Tuesday, March 8, 2022

You know your anxiety is bad when...

 

I have been legitimately ill for the last few days. Body aches, chills, horrible cough, fatigue, copious amounts of mucus coming from my nose, I look like I have two black eyes and Rudolph the red nosed reindeer rolled into one. I can only breath out of one nostril at a time. Now a normal person would take medication, drink hot tea, soak in a warm tub, use their essential oils, and humidifier, really do what needs to be done to feel better and recover. But not me. One) I can’t take anything other than plain Tylenol or ibuprofen because I am breast feeding, two) I am breast feeding so any chance of sleeping a whole day through is not possible, three) I have small children who have boogers, who incidentally gave me the boogers, four) while I have a husband that can take care of things…ish…while I am sick I can’t rest if my children are upset or screaming for whatever reason, such as he didn’t want the fresh blueberries for the love of God he wanted the frozen ones (this requires full meltdown with face firmly planted on the dirty floor…because I am too sick to clean the freaking floors), and five and final) I am crazy. See when you lay your head down to rest your brain shuts off, mine decides to go through the never ending list of chores, how I am falling hopelessly behind in my training and letting my friends and family down by not at least trying to exercise (even yoga hurts my face right now and like I said, one nostril), how I am horrifyingly overweight and will never catch up, how much I dread going to work in the morning because I know for certain (although I don’t have any proof) there is favoritism going on and I have to go work in an area I can’t stand, but I have to get both kids ready for daycare tomorrow so I better get up even though I know I am going to hit the snooze button at least twice if not three times, I am going to scramble all morning and be thinking of the pile of homework I have to do and OH YEAH…I need to workout, but my face might explode from pressure and boogers.

<<insert panting noise here>>  <<<imagine I said all that like Delores explaining Mirabel finding Bruno’s vision at dinner>>> #disneymom

So this is part of postpartum anxiety. This is why I run and what happens when I can’t do it regularly. Even though, as a nurse, I know I need to give myself time to heal and recover, parts of my brain don’t allow me, to give myself that grace, that rest, that peace, I need to feel better. I am sorry to my family, that I can’t join in our family healthy challenge right now, I am trying. I am sorry to my Spartan team for not training, I am trying. I am sorry to myself for not allowing myself the grace to recover.

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