treating my anxiety that the kids fall over, through and around bridges. Am I afraid of bridges? Well, I don't love heights. Mostly I'm crippled by the fear of losing these two precious beings that I am so incredibly in love with that it aches to think of them being in even one moment of pain. Don't get me wrong, I do make them cry when I refuse to give them unlimited candy and finally turn off the TV. So I wondered: is this a normal mom thing or an anxiety thing or am I just lucky to be a normal anxious mom, who happens to also be an "anxious" mom?
Enjoying this piece? Read more of Franki’s writing on anxiety:
My Why & The ADHD and Anxiety Connection
I hold it together pretty well these days and actually handle a job, a rental property, two kids and a husband. Though don’t be fooled by my outward competence. I find myself adding more and more irrational fears to my list. I haven’t driven on a freeway in several years, I won't fly unmedicated, I fear heights, bridges and pretty much anything that could result in a freak accident with my kids.
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Recently I participated in five cognitive behavioral therapy sessions. That got me on a plane with my children and a couple little white pills. I was in a struggling place after a series of unfortunate events the year before and found that therapy finally made me feel more like myself, whoever that was. While I enjoyed respite for years at a time from panic attacks and anxiety that kept me home in bed unable to do much else, the crippling fear about my children never left. I wondered how long I could tolerate watching it play over and over in my mind without teetering over the edge to a not-so-functional human. In fact, in my early 30s my biggest anxiety was about my anxiety getting worse. With no real confidence that my life could be any different, I would simply resort to watching reruns of Friends until I passed out exhausted, making for an interesting morning the following day. Some days I would fear sleep, I would resist the quiet. As soon as everything was turned off in the house and I was left in my bed alone with my thoughts, my mind got loud. Loud, obnoxious, untruthful. Because anxiety is a bitch! Mine is the most ruthless of all bitches. Fearing the opportunity for anxiety to find its voice, I’d rather fall asleep by passing out, distracting myself with other things. Sometimes I would force myself to use a meditation or mindfulness technique, while other times anxiety would voice itself and snarkily say, “Ha, you know that bullshit won’t work.”
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