A Writing Assignment from my English1020 Class

.

.

. 

                                                            Worry

 

   I grew up in a tumultuous home.  My mother was a single mom, raising three kids on her own, trying to do the best she could.  I have vivid memories of her sitting at the dining room table, crying over her checkbook.  I didn’t understand what that meant then, all I knew was that she was hurting - so I’d run to her, put my head down in her lap, and ask if she was okay.   She’d always reassure me that she was okay - shielding me from any understanding over her financial struggles.

  I don’t think of myself as having grown up always being an anxious child.  I don’t remember ever having to worry about shelter, clothing, or where my next meal would come from - we were poor, but very fortunate in that sense. 

  We moved a few times from the time I was in Kindergarten till I was in 2^nd grade.  - From Arizona, to California, then finally settling in Florida.  I will venture out and guess that’s when the worry and anxiousness started.  My mom and stepdad had separated.  I started 2^nd grade at a new school, in a new state. 

  I recall struggling a lot in school that year.  - Never wanting to do homework, or classwork.  - Having to keep a daily reporting notebook that went home to my mom every day with either a smiley face or sad face depending on my behavior that day.  I don’t remember ever having that much trouble in school after that year though. 

  My mom had a ridiculously bad temper, and an extremely abusive, hurtful tongue.  Her words hit much harder than her fists did.  She and my brother fought so much.  He was 4 years older than me, very stubborn, and very strong willed.  He was just like my mom in so many ways - which is probably much of why they fought so often.

  Middle school was a turning point for me.  My stepdad and my mom had tried to work things out several times over those 3 years but finally separated for good after my 6^th grade year.  I had experienced a lot of personal trauma during middle school that I wasn’t dealing with - nor was I allowed to speak about.   

  By high school, my brother had landed himself in prison.  I was barely speaking to my mom, and she was blaming me for everything that was going wrong in our lives on a daily rotation.

  I was told every day that I was a failure, the biggest disappointment of her life - and if I failed anymore, she threatened that she would kill me.  After hearing that every day of my life over a couple of years' time - I eventually started to believe I was as big a mess up as she proclaimed me to be and thought that I might just be better off dead. 

  I’m pretty confident that’s when my worry and anxiety manifested itself into actual signs any healthy individual could pinpoint and seek help for.  With the close of my freshman year approaching, I attempted suicide.  I was institutionalized for several months.  - I received a lot of therapy and counseling but I remember spending the whole time worrying about how my mom was going to treat me after I was released and free to go home. 

  From then on, I think I managed to survive the rest of high school purely by flying under the radar. - Speaking only when asked specific things.  - Respectful, but short answers.  I never offered up any other conversation.  I quietly refused to share any personal thoughts or feelings with her.  I didn’t trust her to receive them without judgement.

 Still to this day, I believe my inability to communicate effectively when I’m emotional - or in a fight with someone - spurs directly from never being able to say what I was feeling to my mother when I was hurting.  As an adult in my early forties, I still have difficulty articulating what I want to say when the conversations are emotionally charged topics.  I get tongue-tied and completely frustrated to the point of crying because I can’t find the words that I want to say.

 

  Looking back on my time at home with my mother, I can see now how my anxieties were manifesting themselves.  I struggled with constipation all throughout middle and high school.  It wasn’t till I moved out that I realized people were supposed to poop at least every other day - if not every day.

  I struggled with patches of red raised bumps on my tummy.  My family physician called them “stress bumps”.  I had no idea things like that - a product of stress - could physically show up on your body. 

  My sleep schedule was erratic.  I barely slept for weeks at a time.  - Then all I’d want to do for several weeks was sleep. 

 

  Shortly after I had my daughter, I began a long journey of self-work.  I dove head-first into therapy.  I had always known I struggled with depression, but the thought of suffering with anxiety never registered on my radar until later in my adult life. 

