Coping With Change

I swear I'm going to be an awful complaining old person.
I'm already like a grumpy old lady and I'm not even 40 years old!
I hate change.

And while I know that change is necessary for progress, and something I facilitate within my own life, some change just sucks.

My local supermarket closed on Saturday.

It seems petty, but it really is a big deal.  I mean, our kids cried, and we had to make a special trip to go and say goodbye.

My kids dig Stickman

It's not just because it's Pak 'n' Save and it's affordable and less than ten minutes from home and the kids love Stickman.  It's not just because I know the layout and write my shopping lists via an imaginary walk-through down its aisles.  It's because we know the people who work there.  Many of those wonderful people have been a regular part of my life since we moved out West more than seven years ago.  They have seen me through pregnancy and crying babies.  They have seen me in tougher times, armed with a calculator and in better times with treats in the trolley.  They have showered our children with free teeny chip packages from unexpectedly opened multi-packs.  The staff at Alderman Drive Pak 'n' Save have been a big part of my life for the last seven years.

And now they won't be any more.

And what makes the whole thing worse is that how the owners went about this was not the best.  Sure, as a customer the store had some great deals prior to closing.  But the staff there were not offered a fair redundancy*.  And few have jobs to move on to.  And they have had to endure the whole will they-wont they back and forth over when the store would close.  I've been in that position myself and I can tell you it's really not fun.  Those people who have made us feel so welcome in our local community, many of them are now jobless after, for some, decades of good service.  I am mourning for those wonderful people.

And I am dreading having to do the grocery shopping this week.

Countdown cannot tempt me with
their parental guilt traps...      

My next closest supermarket is the Westcity Countdown.  But our food budget doesn't stretch to Countdown prices without making some serious sacrifices.  Our next best option is Pak 'n' Save on Lincoln road.  But it's on Lincoln Road.  And it's huge.  And huge shops freak me out.  I will have to learn a new supermarket layout.  I will have to change my usual tightly timed Thursday shopping schedule to accommodate an extra 20 minutes for travel time.  And no-one there will know me.  No-one there has watched my children grow up.  No-one knows my name.  That might change in time, but currently, I'm resistant to it.  It's not my supermarket.  I don't know how it can be.  I am currently bereft of a supermarket.

And I haven't just lost my supermarket.

My chemist is also closing this week.  This is completely understandable.  The Chemist Warehouse has opened up across the road, and if it's affecting aspects of my workplace's trade (which it is) it will certainly be affecting theirs.  While this isn't as big of a shock - while my chemist is not such a big part of my life, it's still sad.  And again, many of the staff do not have jobs to move on to.  Many of the staff have worked there for a long time.  This closure will impact on their lives in a big way.

There are plenty of other chemists nearby, but, sadly the cheapest and closest option for us is the very reason my chemist has closed.  I've only been to The Chemist Warehouse once and it is really not my cup of tea.  Like the Lincoln Road Pak 'n' Save it is huge and overwhelming.  But like my chemist, there is no charge for prescriptions.  And when you, or others in your household are on more than one regular medication, avoiding this cost really makes a big difference.

Where have all the postboxes gone?

And our postboxes over time have gradually disappeared.  I filled out my voting form for the local body election ages ago, but am yet to post it as I am unsure as to where I can post them any more.  And I don't trust the post box maps online because the last time I tried using one, it was out of date.  I have to drop the forms off to my local library today because it's now past the time that I can post my forms.  I don't post things often, but when our electoral system, hospital system and social service systems (WINZ) are still dependent on snail mail, it's quite important we can still easily access post**.  I mean, if they have real concerns about voter turnouts maybe this is a simple thing they could consider.  If it affects me, a relatively 'young' person, what impact will this have on older folk, or people in poverty, or folk with health or mobility issues?

Some changes are made without consideration of their wider impact.

I know that my reaction to these changes is probably bigger than it maybe should be.  But when you're overwhelmed by big changes, every little change becomes harder to process.  The last two years have seen huge changes for me.  Issues within my broader family have meant major changes to our family life. Where we used to have a huge extended family Christmas dinner, last year for the first time ever, it was just our wee family of four.  We have had to make big changes in order to keep our family safe.  And while those changes have been by no means ideal, they have been necessary.

