Dear Baby

I’ve talked about my battles with anxiety on Without Melissa, but I’m not sure I’ve mentioned much here on Dear Baby. I hate anxiety. Hate the way it makes me doubt my abilities. Hate the way it makes me feel. Hate the way it stops me in my tracks. I’ve taken to calling it “Blue Elephants” but despite the cute name - it’s a nasty little hassle in my life.

Overall, I’m managing fine. More than fine, really. My work is fast paced and creative, my home life is filled with love and laughter, and I generally feel like I’m doing the best I can at juggling all that life throws at me. I am a mover. It’s in the core of my being - always going and doing - as that’s what feels best. It’s when I crawl into bed at night that I feel anxiety creeping over me like a dark shadow. It starts at my toes, rises to my chest, and settles there like a heavy anvil.

Sometimes everyone in my house will be sleeping soundly, and I’ll be laying there, eyes wide open in the dark room. Most often, I don’t even know what I’m anxious about. I couldn’t verbalize it if I tried, but I just feel it - pressing me to the bed and holding me there while I beg sleep to come.

Motherhood has made some aspects of my battle with anxiety better and others, worse. Growing, birthing, and caring for Everly has grown my confidence in my abilities far beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before. When it comes to ensuring that she has all she needs to grow up healthy and happy in life, I feel confident 100% that Brent and I are the absolute best people for the job. At the same time, I’ve had to really battle the overwhelming sense of protectiveness I’ve found since having her. It’s the things I can’t control - the diseases, the dangers, the bad people out there that sometimes leave me battling an invinsible, internal struggle to stabilize my emotions and my fears.

I could feel the sharp tip of anxiety poking my ribs for most of yesterday. Whenever I took a break from a work project to read the news headlines or send a text home to Brent. As I went about cooking dinner and household chores that needed to do that night. When I held a sleeping Everly to my chest and listened to her sweet, perfect little breaths before I put her down for the evening. It was just waiting for my mind to quiet of action so it could spring itself on me.

But I was in no mood to feel beaten down. I just wasn’t up for it and so I fought back as best I could. I drew myself a hot bath, lit a candle and grabbed the book I’m in the middle of reading. I sat in the still of our bathroom and let my mind wander through the story at hand. Let my body soak until the water began to cool. and then I drained the tub and filled it again. I stayed there for hours.

At one point Brent brought me cold watermelon slices. those helped too, more than I expected. And while it’s not always a proven recipe for overcoming my anxiety, last night it worked. and I fell asleep with nothing on my mind except the sounds of the snoring Boston Terrier at my feet.

Love,

M