The Day That Changed The Course of my Life

Chocolate and Wine is the Solution - 20 Sep 16

It was the Summer of 69 (not really it was August 1992) and I was riding my bike to the local shops when, as I manoeuvred around the corner I spotted the most popular girl at my High School standing with her minions outside the local Spar.  This girl was everything I aspired to be; pretty, confident, popular, intelligent and a hit with the boys.  She was 3 years above me at school but everyone knew who she was……

As I nervously approached them on my old knacker of a bike I was so consumed by either looking cool or better still them not noticing me at all that I drove straight towards them and over the toe of her lovely little terrier dog.  The dog squealed and I came off my bike.  And that was the moment my ongoing enemy first reared its ugly head.  After a few dirty looks and remarks from ‘Miss Perfect’ and her cronies, I apologised and dusted myself off feeling incredibly guilty.  I proceeded to spend the entire remainder of my Summer Holidays worrying about the outcome of my error.  I imagined being humiliated and picked on for the rest of my school years for making this terrible mistake.  Everyone in the whole school would know I had injured her poor little dog and hate me, ostracise me… I struggled to sleep, felt sick and hardly ate.  During this time my freshly widowed Father struggled to understand why my behaviour had changed, how could I explain, should I beg him to offer to pay vet’s bills? What if the dog was so badly injured it had suffered an irreversible ailment for life? What if? What if?  The fear was incredible.

First day back in September I imagined running away, how could I face her? I was sweaty, dizzy, heat rose up the back of my neck and I needed the toilet.  How would I survive this?  And what happened? Well nothing happened, she never mentioned it as far as I’m aware to anyone else and there were none of the disastrous consequences I had spent 4 weeks agonising over.  And so began life as I now knew it.  I cannot even begin to create a full list of how many times this has happened since that day.  Yes, the term we now know so well as it is discussed so openly is that I have anxiety.  Back then and well until quite recently I had no clue that this was ‘a thing’ as my 12-year-old Daughter describes such matters.  I assumed everyone spent 99% of their lives on edge, worrying constantly, stomach constantly churning over the next catastrophe.

I have over the last 2 years alone worried myself silly over potential death related situations; do I have skin/bowel/breast cancer? Are my children being bullied/are they ill? Will I go to prison, I think I went over an amber light, got muddled over a financial situation; was it fraud? What crime is it this week? What illness am I dying of? How will my family cope without me, with the shame of a criminal as a Mother?  What if someone sets me up? Falsely accuses me of a crime? What if someone misconstrues something I said? What if they don’t speak to me again, they tell someone else, what if my children end up anxious fools like me?

My confidante AKA my better half is now getting used to my “I need to tell you something” moments whereby I confess my deepest sin and the consequences of this.  He will patiently listen and then rationalise what I have just divulged explaining that it is highly unlikely and followed up by asking me “are you ok?”.  The problem is I am a worst case scenario kind of gal.  Once my mind grasps onto the possibility of the worst possible outcome it embellishes everything, even making the initial ‘issue’ into something far worse.  At times it is totally debilitating; I go back to that weedy little anxious 12-year-old.  I cannot eat, sleep and even making a meal or cleaning my teeth is like climbing a mountain.  Even though every time none of my fears have become a reality (yet).

The thing with anxiety is that besides the valuable time wasted obsessively checking that the perfectly placed carbon monoxide detector works or that all the doors and windows are locked in the hotel room in case one of the children wakes and wanders or worse still someone tries to take one of my precious ones is that anxiety is a thief.  It is a thief that robs me of the joy of life and the future.  Enjoying the moment is rare, for anxiety will conveniently upon the moment of joy plant a seed of suspicion of what may happen should I participate in the simplest pleasures of life.  The over thinking is quite literally coupled with my over active imagination disabling any future plans in my mind.  For of course, anything I plan may not happen as I may be dead, grieving or incarcerated for a crime I didn’t commit.   Anxiety you are one god damn thieving bitch!

One thing that I am sure of is that I will not let history repeat itself if I have anything to do with it.  No matter how heavy my head and heart, no matter what nightmare I am ensuing in my mind I will love and care for my children every day with all my heart.  I will make that favourite meal when I feel sick, I will take you to the park when all I want to do is hide, I will play goal with you when I have no energy because you are what breaks me free. I will smile for you, with you. I will dance round the kitchen with you and teach you how to apply mascara.  I will not allow anxiety to define my most important role in the world as a Mother.  They’re watching me you see, my children, and I don’t want them to see what lies inside, just the love I have for them. So I will battle, I will get through for my tiddly peeps. And anxiety you malevolent beast, you will not win this one; Mrs Pablo 1 Anxiety 0.

Mrs Pablo fearing the worst since 1992.

Chocolate and Wine is the Solution

I'm a multitasking anxious Momma to 3 and I have got my writing mojo back!

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