On Super Powers

I must think I have super powers; I spent today running around trying to get what felt like a million things done! We had moms group at the park, a Target trip (duh), a chiropractor appointment, a stop by the post office, and a grocery trip (mama scored on those organic deals!). After all this, we still went on a nice walk. I am so exhausted! Why do I push myself so hard like this? I really need to stop because it all hit me pretty hard today.

I had another anxiety spout. This one was similar to one I had about a week ago. It hit me out of nowhere: first I felt exhaustion, then I felt like my muscles over-relaxed, then I felt jittery and my hands were shaking. I lost my appetite and felt so tired like I could pass out anywhere. I feel like these are the after effects of a strong feeling of what Holly Golightly and I call "the reds". "The reds" are when you're afraid, but you don't know what you're afraid of. I felt like previously to this both of these anxiety episodes. Except today, I know what I was afraid of.

I love music and I love dancing. Today, D and I were listening to "From the Ground Up" by Dan + Shay. I was holding him, singing to him, and dancing around our living room with him. As I sang, I started to cry. I don't know how to watch my baby grow up. I just want to pause time and keep him in my arms forever. I hate that there is nothing I can do besides take pictures and videos to remember this moment. I feel like my anxiety makes my mind so clouded that I forget so many things! Of course I remember big things, but will I remember all the times he smiled at me, or when his eyes light up when I tell him good morning, or how he used to fall asleep on me all the time. Will I remember all the things that make him laugh? How on earth am I supposed to be happy that he is growing up if I want him to stay this age forever. As I'm typing this, he is getting older and I just want to hold him so tight as if that will make time stand still. I began to think of my childhood and how hard it must have been for my parents to watch my sister and I grow up. My parents did such a good job raising us and creating a loving home. I have such wonderful memories and I would love to tell anyone who asks about how lucky I am to have had a perfect childhood. I used to think that if I didn't have a special story or tragedy in my life that I wasn't important (thanks to shows like The Voice where EVERYONE has something to make them "different"). But I realize that I am so blessed to have grown up with both my parents and my sister in our little home. I want to give that to Daxton to and I am so scared that I will do something wrong (this is an anxiety thing and though it is nice, I do not need encouragement on this because I already know "every mom makes mistakes," and "don't be so hard on yourself," and "every family is different," etc. I am just thinking 'out loud'). I realized the immense pressure I have put on myself to try to make sure I am as good of a parent to Daxton as my parents were for me. I know she doesn't mean it this way, but when my mom says, "Well with you guys..." or "When I did __ this way...", I question and doubt myself. I have a high standard to meet and I want the best for my child. So naturally, this sent my mind into a craze imagining all that I want to give my child, and I think coming down from that caused my body to react physically. I have been dealing with the shaking hands for a while, and I realized that I really need to go back to my therapist. I made an appointment for two weeks out, so look forward to that!

Well, I am seriously emotionally exhausted from the day. D is bathed and asleep (how cute is he in this towel from Grandma and Grandpa which really brings out his eyes), so mama needs to get to sleep, too. Here's to a new day tomorrow!
-T