This is anxiety. This is my life.

This is anxiety. This is my life.

This is anxiety. This is my life.
I sat in my daughter’s room tonight. I was trying to talk to my best friend but tonight like most nights as of late, we didn’t have much we could share. Life’s been so damn busy that it just doesn’t happen anymore. A few minutes here, a few minutes there.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Running after the baby is asleep.”

“I’m at the store.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

And so goes our conversation almost every night of the week. The destination may change. The run may turn into folding laundry but essentially it’s the same conversation over and over. Gone are the nights of deep conversations until 10 or 11pm as we used to put the kids to sleep together at the same time. Tonight I just grab a few minutes of her time and I sit and wonder how I’ll get through the next 24 hours without her by my side. I sit with a cranky, crying baby in the rocking chair as I cry tears myself. I cry because I had a plan to put the baby down quickly but it isn’t happening easily tonight. I cry because I’m exhausted. Every day feels longer than the next. I cry because I need some time to myself but I constantly feel guilty taking it. Tonight was the night I had to myself. My night. My night to do anything and I chose to run. I cry because I’m not so sure it will actually happen. I cry and start to shake. I feel my heart racing because I feel stuck in this chair as the hours pass by and I’m still stuck with a baby who just won’t go to bed. I cry some more as I just want to reach through my goddamn phone and tell my best friend I need her tonight. I needed her a few days ago, too, and last Tuesday.  I cry because I won’t tell her that. Not now. Not anymore. I feel like I’m leaning way too hard in that direction. I’ve felt it for a while now. I’m afraid to reach out tonight. I want to stand on my own. I need to learn how to. It’s becoming increasingly harder with each day and I pray that it isn’t doing more harm than good… but I can’t burden her. I won’t burden her. I won’t lean on anyone. I want to stand on my own two feet for once. Is that too much to ask?

2 thoughts on “This is anxiety. This is my life.

    1. It’s not always easy to show vulnerability. It takes bravery and trust that my words may help some else. Thank you for your kind words

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