All is well, and all will be well
February 28, 2012Everything is fine but I am having a hard time convincing my mind of that--my mind, where things that don't exist seem to matter.
My thoughts keep circling around a few choice incidents: like how, last week, we lost Henry in the park for a few terrifying minutes, minutes that seem to stretch on and on in my memory, even though it wasn't that long and of course he was found, completely fine, if scared. But for those few minutes, we screamed into the woods, and there was no answer. That's where my memory is stuck.
And then it fast-forwards to a few days later, when I crossed a busy street against the light (stupid, I know, so stupid) and Henry was behind me, with Scott, only he bolted after me, and there were no cars even near him, but he wasn't looking and he followed and that's my freeze-frame, the innocent following, the trusting, damn it, all my fault.
The culmination occurred only a few minutes later, I think--maybe a half-hour?--when the encroaching stomach-sick that was threatening me all day, struck--on the subway. Where you really don't want something like that to happen. And I don't know whether it was the nausea that gave me a panic attack, or the panic attack that's been almost overtaking me for days kicked the nausea into high gear, but either way, I had to get off the train. I was in a blind panic and I told Scott, I have to get off the train now, and we were nowhere near home, and then I was on the platform, retching (unproductively, painfully) behind a garbage can, and I had no feeling in my arms and I was bathed in cold sweat and between retches I informed Scott that he had to get an ambulance because there was no way. There was no way I could get home. I was going to die there. On the G platform. The G! The very worst train!
At any rate, Scott (fortunately) did not panic, and no one called an ambulance (although a very nice passerby did offer to help, which was so kind--I would keep my distance from a lady retching on the subway platform, personally) and Henry patted me on the back, and the crisis subsided, and we actually got back on the train, where I shivered and sweated and felt generally pathetic.
That was my Sunday. Yesterday I was sick, curled up on the couch all day. Today I am better. I had a burger that was off, or a flu, is all. But I feel like an open wound, and my mind keeps going back, to the park, staring into the woods, or to the street, Henry following me, to the mistakes I keep making--or that moment in the subway--I don't know. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Only that I feel alone with my thoughts and they won't let up and I am exhausted. I wish I could give myself a break but I am still not fully convinced that I deserve it.
Reader Comments (88)
I have those thoughts almost all day every day. I know it's irrational. I see something bad happen to a kid on TV and I grab my kid as if that same threat is imminent for him as well. It doesn't cripple me into not being able to function, but it's always, always there.
I don't think we'd be normal parents if it weren't. Right? IT IS NORMAL, RIGHT?
Anyhow, feel better. Change your scenery for a bit. Go for a walk, get a margarita. Call a friend and talk about Clooney's ass. Whatever it takes. Break the train of thought in your head.
Oh man, the worst is feeling that sick and horrible, and not knowing if it's due to a bad hamburger or whatever, or if it's your own brain cheerfully trying to kill you. Ugh! My sympathies, lady-friend.
This post was well timed for me. My weekend consisted of my Mom in the ER with chest pains and my 11 week old son having his first cold. In my anxiety ridden mind, this lead me to imagine my Mom having open heart surgery and my tiny son in the hospital with RSV. I found myself doubled over, hyperventilating, in tears in front of the dishwasher at 3:00 a.m. I've struggled with anxiety for years, but becoming a mother has really thrown it into high gear. I hope both of us find some relief.
Oh, Alice. You are so very hard on yourself.
In particular, I was horrified by the \"crossing the street\" scene you just described. *I* still haven't forgot that near-accident of your own, so I can imagine that scenes like that still bring back the horror.
Seriously, don't be so hard on yourself!
Oh, Louise, C'MERE. Hugs.
Kelli, you are right, of course. I know this. And yes, I think it might have triggered some stuff. But thank you!
Almost every night since I've become a mother, I grind my teeth and I have nightmares. My chest is tight more times during the day than I would like to admit because I am worried that something will happen while he's at the babysitter and I am at work, or when he's right next to me. He'll wander off into the woods around our house (I'm on the kid like glue so when this would happen, I don't know), he'll find and drink Clorox (Again, when I'm right next to him?), he'll fall off of something, he'll fall onto something, etc., etc., etc. I worry that my worry will finally grab me and drag me down. It hasn't happened yet. Reading things like this are helpful. Knowing that I'm not the only one. If we're all freaking out, it's okay, right? RIGHT? Anyway, thank you for sharing this. I'm sure many of us can relate.