Sometimes we have to make drastic changes to work toward changing this culture

And while all change is hard, the reality is that it is necessary for growth.  As a nation, our family violence rates are appalling.  And when in our own lives, we actively, or inactively allow abusive relationships to foster and grow, we are contributing to this.  I know this is something that we can change.  I know exactly why this change seldom happens because I live with the consequences of my choices around this every day.  It's not easy.  I am labelled a 'shit stirrer'.  I am told I don't understand the value of 'family.'  By calling out abusive behaviours I have become a target for further abuse.  This isn't exactly fun.  Actually, it's quite lonely.  But I want to build a better world for our children, and in order to do that I cannot allow abusive behaviours to manifest in either mine, or their lives.  I refuse to normalise abuse because 'Aunty Betty is just old fashioned.'  It's just not ok.  I don't want my kids to ever think that's ok.

I think one of our biggest problems is we are not taught to recognise abuse
Here are some of the warning signs.

I know that for those staff from Alderman Drive Pak 'n' Save and Westcity Life Pharmacy this change is hard.  But I hope that this is one of those changes that is for the better.  I hope they get to move on to places that actually pay them what they're worth (Pak 'n' Save and Countdown union members are both fighting for Living Wage).  I hope they move on to places that appreciate and understand the experience they have gained in the work they've been doing and recognise how good they are at dealing with people.  I really hope that the Auckland Zoo Gift shop re-looks at their applications and realised they missed a gem in not even giving Kat Stellar an interview.  I can think of no other person who would be more enthusiastic, better with children or experienced, to do that job amazingly well.

Change is hard, but I always hope that with it comes positive growth.

I went to Pak 'n' Save on Lincoln Road for a recce yesterday.  It was awful.  The kids hated it.  There were too many people and too many things to shop.  But I found some reasonably priced chorizo, something not at my old Pak 'n' Save.  And I don't eat that stuff, but Murray does.  So I built him a pizza with it because I was going out for a work dinner and felt a little guilty.  And he said that pizza was so delicious he ate the whole thing and had none left for lunch the next day.

It's a small win, but it's a start.

*  There is no point going into details, but I do know some of the details and it is extremely unethical, particularly toward the staff that have been there for longer than the current franchise owner.

** It now costs $1.30 to send basic post within NZ now.  That really isn't accessible.  Particularly for the elderly, many of whom still rely on post and many of whom are reliant on a pension to survive.

On Sitting My Restricted License And Failing

So we got a little extra money, so I ovaried up and booked my restricted license test.

I even managed to go and sit it.  And guess what? 

It went even worse than I imagined.

Truly.  I imagined it not going well, but maybe being ok (and maybe even magically managing to pass it).  But that didn't happen.

I didn't even go to the right place for the test!  I thought it was at the AA, but it was actually at the testing station up the road.  And even though I'd read everything several times over, and had checked the directions and everything I still got that wrong (shows how strongly anxiety can work to sabotage things huh).  So before I even arrived I was anxious because I got there 10 minutes later than I was anticipating being there and wasn't sure I'd have my paperwork done in time.

And then the L Plates I'd bought from a $2 shop (cos I'm bad and don't use them usually) started to peel off in the sun!  And then I didn't know where the demister was (and was totally not expecting her to ask me where it was) because we always have it set on 'demist' and I just turn it on.  And then, because of how the parking works at the testing station, I had to start my test with a reverse hill start in a manual.  And I stalled the car.  And then I actually almost had a car accident during the test (this is not something that usually happens when I drive the car).  But the test was over even before that because I had already failed on points.  It was horrible, horrible, horrible.

And I don't want to say 'I told you so' but I did.

How did I know this would happen?

Because I:
a) haven't had any lessons or practice tests (have been too anxious to even turn up to those I've booked so have thrown that money down the drain)
b) hate driving
c) have had such anxiety around the idea of doing this test that I'd delayed doing it for over 15 years.
d) have watched enough horror movies to know that when people are in an extreme state of fear they will do stupid things: ie: run into oncoming traffic to escape a movie monster (which is pretty much exactly what I did during the test)

But I had to do it.  I know this is totally the backward way to do something but I had to go to the test to know that I could go to the test before I could make myself invest further in going to do the test.

