I’m 22 days into my No Meat Athlete running challenge. Today was the hardest day. I’m exhausted from the wedding festivities of this weekend. I’m anxious because the school year is coming to an end and I’m trying to fit all the rest of the curriculum in. And I was not in a good place. I did not get up and run right away like I’ve been doing every other day of the challenge. Instead, I got up, had some coffee, and started my day. So I had to fit my run into another part of my day. I went out while Little Miss took her nap. It worked out. Mr. Mr got some work done around the house, and I got to go out running.
But it was hard. I only did 12 minutes and I’ve been running closer to 20-25 no problem these days. But I did it! And that’s the important part. I’m looking forward to finishing this first month of the challenge and move into the second month. I’m getting close. Part of me wants to start the next month early, but that would feel like cheating. So I’ll hold off. Just 9 more days until I get to say I finished month 1!
And running has become meditative. It’s so calming just to go and breathe and feel my body moving. I’m so proud of all the hard work I’ve put in.
Anxiety level: High
Panic attacks: none
Current worries: Hey! There is a stomach bug going around the daycare, I confirmed it. Is it the one T already had? Or is it another one I have to worry about? How can I make sure she’s washing her hands when I’m not there?
I need to stop reading articles about the norovirus outbreak in Boston. I need to stop reading articles about stomach bugs. I need to stop thinking about it. Thinking won’t stop it. Thinking won’t stop it. Thinking won’t stop it. Mindfulness. Mindfulness. Mindfulness.
Anxiety Level: High
Panic Attacks: 2 thwarted
Current worries: Stomach bug at daycare, T getting sick, me getting sick, lack of meds, do I need meds, T screaming about her tummy hurting (she kept asking for food though, so maybe she was just hungry).
Anxiety Level- Moderate
Panic Attacks- None
Current worries: Holidays, getting sick, being sick, T being sick, N being sick.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that sometimes I panic in the middle of the night. I’m sorry I choose not to wake up, but instead complain the next day. I hate to wake you when you’re sleeping so soundly and peacefully. I’m sorry for my anxiety. I’m sorry it makes us have to leave parties early, run out of stores when the panic becomes too much, avoid certain social situations because I just can’t manage. I know you’re a social person and I’m sorry to put that damper on your social life. I’m sorry my anxiety makes my worries overcome me. I’m sorry I can’t handle our dear little one being sick. I know you don’t see it as me being a bad mother, but I feel like a failure every time she wants me and I shy away from her feverish body. I keep hoping that one day I’ll be the mother who scoops her up, unfazed and holds her close. I’m sorry I worry about you getting sick and it drives me to push you away.
I’m sorry when the anxiety makes its way into depression. I’m sorry when I get to the point where I no longer want to eat, causing all sorts of other issues. I’m sorry that even though I’m how old(!) I still sometimes want to cut myself to appease the inner 14-year-old drama queen. I’m sorry I’ve questioned whether you would be better off without me. As if, I could/would be able to run away. Where would I go? What would I do without you to counter balance me?
I’m sorry I get headaches as much as I do. I’m sorry I leave you to fend for the little one. I know you always tell me you understand, but know that I truly am, from the bottom of my heart, sorry.
your anxiety? I don’t know, but I’ve started to try again. It’s good to be running again. It’s good to be moving again. I don’t know why I gave it up. All I know is I haven’t been to therapy since June. Copays went up and I need a new coping outlet. I can’t afford therapy. Isn’t that sad? It’s too expensive to pay to talk to someone any more. I guess I’ll be relying on my friend base once again.
Maybe I am.
I recently set my dad up with his own WordPress and I realized I missed mine. I liked having my thoughts out there for no one and everyone. So here is my not so triumphant return. Life is all the same and yet so vastly different.
The anxiety has morphed into a greater beast that I struggle to fight off. But to counter that is T. Ah my T. She’s the sweetest two year old. I can say that because she’s mine. She gives the greatest hugs and knows just went to say I love you. The struggle is worth it for here. I just hope and pray that she doesn’t inherit this anxiety. But at least I’ll know first hand how to help her fight her own demons.