  I remember worrying over driving, accidents, dying myself, or my kid dying in a car accident.  - Vivid pictures in my head of those things happening.  - Of my daughter being abducted.  - Held hostage in someone’s house.  - Being forced into doing things no child should be doing.  - Again, vivid, disturbing images in my head. 

  Worry - anxiety specifically - this was how it was all manifesting itself in my life as an adult.  I decided to speak to my doctor about it.  I was prescribed an anti-depressant with an anti-anxiety medication combined.  It’s helped but I still struggle with incessant worry.

  I now have 2 kids.  - And I’ll be the first to admit, that I have worried over the same things with my son that I worried over with my daughter.  - Accidents, death, abduction, sex trafficking.  - The whole gambit of twisted and gory details no parent wants to see of their kids.

  In addition to all those crazy things, I worry like crazy over the normal stuff too.  -  Bills, money, finances, Covid, how Covid is going to affect the world - my job - my career - my kids - our town - our legacy.  I worry every day about my son’s nutrition - his disability - my shortcomings as a mom to a son with special needs.  The only visual I can give someone of what my worrisome thoughts look like in my head is this:  Picture the biggest plate of spaghetti you can imagine - Extra saucy and piled high.  - That is my brain full of unhelpful worrisome thoughts - all day long. 

 

  It’s a struggle to say the very least.  A few things that help me are as follows:

  I meditate a lot.  I have several meditation apps on my phone that help me redirect my anxiousness when I need to, so I don’t spiral myself into a full-blown panic attack. 

  I pray a lot too.  I do bible studies geared toward anxiousness and worry every week.  One of my recent bible studies had this to say, “Worry is our inability or unwillingness to trust God.”  Ooof.  That felt like a sucker punch in my gut when I read that.  It affected me so deeply that I had to share it with my friends on Facebook AND write it down on a sticky note to have on my vanity mirror as a daily reminder.

  I grew up in church.  I was extremely active in my church youth group.  I’m still very close to my youth director.  I consider her my other mom.  I remember having conversations with her in high school about worry.  She basically said the same thing back then about worry being your lack of trust in God.

  A little sidebar discussion for any readers: 

  I know I’m not the only person who struggles with trusting God.  I was taught - or told - that I should think of God as a Dad.  - As my Heavenly Father - My Dad in Heaven - Daddy God, If you will. 

  - I was also told in the same breath that it’d be hard to trust “Daddy God” because I didn’t have the greatest examples of what a dad or father should be here on Earth.  - But I was never given the skills, knowledge, or instruction on how to close that gap either.

  If you don’t have the experience of trusting your Earthly father, then how do you trust in a God you’ve never seen?  This is something I still struggle with daily.  If you have any pointers on this, please find me on socials and let’s discuss.   

 

I believe in God. 

I believe in the power of meditation and prayer. 

I believe in medicine.

- All of which have helped me live with the incessant worry and debilitating anxiety I have lived with for most of my life. 

 There isn’t any one cure all.  Different things will work for some and not work for others. 

Healing and becoming a healthier version of yourself is a lifelong journey. 

What I’ve learned is that it’s okay to misstep, backtrack, start over, or even try something completely new. 

It’s okay to fall flat on your face - I’ve done this so many times - but if you just get up and keep moving forward - it's all considered progress.  If you learned something from it, then it counts as a win, and it all should be applauded.  One foot in front of the other, Friends. 

Written on 12/7/2020

2018

#GoalDigger

No resolutions.  No specific order.

Just a list of things I'd like to embrace, accomplish, and achieve throughout this year.

I've been thinking on this post for several days now.

Posting it here for transparency and accountability's sake.


1) Practice - and make a habit of - loving myself first - where ever I am, just as I am.
  - Physically:  It's so easy to pick my appearance completely apart at any given moment.  - Whether it be those ever-present forehead wrinkles, that extra chin flab, the way my jeans squeeze my love handles up and out, how the back of my arms jiggle when I'm teasing a client's hair.

