Recently I’ve been finding myself anxious. Not just your normal butterflies in your tummy nervous about something kind of anxious. Full on anxiety attacks where I picture what is happening with total clarity yet am unable to do anything about it. Even though it hasn’t happened. And in the main is unlikely to happen anyway.
Last week the husband was in Singapore, with limited access to his phone and WiFi, coupled with a 7 hour time difference meaning limited chance to speak with us. In one message he told me he was out but would be home with signal in an hour, the hour passed, then another, and another. Now during that time I had been vaguely productive, I had written blog posts, put the Baby down for a nap and walked to collect the Big One from nursery. But no message back. I was panicking. I was anxious. I was checking the Singapore news for any water park related accidents. I was planning what I would do if the unthinkable happened. Where I would live. If I’d buy a house. I was working through it all when he text me to tell me he was fine, he had no credit, no WiFi, but he was having a good time.
And I didn’t know it but I let out a massive sigh. Like a balloon deflating such was my relief. For even though I knew it was anxiety playing up I couldn’t stop the feelings of tension. Being wound like a spring. Worried. Nervous. Anxious.
Then there was the time that we were headed out to say goodbye to Dubai, leaving the boys with our much loved and trusted babysitter. While I was in the shower washing my hair, I was crying at the thought of leaving, anxious about the fact I was leaving. What if they got sold? Kidnapped? What if I came home and they weren’t there? That they’d been taken. I was paralyzed in the shower with the fear of what might happen. But it’s not something I can put into words. Explain to people. The tightening in my chest as I play out the unrealistic scenarios in my head, needing the grounding of the husband to tell me to think calmly. Rationally. That he’s here.
Which is maybe why I’m anxious. He’s been away. I’ve been here, he’s been there. We’ve been apart for longer than either of us would like, and the strain is showing with me becoming more anxious about the unrealistic. The improbable. The things that have a small, tiny, percentage of happening.
Living in limbo as we have been since the end of March has been harder than I ever thought. It may seem that I take it in my stride, bounce from house to house, smile onwards and upwards. But sometimes these anxious thoughts cloud my mind. One day I was convinced that the husband was going to leave me, bearing in mind he gave no indication of doing so, to the point I was sobbing to him that I didn’t want him to leave and who would the boys call Daddy. So vivid was my attack.
I’d never put myself down as someone who had anxiety issues. I have no problem bouncing up on stage in front of hundreds of people, I fake it til I make it when walking into any form of conference, I was a sales manager in a previous life and you don’t get there being anxious. Or do you?
I think it can effect anyone. At anytime. I think a lot of what is happening with me is because of the uncertainty around our move and our moving date, knowing a new life is getting ready to begin but not knowing when or where. Then I think maybe I’m a naturally anxious person, I have high blood pressure and have had from a young age. I’ve always been a bit of a worrier maybe it’s manifested.
What I do know, is that for me, it’s good to talk. To write. To get it all out. Maybe I am anxious. Maybe I do need to see someone about it. Maybe this is the first step to something more. And maybe it isn’t, maybe this is what I need. Time will tell, our situation will straighten out and as of today we will be a family of four once again as the husband leaves Dubai for good. My rock. My soulmate.
Until then, I will keep waking up everyday, taking it minute by minute, hour by hour. Talking is key, so that those who do know me will know when to nudge me in the general direction of the doctors. Anxious is a state of mind. And one that can be fleeting or can settle over you like a heavy cloak. For now mine fleets. I intend to box it away, put all my unfounded fears into a box and put it out of sight, out of mind. Until then, I’ll keep writing, keep talking, keep banishing the demons.