My breath catches in my throat and I’m breathing consciously to get through the moment. My heart races and the familiar feeling of anxiety settles deep into my chest. The world around me fades slightly as I focus inwards, on my own internal struggle to get this under control.
My focus shatters as Amy steps on Isaac and tips forwards onto her hands and knees crying, while he screams his displeasure at being trodden on. The dog bites the cat, who runs away knocking dishes off the sink.
Everything lands in a big heap at my feet and I’m left with scattered plates, screaming children and no sense of peace. The world continues on completely oblivious to me.
I pick up my children, comfort them, make Amy say sorry. I stand and swearing, I clean up the plates, dust off my coping strategies and just move forwards.
One step at a time.
***
I’m stressed is what I’m saying.
Quite a little bit.
The anxiety attacks are back with a vengeance, coupled with a complete inability to actually cope with anything.
I’m spending a lot of time swearing under my breath and stomping around the house.
***
I turn the music up loud to drown out the whining and scrub at the bench. If I can just get this clean then everything else will look better and ohmyfuckingGOD.The mess just keeps coming and coming and I’m not sure I could walk through the lounge room without breaking an ankle.
***
Just stop whining. Please, just stop.
You’re tired? Here, curl up on the couch with a blanket.
No, you can’t watch a DVD, you broke the DVD player.
You want a bottle? But you’re a big girl.
I know Isaac has a bottle, but he’s a baby.
Oh. You’re a baby now too.
That would explain the whining.
Can you stop sitting on me?
Please?
Amy, get off me. You’re hurting me.
OY! Don’t pinch me! What a naughty thing to do. Time out! NOW.
You’re sorry? I don’t care. We don’t pinch. Time out.
Now.
Time out.
Walk.
Now.
Don’t go boneless, I’ll just pick you up.
There. Sit there. 3 minutes. We do not pinch. At all ever.
Isaac! I know I’m ignoring you, that’s no reason to squeal.
You’re tired too? Well here, nap time.
Boobs.
You don’t want boobs? You want to look at your sister in time out?
Isaac, fortheloveofgod just feed already.
ARGH! No biting! You’re not hungry.
Bedtime.
You. Back in time out. I didn’t say you could move.
No whining. Stop it.
Sit.
Sleep.
Shutup.
Please.
***
I love my children dearly, but they’re very needy at the moment.
Like –
really needy.
And I’m not sure I can breathe, underneath this mountain of need they have.
***
I knew this would happen. The crash.
Nan died three months ago and for that three months I’ve been caught up in merely moving from one moment to another without thinking about myself. Just getting things done for this family of mine.
Caught up in the coping.
And apparently, the grief has caught up with me.
I miss her so fucking much.
So fucking much.
***
There is stress on top of stress down here and there are only so many balls I can juggle before things start to fall on my head.
***
So I’m turning up the music.
I’m putting one foot in front of the other.
I’m hugging my children.
And I’m letting myself grieve.
Oh sweetheart as I read this my eyes started to prickle with tears but then I smiled at the visual of Amy going all boneless and Isaac wanting to watch his sister in timeout hmmph typical boy, hehehe.
Small steps sweetheart small steps. Mum was our Anchor and we are all cast adrift in a sea of grief. Nothing is right anymore. It all feels wrong,slightly out of kilter and the wrongness is doing my head in.
Hug your boneless daughter for me xoxo
(beautifully written btw)
One foot in front of the other. One hour at a time. One day at a time. You can do this! *hugs*
Just sorry.
Please let yourself grieve. You need to do that for you and for them, the kids I mean. And Nathan too. Sometimes being selfless feels selfish, but if we don’t do what we need to do for us, we can’t give the best of ourselves to our loved ones. So go be selfless for a while and do what you need to do. And remember, the most important things are food in the house and clean clothes. Everything else is a bonus. Be gentle on yourself too.
Sweet heart you do what you need to do. It’s an unavoidable progression and one foot in front of the other is the only way to go. So, hug your babies (and Nathan), cry your tears, and keep walking. Don’t be so hard on yourself, whilst you are not superhuman, you are a wonderful woman with an awful lot on her plate.
Hugs
((HUGS))
Its really easy to forget to breathe – deep breath in, let it out slowly. . . doesn’t fix a damn thing, but. . .
{hugs}
Here. Nothing wise to say. But I’m here.
Hugs to you my friend.xxxx
hi – just came across your blog. I can really relate to your anxiety feelings. It is the worst feeling in the world.
I only have one child a 9 month old and sometimes I feel like I can
t cope – so I can only imagine with 2 and a recent death in the family. When you don’t have time to think your own thoughts the anxiety is horrid.
But, one step at a time and always remember what you do have.