- It's all a work in progress though.  So as long as I'm making an effort to work on the things I am able to change about my body, I am trying to reprogram my thought patterns to be kinder to myself and to just keep moving forward without releasing those negatively-charged thoughts into my universe.

  - Mentally & Emotionally: I'm a person who struggles with depression and anxiety.  I have major insecurities, hang-ups, and quirks that make it hard for me to open up to people outside of my friend circle.  I'm extremely emotional.  I cry all the time... when I'm sad, frustrated, exhausted, happy, excited, proud, touched.

  For several years leading up to the separation, I made myself numb.  I stopped fighting.  I stopped crying.  I stopped caring...  all because I either wasn't being heard, or I was made to feel silly for being upset over whatever it was I was upset over.

  I don't want to lose that part of myself again.  I feel better when I'm able to cry freely without being judged or told to "suck it up" or to "be a big girl" about it.  - So this year is the year, I want to own feeling what I feel when I feel it... not to numb it, or dumb it down, or self-medicate with alcohol, drugs, or meaningless relationships.  I want to feel it all and not be ashamed of being overly-emotional.  I want to be proud of myself for allowing myself to feel without worrying how others perceive me or about whether or not they approve of my crazy-emotional-self.  This past year and a half has been tremendously cathartic in the sense that I've cried more than I have in the 5 years prior.  I've allowed myself to feel and be felt and be heard again.  I'm well on my way to figuring out who and what I'm supposed to be now as a single mother of 2...  not a married mother of 2 kids, a nephew and a man-child of a husband.  (No offense to my ex if he's reading this...  these were MY feelings towards the end of our marriage, not facts.)


2) Prioritize self-care - for me and me alone.
  - This means not talking myself out of those unnecessary massage appointments, or much-needed manicures / pedicures, or pushing those cut & color hair appointments to every 6 months instead of every 6-8 weeks.

  - I was discussing motherhood and all the transitions moms go through with a new mom the other day.  It made me realize that most new moms - and moms who have another baby - all go through a period of time after having said baby where they feel frumpy or just don't really care about their appearance.  Sleep takes precedence. But most of them bounce back to being their version of "normal" sometime within that first year post-baby-birthing.

   After Xander, I definitely felt like a frumpy ass mom.  I nursed for 16 months.  Nursing attire isn't exactly the most flattering.  Feeling like a literal cow being milked every few hours.  Not having your body - or your boobs - to yourself.  The only touching of your breasts were by your baby or the breast pump.  My breasts had become purely functional.

   But even after I stopped nursing, I still didn't bounce back.  I never did anything to my hair.  It was always up in a ponytail or a bun.   I only did my makeup when I was going to work...  and even then it was super minimal and very toned down.  Sleep was still taking precedence.  - And I felt selfish asking for time to myself so I could get ready for work without my baby being attached to me.

   I struggled with aging gracefully.  I obsessed over looking age appropriate.  I worried if I wore too much makeup when I was out with my kids that I would be viewed negatively by other moms.  I convinced myself I was too old to do a smoky dramatic eye look on myself.  - That I had too many wrinkles to wear highlighter.  - That I was too old to wear a dark lip color.

   I think I started trying to force myself out of that frumpy-dumpy period in 2016.  I had a real hair appointment with a new hair stylist at a new salon on my 37th birthday.  I spent about 4 hours at the salon that day.  Spending more than an hour doing something for myself - without my kids - was not something I did...  EVER.  I told my hair stylist that I needed something very low maintenance and that I could only commit to touchup appointments every 8 weeks or so.

 
  In the fall of the prior year, I had picked up running again but with the hotter temperatures and the humidity, my runs were getting more and more sporadic.  So I joined the local gym a couple of months after my birthday and started going to the gym in the mornings after I'd drop Em off at school.  I didn't feel guilty for taking an hour for myself because most mornings Xander and his dad both would still be asleep while I was gone.