I know that sounds crazy.  It's because it's totally crazy.  Anxiety isn't a rational thing.

But it is a real thing.  Which is why it's frustrating when you have people constantly saying 'You'll be fine.  You'll ace it.  It's no big deal'  Because whilst you know these people are meaning well and trying to be kind and good and all it's just not realistic.

And maybe it's harder (in a teeny way*) for those of us who don't seem as anxious as others.
I am one of many other humans who (for the most part) is a regularly functioning person with mental health issues.  My illness is pretty much completely invisible.  So when you tell someone you have it, their inclination seems to be to either not take you seriously, or disbelieve you entirely.  And while I'm out and proud and honest online about my crazy, in my daily life I seldom mention it.  Because it seems incongruous to my personality for most people, so it's difficult for them to understand.  And because it's not a necessary fact to know about me it's just easier not to have this conversation. 

On this occasion I did try.  At the outset of the test I told my instructor I was very anxious.  She told me this was normal.  I was like, no seriously, I've been delaying this for 15 years - I'm very anxious.  Then, because I seemed fairly calm initially, she was quite shocked when I had a total and absolute sobbing breakdown panic attack in the car following the test.  She even said 'You seemed so calm' in spite of me having told her about my chronic anxiety specifically about the test.

She then decided that my anxiety must have been about my failure and was lovely and tried to tell me all the things I did well, and that she'd love for me to resit with her again because I just needed some coaching on some small things, and it would be ok.  And she thought I just didn't even know what the test entailed - cos if I had have I would have surely done better (I did know, I just couldn't do all the things cos I was just trying to follow her instructions without crying or vomiting so my attention to detail/mirror checking was definitely shit).  But because she was trying to be helpful she didn't get out of the car for ages which - because I was anxious about the situation of the test - was all I needed her to do to be able to calm myself down.  So every word she said made my panic attack worse

And then she finally did get out of the car, and Mum came to drive us back (I was in no fit state to drive) and then she came back.  She wanted to give me the name of an instructor.  And it was horrible, because I know she was just trying to be helpful, like, beyond the call of duty helpful, but I couldn't even deal with her because I just needed for that test, and everything about it, to be over.

So yep.  I failed. 

But I sat the test.

I actually did something that terrified me more than most things in this world.

Prior to booking the test, I decided that I would give myself a big reward for just going.  Because it might not seem like much to anyone else, but to me it's like climbing Everest.  So because we had a little extra money I'm doing something I've always wanted to do, and will be booking a shark snorkel at Kelly Tarltons*.

And immediately following my test due to roster changes, and under-staffing, I had a 9 1/2 hour shift at work.**  Sounds awful, right?  Well, it was tiring, but it was perfect.  Because it ensured my panic attack curtailed itself quick smart and I couldn't dwell on that stressful time in the morning.  And because it was actually a pretty good day at work, I couldn't even say I'd had a shit day - because it just wasn't true.  I had had a hard day, but a very productive day.

Driving = absolutely terrifying.  Shark diving = so excited!

I was going to book my shark dive for the day following my test, but thankfully decided to wait a bit.  Because the day after I was absolutely exhausted.  Massive panic attack plus long shift at work made for chronic 'meh'ness.  That absolutely drained feeling.  Like, I had no emotions left.  Like how you feel after three days crying on the couch after absolute heartbreak.  Or in the first week with a new baby.  Totally empty.

And I have to do it all over again.

I don't resent this.  Sure - I don't want to be doing it again, but I also don't want people who aren't great (or observant) drivers on our roads.  So if I didn't make the grade that's ok.  I just have to try again.  And the best thing about this is that it's a lesson for my kids - who know I hate driving - that we aren't always perfect.  And that if we fail we just have to keep trying.

And next time it'll be different.  Hopefully.  Hopefully with a different result.  If not I'll be ok.  I know numerous people who've failed at least once - and even know of one person who had to sit seven times to pass.  It's not an easy test.  And now I've done the awful thing I know I can turn up to a driving lesson to practice for the next test.  I know I can do better.****  And because it is no longer the 'unknown', I know that next time I'll be less anxious.