(saying this to myself also – I am prone to anxiety)
Thanks for an honest post I will be sure to read more of your work
Peace!
Put your head on my shoulder and let the tears come. I’ll hold you through this. We’ll have a group hug, you, me, Amy and Isaac, okay? Anyone else want in? I’ll bring chocolate.
Oh sweety, if you ever want to talk, you know where I am ok? Been thinking about you lots recently xx
I’m sure if Isaac could he would have been doing the “Ner, ner, nee, ner, ner.. You got in trouble!!”
And ((Hugs))
=D
I had been surprised at how well you were coping myself. I am sure you are doing the best you can, so I’ll offer no advice except maybe putting a new DVD player on the Christmas list. :p
(((hugs)))
Although I only have 1 at home, I was reading your post and it really hit home for me. I’ve been through this. It sucks, but believe me, you’ll get through it. One dat at a time, one step at a time, one time-out at a time even. We had a very close family member pass in January. You must grieve. Give yourself time for that. It’s going to happen eventually…it needs to.
The anxiety…man have I been there. It’s suffocating and scary as hell. Would your doctor give you something for it? It might sound nuts, but you could also try breathing exercises or visual relaxation. That sometimes works for me.
Hang in there!
Sometmes I read your posts and think, ‘What on Earth am I going to say to that?’ This is one of those times.
The visual was humorous even though I’m not sure if you meant it to be, and a stark contrast from the feelings of anxiety and your grief. I’m very sorry. I wish I could make it all better.
I am echoing the comment above on not quite knowing what to say. But me being me will cobble something together! Also completely agree with Antionette’s words on relaxation & breathing techniques & at the risk of nagging as I know I have mentioned this previously perhaps an appointment with your gp. Sometimes a glass of water helps as it tricks the brain away from the panic.
The children scenario brought back vivid memories from when mine were little – if it helps you are not alone, many will no doubt be nodding their heads. On the mess front, ask for help right out loud, ring a friend and let them know you can’t see the wood for the trees. They will help you out – mine did, you just have to let them. They will wish you had asked sooner. Don’t worry for the minute about paying back favours, good friends don’t expect this. Its worth a shot do you think? By this time I would have tantrumed loudly enough to my significant other that he would have decided it was time to pick some stuff up and help to make a difference.
On music, what genre did your grandmother like?
A track keeps coming to mind on reading your post by JJ Cale whose title I can’t remember but some of the lyrics are ‘don’t take her for granted, she has a hard time, don’t misunderstand her…….
I am off to write a post on my blog titled… PMT & me. It may take a while as my thoughts are jumbled!
I hope to see a post soon from you and we hear you breathe… slow & sure. Your confidence will return as time passes I think; I thought I would never cope again after my grandmother died but in time I realised I could, which I must admit when I realised it to be true came as somewhat of a shock. I woke up one day and just knew she couldn’t bear me not to any longer. xoxoxo
hey there. wish i was just around the corner to give you some help and a hug.
i am so sorry to here hun i truly am..
I am always here no matter what..
ya know where i am..
hugs..
Sorry that it is a tough time at the moment. You need to grieve. I am wishing you strength and good sleep.
Sometimes it does just feel as though you will be torn apart by being pulled in all the needy directions they pull you, doesn’t it? And it’s never quite enough, they all feel a bit cheated – oh wait, I’m projecting my own scenario onto yours. Sorry V. There’s nothing else to day when it is this hard, just that I’m sorry it’s so hard.
gentle hugs.
Sorry. Hugs .
One step at time …this, too, will pass and it will get a little better.
Yes, wishing you strength and a good sleep too. Hope the flodding situation is okay tonight and tomorrow.
Hugs. Huge hugs. I wish I could do more.
Oh I’m sending some hugs and chocolate your way too. We’ve been there; we understand and we know that you are doing a great job even if you don’t think you are right now.
Grief takes time. Lots of time. 2 years in my case. And then one day I woke up and was over it – the feeling of despair, the pain in my chest (due to my broken heart), the never ending feeling that I was never going to move on. I still grieve but I have other things in my life that have filled the void.
As others have said, one step at a time.
Oh love, I am so sorry. I wish I lived near enough to take Amy and Isaac for you for a while.
Keep breathing and keep on with one foot in front of the other. It’s all you can do right now. It will ease, I promise. Shame I can’t tell you when though. Sigh.
my kids drove me batshit crazy too.
sending you hugs. take all the time you need to grieve.
I’m wishing you hugs and chocolate, and 5 minutes for a nice hot cup of tea.
{{hugs}}
no words can fix it
i’m sorry
my kids drove me batshit crazy too.
sending you hugs. take all the time you need to grieve.
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