Anxiety greeted me as soon as I opened my eyes yesterday morning.
I had a bad anxiety day.
A day where my leg was incessantly tapping on the floor when I was seated.
A day where I felt extra ragey with everyone.
A day where I looked at the man with thick facial hair passing us extra cautiously on our morning walk. Is he following us? Does he look similar to the serial killer on Dateline? Why did he come from off the path in the woods? He must’ve been burying a dead body.
A day where the thought of parenting made me want to cringe because everything made me want to cringe.
A day where I was less patient with my children. The complaints bothered me more than usual. The nagging made my heart beat faster.
A day where the usual requests became fingernails on a chalkboard,
like my eldest daughter wanting a different lunch than I made her after SHE ASKED FOR IT,
like my middle daughter deciding her legs didn’t work and wanting me to carry the baby upstairs and then come back downstairs for her.
A day where I felt like a failure of a mom, wife, and person.
“Why do you sound sad?” My husband asked me on the phone as I drove the kids to the playground.
“I’m just having a bad anxiety day and am feeling bad about myself.”
“Why?” He asked.
Because logically, there must be a reason to feel all the anxious feels.
“I don’t know.”
Because I didn’t know…
Because anxiety isn’t logical.
Because sometimes, anxiety just happens.
Because I didn’t know why I felt this anxious when today wasn’t different from any other day.
Because I couldn’t explain why I was fighting negative thoughts through a smile.
Because I couldn’t explain why everything all of a sudden felt more overwhelming than usual.
“I got to go. I love you,” I said abruptly.
I drove the rest of the ride in silence.
Yesterday I had a bad anxiety day.
But I know from times past,
a good day with anxiety is around the corner.
And we always make it there.