Tuesday, November 10, 2009


I'd been doing so well... But I guess it was inevitable that I'd slip back into anxiety mode again. It all started with my decision on Friday that I deserved a weekend of rest & relaxation. So I maturely stuck my tongue out at my pile of correcting, left my papers to be photocopied on Monday, my plans completed through Wednesday only, and walked out the door. I felt pretty good about that decision at the time.

Then Friday night hits and I find myself at 2:30 am bolt upright in bed with cold sweats and shakes. Now, of all the things I could be terrified of, could be remembering... What is it that woke me in a panic? The dream of a baby shower. Yes, that's right, I dreamt that my colleagues, who just found out that I'm expecting, threw me a surprise shower before the safe arrival of the babies. I can laugh at this, but only a little, and certainly not that night. Or really, the rest of the weekend.

I dread the idea of having stuff again. Because I dread the idea of having to pack it up and it joining the other sad sad box of belongings that reside in my attic. Adorable pink & purple outfits to wear home from the hospital. Handmade blankets from my mom. Gifts from my students. Nighties from my best friend. Things that are wrapped up in dreams which will never come true. Things I can neither use nor get rid of. How can I face boxing up my dreams again? How can I survive that?

Shaken by my night, Saturday slipped by in a whirlwind of guilt over not being happier, more connected, more able to plan. Then bam, my old friend Sunday Worry about school shows up and sends me head over heals into panic attack mode. I became totally convinced that every single thing was going to go wrong, always, with every aspect of my life. My heart wouldn't stop racing, my hands shaking, my breathing was labored. All the way to school Monday morning. I thought I was going to explode. It was awful.

I've managed to calm down since then. Monday I taught. I wasn't the most prepared I've ever been, but it went alright. I spoke to the teacher who would be organizing anything, and she said she'd never thought to do anything until after the safe arrival. (Of course she did, she's amazing like that. She knew without me even having to vocalize it.) Today I talked to my therapist a little. He said that I was doing alright. Anxiety is to be expected. I should stop beating myself up for feeling it. (Easier said than done of course.) Tomorrow I have the day off. I plan to sleep in, have lunch with a friend, and try to relax a little more. It should be a good day.

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