* Because being non- functionally anxious is fucking hard.  I mean, I am able to get a license, have a job and (most of the times) leave my own home so I've got things pretty easy in the big picture scheme of things.

** Just a cage dive.  We aren't totally rich, but it will still be totally friggin awesome!

*** Not only that, but because I was the only staff available for cover I got a text from my colleague saying she really had to pee so to come to the clearance store to cover her first.  Which meant I got to work pretty quick smart.

**** And I will resit with the same instructor if possible.  Even though she didn't understand my panic attack she was really lovely and truly did care and genuinely wanted me to pass.  And I do appreciate that.  (and it'll be another not new element having the same instructor which will help me feel less anxious)

On Not Being Ok

So I wasn't lying that other time when I said I was ok.  I was.  Truly.  But now I'm not.  That's the fun thing about mental illness.  It's all swings and roundabouts and it never, ever stops.

The awesome thing about having been through this all before though is that I am slowly learning to recognise when I'm not ok a little earlier.  So what that means is that while I'm not ok at the moment, I'm not terrible.  I'm not dangerous.  I'm not crazy - I just know that if I don't do anything I will no doubt become so in time.  And because of my history, and because I am already on medication for anxiety (sertraline - only relatively 'safe' one for pregnancy/breastfeeding) shortly after telling my Dr I was not ok BAM!  There are phone calls from three different places all at once.

Because while the government is crappy and has removed much funding and resources for mental health (and health in general) it appears they are still a bit freaked out about Mums killing their babies.  So while I'm not at MDK* level as yet, it's nice to know that they will still step in to check and ensure my family is safe.**

And they are.  I don't want to even be seen as someone's 'mad Mum' so I managed to access help BEFORE it got to totally that crazy person point.

*                            *                            *                            *                               *                            *       

As things stand now, I'm actually really good.  I started writing this post a few weeks ago, but haven't had time or brain to continue it until now.  One of the things with my particular type of crazy and having had it for a while is that as soon as I ask for help, I immediately feel better.  Consequently, asking for help starts me on the road to getting better immediately.

The first thing that happened after talking to my Dr is I received a phone call from an agency to have an interview with a Dr, a maternity mental health worker and a psychologist at my home.  The second thing that happened is I had a phone call from the counselor who works in conjunction with my Drs to arrange for a counseling session (I can get four for free through my Drs). 

And while the counseling has not been especially helpful*** that meeting at home with the three professionals was brilliant.  For starters I discovered I'm on a very low dose of my medication so have a lot of wriggle room there if I feel like it's not quite enough.  While I haven't as yet changed my medication, that was extremely helpful to know.  It made me feel like things were not that bad at all as I was actually almost coping with very little back up - which is almost as good as coping!

It also helped me realise the main reason I was so unwell was because I was not sleeping.  Duh?  Of course people who don't sleep start to go a bit nuts!  But pinning down that simple thing when you are sleep deprived is not so simple.  This also made me feel again like given the circumstances I was not such a crap loser Mum after all.

And the lovely maternity mental health lady has been brilliant.  She has visited me once a week every week since this first meeting just to check in on how I'm doing.  Because she is just a nice person this doesn't feel threatening, just actually helpful ie: I don't freak out and clean my house before she's due.  She also hooked me up with an anxiety group for Mums which is brilliant.  It's nice revisiting CBT and also just talking about normal stressful Mum crap with other Mums in the same boat as me.  And there are nannies there who mind our littlies so we can attend!  This week I also discovered a shower nearby so am seriously considering dropping Abby off with the nannies and showering before the group.  Double bonus!

And while the external help has been amazing, the thing that has got me most on track to being ok is that Abby has changed.  With age and osteo I no longer have a baby that screams whenever awake, and especially from 4 - 10pm.  I now have a very happy, very fat, very tall baby who is a total sweetheart.  Sure, she doesn't sleep properly and cat naps just like Etta did and still has to co-sleep at night (hence my being so tired) but she is hitting milestones and smiling and not screaming at me all day. 