 
  - I got gift certificates for mani/pedis and massages from the kids and my ex pretty regularly.  I think after Mother's Day, I started making regular bi-weekly appointments for those services as well.

  - Anyway, I say all that because I'm now approaching my 39th birthday, Xander just turned 4, and I feel that I've only recently - within the last year - have really bounced back and found myself again after being stuck in that "Frumpy Dumpy Mom" stage.

  Most days now, I do take the time to wand or wave my hair with a flat iron, granted I don't wash my hair everyday anymore so once I style it, the next day's hair is minimal work.

  I have started being comfortable wearing more makeup again.  I don't shy away from doing a dramatic smoky eye look on myself anymore.  I've purchased non-conventional eyeliner colors that I wear on a regular basis.  I have comfortably worn a dark, bold lip to work and then to the grocery store with my kids and not felt embarrassed or self-conscious about it.

  Self-care isn't something to be ashamed or embarrassed of.  I feel better when I take the time to do the things that make me look and feel better.  Whether it be a long bath, a hair appointment to color and hide all the grays that are showing, or just throwing on a little winged eyeliner and a red lip... I can take better care of those I love when I feel better about myself.


3) To be able to fit into my skinny jeans.
  - This has been on my New Years list for several years now.  Every year I haven't made it happen.  This year is going to be the year.  I've set some hefty fitness goals for myself.  Prioritize workouts. Meal plan.  No excuses.


4) Make a solid decision about furthering my education... or not.
  - To commit to going back to school or not.  I feel like every year I toss the idea around and then completely abandon it.  I've been praying for some direction and answers lately and have even looked into some programs.
  It really just boils down to whether or not I feel like I'm using my God-Given talents to their full potential right now.  Is makeup what I'm called to do or is this just an avenue to get me to the next thing?  Ideally, I'm praying to have made a decision / commitment by Fall of this year.


5) Volunteer more.
  - I want to get plugged in somewhere and start giving back to the community...  I do a lot for dogs, but I want to do more for PEOPLE.  Specifically women and teens.  Reaching out to Thistle Farms this week.  Would appreciate any feedback or advice on organizations that might be good for me to look into.


6) Find a church to call home.
 - I've been visiting, but haven't committed to any one church as of yet.


7) Take some classes - just for fun.
  - An art class, a sewing class, a cooking class, a dance class, a DIY class.


8) Home Improvements / DIYing
 - Firstly, I need to paint the walls of this house.  I have all the paint, just ZERO motivation to do it by myself.  I'm going to schedule a paint party and all my friends better come.  Ha!
 - I also want to start tackling all those little things on the home inspection that need to be addressed.  I've always been apprehensive about doing things like that on my own, but I need to get over my fears and just start somewhere.  So, many trips to Home Depot are in my near future.
 - Lastly, I'd like to finally be able to afford putting a fence in.  So I can save more dogs, of course.  Ha!


9) Schedule more time off, mental breaks and mini vacations.
  - We all know I'm a workaholic.  If I'm not working, it's only because I have the kids at home with me.  Mental breaks and mini vacations have never been a priority for me.  This is the year that's going to change.  Hold me accountable.  If I start complaining about working too much, throw chocolate at me and tell me to get lost for a couple of days.  Seriously.


10) Say "Yes" & Say "No".
  - Say "Yes" to doing more things with friends.  Make time for coffee.  Have an impromptu girls day with your bestie or with Em.  Goat Yoga.  Barre class with Holly.  Pole with Steph.  Less excuses.  Make time.
  - Say "No" to cleaning up messes that you didn't make, to mom, to those last minute gigs that come up for the days you already blocked off for personal down time. 


11) Focus on just being happy. 
Pray more.  Worry less.
Choose my battles.  Argue and fight way, WAY less.
Be kinder than necessary.
Look for something good in everyone.
Give compliments freely.
Less "Dumpy Donuts" and don't be a "Debbie Downer".
Be a positive infectious force.
Kick butt, take names.