You're about to get a tidal wave of \"you're NOT the only one.\" Here's mine, and I'm sharing just to prove it: my tiny daughter, 4 YO at the time, and I were playing in the shallow end of the crowded public pool. She couldn't swim but loved playing in the water, and why put on floaties? She was with me!
I walked (in the water) toward my son who was going down the slide in the shallow end. I didn't notice it was getting slightly deeper, and when I turned around, I saw my daughter had followed me. The water was covering her mouth and nose and was just below her eyes...which were wide with panic because she couldn't breathe. I grabbed her out of the water and all was fine, but I couldn't shake the panic and shame for a long time.
Yes, it was a mindless moment, but we ALL make them, and we ALL deserve a break. It retrospect, I know it would have helped me to focus on the gratitude instead of the shame.
Of course you deserve a break (says the stranger on the internet). This parenting gig is hard. This being a grown-up gig is hard. You are not required to be perfect, or even outstanding, all the time. You are doing the best you can with what you've been given and sometimes that doesn't feel like enough, but it still all anyone can expect. We've all had our moments of retching on the train platform. It's not the retching that matters, it's the afterward, when you drag yourself back onto the train and go home even though it seems like it would be easier to just die right there behind the trash can. You're awesome just for surviving.
Everyone's stories make me upset for each of you. As my daughter is only 13 months, I'm pretty green still. Mine is of her rolling off the bed at 8 months. I had stepped away just for a second and I cried for longer than she did. Still. I kept replaying the sound of her hitting the floor. Ugh. We all need to cut ourselves some slack but also learn from our mistakes (and yet another \"but\"--know that we'll make more).
Oh, honey! That's awful. Like Louise, I've struggled with anxiety and know how crippling it can be. Hopefully it was just something you ate or the flu. Even if it is anxiety, taking time out for yourself can help these feelings pass. Thinking of you!
God, I hate anxiety. I hate that I can step away and recognize how irrational I am when I'm caught in the middle of it, but that even then, I cannot stop my body from continuing to escalate into the panic. I also really hate the panic hangover; it rivals a real hangover, except there was no great night to justify it.
I'm sorry you're in it now, and hope it passes ASAP.
Oh my. These thoughts have gripped me too and my husband thinks I am a sicko for having them. We'll be having a delightful, storybook moment with our 2.5 year old and all of a sudden, BAM. My mind starts with the What Ifs. What if our son gets sick? What if it's cancer? What if I get cancer? What if my husband gets cancer? How will I cope? I can't cope. What if kids are mean to him one day? I will kill them, won't I? And then I'll go to jail and my little boy won't have a mommy and...and.....etc. I don't know how to live \"in the moment\" it seems and it sure is a drag. I suppose this is normal (ish) behavior for moms but I sure wish we could collectively turn off the anxiety switch.
Oh Alice. Be kind to yourself. Take care of yourself! And that includes in your own mind. Remember, your chakras are all in alignment. (You told me this at Camp Mighty!) Focus on that. Everything is fine now, and you can let go of the panic and the pain of those moments. Let it go and breathe. I've been dwelling on something I said to a friend, something that wasn't kind and it was a mistake and I wish I hadn't said it and I'm sure she hates me now. But the truth is that I'm probably just beating myself up for no reason. Don't beat yourself up. We all have moments when the world stops, but somehow we have to keep on living. Live sucks sometimes, but it makes the good times even sweeter. Sending you hugs and love and understanding. xo
You wrote it because if we have had similar feelings, we couldn't share it as well.
take care of yourself. As a Minnesotan I'm very concerned about you.
It's so nice to hear that the crazy fears will not go away as my children get older. I keep thinking that I'm only paranoid now because they're so little and vulnerable. But of course they will always be vulnerable to something (peer pressure! drunk drivers!) so I think I will have a cup of coffee and settle in for the long haul :)
Thank you for sharing these moments, they will save someone who feels alone. Thank you for your continued optimism, for surely it's optimism that allows us to write.
Thank you for watercolors and laughter.
You are one of my favorite bloggers, panic attacks and all.
Oh, Darling. Come here and let me give you strange internet hugs. You are totally normal, and yet, I would not dissuade you from going to talk to the nice folks with the pharmaceuticals. Sometimes they are a helping thing. Sometimes they are not necessary. I do not judge, I just leave huggy helpy notes on the internet.
I've never had a problem with anxiety before, not really. And then last Friday morning I had a horrible car accident with my kids and my husband in the car.
Now I can't sleep and I can't eat and every time I get near the car I hyperventilate and I cried all the way through the morning commute yesterday and today I asked my mother to drive me. I just keep thinking, I could have killed them all. And then people would look at me and say, oh, she's that woman whose kids and husband were killed in that awful car accident. You know, she was driving when it happened.
