I have anxiety. I first noticed it after having Owen. I would worry about the usual stuff such as health, safety, work, etc. but with a little extra knot in my stomach. Then, after having Collin my anxiety got worse. I tell myself to chill and remind myself that I’m being overly worrisome. But more often then not I turn into a big ball of nerves. I don’t want to be “that” mom who is overly protective and turn my kids into worry worts. I understand the importance of letting my kids explore and take risks. But it’s hard. Really hard.
I worry that if I have ever have a 3rd kid, I’ll just implode from anxiety. Kidding. Kind of.
What makes me feel better is acknowledging it. Accepting that I have anxiety and that it’s something I have to work on. Just like exercising or eating well, dealing with my anxiety is something that I need to consciously work on. Thank goodness for Head Space, Oprah SuperSoul Conversations, and self improvement books. Also, thank goodness for a patient husband. He would never tell me to chill, rather he just goes along with the wild ride.
Having kids seems to go like this: It takes 9 months to put on the baby weight, 9 months to take it off, and your psyche will never be the same. But I’m okay with that, if I get to look at these two little buggers every day.