You cannot overestimate the impact being screamed at constantly has on a person.  Seriously.  Especially when it's from someone you are supposed to care about.  It's awful.  It's nerve-wracking.  I am sure it must have been used as a method of torture at some point in history.  And if you've also had no sleep it's completely insanity-driving.  All Mummies of refluxy/colicy/sick/sad/scream-all-the-timey babies are fucking champions just to survive each hour of screaming.  I am glad that I no longer have to be one of these champion Mummies because it's been one of the hardest things I've had to do in all my life.

 My happy 15 week old Abby not screaming

Now that the screamening is over there is room in my brain for actual thoughts.  I can remember what it is to be someone other than a slave to the scream.  And I can spend time with Etta and feel like I'm being a proper Mum again.  And even play board games with Murray occasionally and feel like some kind of a partner.  And now Abby is (cat) napping during the day in her bassinet I even get a little time to myself sometimes.  Quiet time.  Time to just sit and focus on myself as an entity for a bit.  And just being able to do that, to quietly sit, is what is really helping me to be ok.

*Murder Death Kill.  Get some Robocop in you ya'll!
** It would be even nicer if the government cared about me before I had kids but it seems like maybe that's asking for too much

*** Counseling has never been my bag.  Given how long I've been in and out of therapy (almost 20 years) I feel like I know more than she does and everything she says is just boring old lady advice.  But I'm going.  I don't want to get in trouble or feel like I'm not doing 'all I should' to be 'well'.  Sigh.  Only two sessions to go.

Survival Techniques

What writing with two littl'uns looks like...

 

I'm not doing so well right now (I'll write more about that at a later date), and one of the things that's making things particularly difficult is the whole no-time-for-self-care dealio.  You think is hard with one littlun, with more than one - you're kidding, right?  The things I used to do to manage my anxiety are just not possible to do on a regular basis when responsible for two tiny humans.

The sorts of things I used to do were not epic.  They were simple things involving time alone like taking a bath, going for long walks, swimming, writing and making art.  The operative word here being 'alone'.  Abby is still a very tricky wee babe.  While on occasion we can get her to nap in her bassinet, she still much prefers sleeping on people.  This means on days where I don't have help at all, I am almost never alone. 

So I'm attempting to find small things I can do every day (or at least, most days - no pressure) to stay sane - things that I can do amongst the chaos of a crazy toddler and a high needs baby.

1) Be Grateful
And I usually am, but I didn't realise studies have shown that writing it all down can actually help you feel better!  No matter how bad the day is there are always simple things to be grateful for.  Every day I will take a minute or two to write down three things I am grateful for that day.  Doesn't matter what it is, so long as I write it down.  And I can do this with a baby on me (as she is now).  I can even be grateful for baby-on-me related things: I am grateful that my baby keeps me warm.  Pretty straightforward.

2) Have A Cup Of Hot Tea  
So if you are childless you'll be all like hey, what's the big deal?  It's tea.  But if you aren't you'll be like 'lady, are you fucking out of your mind?'  This simple thing becomes like climbing the Himilayas once there are children in your home.  The usual go of things is you brew the tea.  You forget you have brewed the tea.  You microwave the cold tea and put milk in.  You take a sip.  Something goes crash off in the distance of your bedroom.  Two hours later, you remember you had tea.  Or you have attempted to hide your tea out of reach somewhere so your toddler doesn't have a fit and destroy it.  And then you forget where your tea is.  And then two days later you find it.  Ew.  Sigh.

I officially take back my cup of tea.  I am going to try very hard to have one HOT cup of tea whilst Etta naps every day.  Is this achievable?  Maybe not.  But I will try dammit!  Even if I get it right half the time I will be having much more hot tea than I am currently.

3) Baby Dance
What's there to do when you have a baby who often cries unless held and rocked by a standing human?*  Baby dance!  While I think the fun of this will wear off pretty quick smart if I did it ALL the time I have to hold and rock her, I'm definitely gonna do this at least a few times a day to break the boredom.  Free exercise equals free endorphins equals good counter play against depression.  Plus Etta loves to dance.  Can totally get her to come to the baby-scream-rock-dance-party.  When life gives you lemons and all that.

4) Get In The Garden
I used to hate weeding.  It's one of those jobs that you're just gonna have to do again every few weeks.  It feels so futile.  These days however, you'll find my garden's actually weeded.  Why?  Cos it really chills me out.  It's a good physical job that I can do for five minutes to an hour depending on how much I want to do. And it shows results quickly so I feel like I've achieved something.   Plus a well kept garden produces a better harvest - which is not only great for our tummies and our wallets, but is an awesome thing to teach the kids.  Also, on an aside, this means I have finally chopped our bamboo back into submission.  Thank you anxiety!

5) Adult Colouring In
You know you're a parent when your partner buys your toddler a colouring in book and you get jealous... I wanted my own colouring book.  Of course, I hadn't realised this until I saw her one. Luckily (and randomly) a friend posted about adult colouring in downloads the same day!  They are way better than those in Etta's book (hers are lame) and you can colour with just one hand (whilst holding a baby) AND whilst your toddler also colours in.  Of course, I've had to print out some of these for Etta too as she decided mine was better than hers, but hey, small sacrifice for big reward. 

Am I trying to relive my childhood here?  No.  I just find colouring in very therapeutic.  It puts you into a state of mindfulness without having to think about it.  It fills the gap that knitting once filled which I have no brain or hands for currently (cannot knit whilst holding this baby - she is too big - I could do it with Etta).  The only decisions I have to make on this page are what colour to use and where to put it.  Way easier than other normal grown up stuff like mortgage rates, wills and insurance.  I take colouring in over that any day of the week (unless we were gonna lose our house or something, then I'd put my grown up pants back on and put the felt tip down).

6) Do A Random Cleaning Job
Every day.  Just a five minute one.  Just clean something that hasn't been cleaned really before but should have been.  Like the doors.  Or the laundry cupboard.  Or the top of the washing machine.  I'm pretty on top of the usual every-day stuff (washing dishes, clothes and vacuuming) but this is stuff that always needs doing and never makes me feel good doing it.  Cleaning or organising something else will help me feel like I've achieved something without feeling like I have to clean, sort out or organise EVERYTHING instead of better utilising my time (like spending it with the kids). 

This makes me sound like some kind of clean freak.  I'm not.  If you've been to our house you'll know this.  There's just so much that needs doing it gets on top of me.  And because I'm a stay at home Mum I (get this) am at home a lot.  My environment totally has an effect on my mood.  Doing something to manage my environment is definitely good for my mental health.

7) Writing 
Yes, it may have taken me four days to write this pretty straightforward list post - but I still did it!  It's still good for me, even if it's done whilst balancing a squalling bubba on one arm and typing with one finger.  Or leant back with a sleeping wrapped up bubba squished up next to my cheek.  It helps me vent my joy and frustrations and discoveries whilst feeling like I'm connecting with people.  Without having to talk to people**.  And it doesn't need to be perfect, or even good to do so.  So it's definitely still worth doing - for me anyway (maybe not so much for you readers... Sorry).

8) Sit the Fuck Down
I am not very good at this.  I am a fidgety, use-my-time-well, never-without-a-task person.  I find it difficult to rest when things need doing around the house.  Which is all the time.  But this idea works in conjunction with the cup of tea.  I will try to sit down and not clean, and not write lists and not go crazy for 10 whole minutes while Etta naps.  I will try.

9) Wine
This is definitely not an every day thing.  But I love wine.  Having kids has not changed this fact.  There is still nothing quite as nice as sitting down after a hard day with a hearty meal and a glass of good pinot.  If anything, having kids has made drinking wine even more enjoyable (and cheaper as I just have the one.  So exhausted I'd be smashed if I drank more).

* Don't you dare sit down.  She can tell if you sit down.  The screaming begins again the moment you try to sit down.   You must stand for the Abby you lazy grown-ups!

**  Not because I hate people, but because when I'm unwell I'm quite scared of interacting with people.

On anxiety round 476... FIGHT

Ah, anxiety.  I know you well.

I am one of those anxious people who usually has my anxiety managed well enough that most people don't notice, or don't believe me when I say I have anxiety.  Also, most of the time I'm fairly asymptomatic, and usually when it gets bad I do something about it pronto.  BUT, anxiety can creep up on you.

And my anxiety is of the social kind.  Yes, I'm a people person.  Yes, I have a bunch of friends and overshare way too much via social media, but that's irrelevant.  Cos when my anxiety is bad I tend not to leave the house, and sit comfortably behind my keyboard maintaining my façade of being a happy but busy person, from afar.

People close to me (ie: the few that see me) can often tell my anxiety is getting bad because I'm just a straight up bitch.  I'm bossy.  I'm not good at controlling my impulse to control my environment.  I can be straight up mean.  And it's no excuse, but it's because every aspect of being around other people, including those close to me, makes me uncomfortable.  Because adrenaline is usually coursing through my veins, so I either want to punch things or cry.  And it will just be because dinner might be running slightly late, or the drinks aren't cold, or my baby isn't asleep yet.  Things that aren't usually a big deal can't help but be when the chemicals coursing through your bloodstream are telling you they are.

When my anxiety is really bad, I can't leave the house because I have no chance of controlling anything.  I am afraid of many things including the following:

1.       I might see my neighbours and they will know I am crazy

2.       I may run into someone else I know and they will know I am crazy

3.       I may have to converse with a stranger and they will know I am crazy

4.       I may have to converse with a shop keeper and they will know I am crazy

5.       I may run late for (and miss) the bus, making my anxiety worse

6.       I may be early for the bus, and in waiting, make my anxiety worse

7.       I may cry in public

Because even though I come across as a confident person, I'm actually a total wuss.  And I don't like people seeing me at my most vulnerable.  Not any people.  Not those close to me, not total strangers.  No-one.  I want to cry alone and eat chips in front of a crappy movie.

So when it became apparent recently that my anxiety had gradually crept up to too-anxious-to-leave-the-house status I thought I better go to the Dr.

But that was hard.  And not just because it involved leaving the house.  It was harder than usual because these days I have another beyond my control factor to take into account when trying to do anything - a baby.  Calling and making the appointment was the easy part.  I booked an appointment for a time that would usually be pretty ideal for how Etta does stuff during the day.  But being that she's never really been that routine a baby, I had to wake her up from her nap to get to the bus on time.  And because I knew I had to leave the house, my anxiety had been building since I put Etta down for her nap.

And it didn't subside until well after I got home from the Dr after having to wait for 20 minutes to see him, talking about my anxiety, getting bits shoved up my hoo haa (smear),filling a prescription, eating something (hadn't eaten since 8am as forgot because I was anxious), and getting a bus during peak traffic with a cranky bored baby.  But I managed to leave the house.

And hopefully soon I won't feel so bad.  Although I haven't been on anxiety medicine in about four years, I decided in this instance that it was not a bad idea.  With being responsible for another person 24/7 it's difficult to do the things I usually do to help get my anxiety back on track.  Where normally I would just try to sleep more, it's something not that easy to control with a baby who wakes 2 - 4 times a night*.  My standard exercise (walking) has currently been thwarted by crazy hot sun, and anything else requires another person to look after Etta (um, bonus person + social anxiety = scary).  We are working on getting me more alone time with having Daddy/Etta Sundays, which is great, but not a magic fix-all.

So, yet again, I will be ok and life will go on etc etc overcoming stuff yada yada.

Just one FYI to 'normies' dealing with people with anxiety - telling someone with anxiety they just need to 'chill out' is not great advice.  It's like telling someone with insomnia they just need to get some sleep...**

*I'm also a super light sleeper.  I wake up when the neighbours baby wakes up.  It's not all Etta's fault.

** Or telling a depressed person to just smile... Let me just remind you that these are mental health conditions.  If it were as simple as an anxious person just going 'Wow!  I never thought of that before, I will just chill out' then we'd all be doing it.  Chilling out is something we may actually do cognitive therapy to achieve.  Rational solutions aren't always that rational when applied to us 'crazies'.  If you can't find something constructive to say when someone tells you this stuff - I advise just giving chocolates, or whatever you keep in your handbag:
'Oh, it sucks your anxiety is so bad.  Here, have some chocolate' or
'Oh, it sucks your anxiety is so bad.  Here, have some ketchup from McDonalds, 10 cents and this perfume tester'