We all walked away. I am a little bruised, and of course hyperventilating at the mere mention of a motor vehicle. But my brain won't stop, and it's never done this before, and I don't care for it. No, I don't.
When my son Jack was 8 weeks old, I took him on a (gentle) hike, with the dog on a leash. It was a familiar hike. As I anticipated, we came to a very shallow stream crossing. Normally just an inch or two deep with exposed dry rocks everywhere, the stream was deeper and running a little more quickly than usual. Must've been a rain. Just downstream of us was a waterfall - a tiny one, one that children slide down, but still - dark and uneven and swift-moving and places for a dog's leash to get wrapped and stuck and lots of sharp, unforgiving stones. I was still New Mother, but trying to be strong and do tough things, to do what I always do, just with a child in tow. Old me would stride forward to the other side. So I decided we could make it across the stream. Jack was in an Ergo carrier on my front - I tucked my 20 lb dog under my arm, and began to forge across.
The dog panicked. He crawled up over the baby's head, waking him up, scratching him, clawing at my hair. He knocked me over. I nearly pitched forward, 8-week-old baby-first, into the drink, where I would have bounced down the waterfall with the baby's head hitting every sharp rock on the way, with Virgil's leash twisted around us, with Virgil caught in rocks and drowning, possibly holding us down, too.
I caught my balance, and fled back from whence I came, while a bunch of people bathing in the stream stared at me, The Dumb Idiot. It's been four years since that day, and I still want to weep when I think of it, how stupid I was, how pointless that was, and how it all could have gone so wrong. You'll never forget what you did - I think that's part of the point. The question is, how do we get the knowledge of the Razor's Edge to retreat to the background of our minds again? How do we crowd out the chorus of \"You're a Terrible Person\" with certainty in ourselves again? I don't know that we ever fully do - it peeks out now and again - but I think the distance of time will help dull the terror a bit. It did for me!
Henry's a lucky boy. You're a fantastic mother, fantastic woman. Give it some time, and if that's not enough, then ask a professional to help you, my dear.
I hate when I do the same thing to myself: my brain keeps circling back again and again to something that was relatively minor, but for some reason I feel as though I completely failed as a person. It's hard for me sometimes to remember that it's important to be tolerant of myself, not just other people. The way I try to get my brain back in balance is to ask myself: If someone were talking this way to someone I cared about, what would my reaction be? Because I *should* care about myself, and not let the anxiety have free reign.
All this is to say: you're not alone. And I hope you can find a way to be kind to yourself.
I want to say something that you'll really get and that will make you feel better, but I can't think of anything. Other than this: You are worthy. You are worthy for all of the above. Sending comfort in your direction.
I wish there was a way to turn these thoughts off, to stop them from escalating into terrifying what ifs, horrible imaginary scenarios that make me literally shake my head (like an Etch a Sketch) to erase them. This morning I was locking the front door. My two younger kids had already walked into the yard. When I turned, the 2 yr old was damn near at the sidewalk, just steps away from the street. A car was speeding by. My eight-year-old ran and grabbed his hand and turned to me, incredulous that he was out of the yard that fast. And like the perfect mother I am, I looked at her, making a face that suggested SHE wasn't watching him. Who the fuck does that? She's eight. I should have been watching him. I should have had his hand. And now all I can see, literally see, is him being run over by that truck that barreled by. It is crippling and I keep shaking my head and I keep sweating and all of the people I don't like at work need my help today.
I'm so sorry that you were ill, but I'm glad that you're feeling better. I don't know why I'm telling all of you this either. Maybe to let you know that you aren't alone, Alice, that we all mess up. All of us.
I have always suffered from anxiety. It got MUCH worse when I became a Mom...and at one point with my husband out of town, I had a doozy of an attack at work and with nobody there to \\\"not panic\\\", EVERYBODY did. My co-workers, the nurses at work, the paramedics who kept telling me that I was OK, but sure didn't act like it...the ER room staff...
And it was just a panic...
And I was sick with the aftermath for days.
My psychiatrist had a good laugh and said something to the effect of: \\\"It is the FIRST panic attack that is supposed to send you to the ER, not one after you have been dealing with this thing successfully for the last 20 years...\\\"
10 years later I can laugh about it too.
All the best to you.
I got a jolt when I read the title of this post. I've been unbelievably anxious, and \"All is well, and all will be well\" is one of the two things I've been repeating to myself. The other is part of a Buddhist prayer - I'll share it here in the hopes that it'll be helpful, to you or to someone else reading these comments: