I’m not an attention seeker. I’m that person who often jokes about the daily struggles but tells you that I’m ok.
The truth is, often I’m not ok. I worry about the tiniest of things and my worries take over my thoughts. I read something recently about anxious people can often seem bossy or nitpick because their anxiety disorder manifests a deep need for control and order; it might not be about how the socks are folded (for the record, I don’t fold my socks but I do like them paired).
Usually when I’m feeling this way out, I close down the communication channels with those closest to me because I can’t talk about the way I’m feeling. I withdraw and try and regroup by using a number of coping mechanisms. I don’t want to talk it through, I need to find the answers for myself.
I have these desires to run for miles on end so that I can think through some of my problems and then spend part of the run just listening to my music. Unfortunately, my head and my body want to do completely different things. Although I desire a 10 mile run, my legs only want to go for three miles.
Nobody puts a greater amount of pressure on myself than me and only me. It’s true that I have to be an efficient employee, a loving partner, mum and step-parent but there are no unrealistic expectations of me. I have an understanding tribe, yet for some reason I want more and more from myself and I can’t figure out why. Even with my running, I often told that I am too critical of myself and I can do it. My fatigued body says otherwise. I recently had some shitty virus (refusing to say flu as it was undiagnosed and don’t want the vaccine police on my case) and all I want to do is sleep. I know that’s my body’s way of trying to recover but I need to be up and doing something.
Many parents are employees and face the usual demands of mixing both. Parent evenings, meetings, out of school activities, to name just a few but I have a few more to add into that equation. The pressure of building an Educational Health Care Plan which will ensure that Joseph receives the appropriate support in school. The pressure of choosing the most appropriate provision for him as he transitions to secondary education and I worry every single day about not getting it right.
It’s true there are never enough hours in one day and I often feel there are so many things I want to do for myself, yet simply don’t have the time to do them. Despite many offers of others to help facilitate that, I don’t want to spend less time with Joseph.
I often need something to focus on, a holiday, a goal but I can’t even sort that. There are a number of races I plan to do, again in my head but I’m scared of the pressure that puts on me to do it so none of them I have actually entered.
It’s Joseph’s birthday in less than a week and I haven’t even bought him a gift – I genuinely don’t know what to buy. It’s a busy week full of other birthdays, parties, Easter Service and a dance presentation. It only seems like two minutes since I was saying life is a struggle and busy with events and it will calm down soon. I wonder whether there will ever be any calm.
There’s a piece I have needed to write for some time and although I generally feel so much better once I have released my thoughts onto paper, it’s one of those topics that I can’t yet face in my head let alone tapping out the letters on the keyboard.
In the midst of this busy period, I’m meeting a friend. One who I have only known twelve months and I have met in person only once. We speak daily and we totally get each other as we live in the same special needs world and face life with the same warped sense of humour. We’re both in need of just adult time and although I’m sure we will fix the world in our 24 hours together, I’m also certain there will be lots of laughs (and drinks).
I’m not indestructible, I’m not superhuman.
I am simply me and now I’m off to pair some socks.