Did I say that?
Turns out that, although I did say it, and do say it often - to myself at least, subconsciously - it is a direct quote out of Louise L. Hay's book "Heal Your Body."
It's the thought process that leads to coronary thrombosis. Heart attacks.
No duh, right?
Anxiety, which I have been feeling ever since I can remember, is not trusting the flow and process of life. All of which is bullshit, because I do trust the flow and process of life. I just don't trust that it will flow well for me because I'm not good enough, I don't do enough and that is why I'll never make it.
All I want is for life to flow better for my children.
Which isn't going to work if I have a massive coronary worrying about which parking spot to take.
Or which route to take to school. Or whether I should give them each two one dollar coins or one two dollar coin.
I'm telling ya, anxiety sucks. And no matter how much I keep telling myself how silly it is to be having heart palpitations over where to park, no matter how much I KNOW this is stupid, I have been having them over parking spaces since I had the twins in Germany. Now THERE was a reason for worrying about parking, but no one cared, no one realised, and now, now here I am in an entire country of people who park wherever they choose, taking spots so large an American AND a German would BOTH shoot them over it! - parking on curbs, on grass ways, on lawns, wherever, really just about wherever you want, with as much distance between as you'd like - usually enough to just about fit in 7/8ths of the car I am driving - and I am still having palpitations.
I have been doing behavioural therapy on myself. Which means that I just go and do it anyway. I park. I tell myself this is stupid and I park. I ignore the feelings of discomfort and I do it.
I don't know if this behavioural therapy is supposed to make a person function better with the disability - which it does, I DO park and I DO park every day, multiple times a day. Or if the feelings are eventually supposed to go away if you just keep doing the action that makes you uncomfortable.
But the feelings aren't going away.
On bad weeks - and YES, they coincide with my cycle, and God help me if this will get worse before it goes away - I also start breathing with difficulty over which route to take to school.
Again, I can talk myself through it. And I do it despite the discomfort. Over and over and over.
But it's terrifying to have to work this hard to do dumb little things you know aren't all that life altering no matter which you choose. (I am going to have a mental word with Milan Kundera - and Nietzsche - about the Unbearable Lightness of Being : turns out Kundera also knows how to use a colon properly in a sentence: this means I can learn two things at once from him!)
I explained to the kids that I feel the way they described after running a 2 km race this week. Aidan's heart was pounding so fast his chest hurt: I said I felt like I am running a race all the time.
Good news is that Louise L Hays has a three sentence fix for what ails me. (I am currently reading Milan Kundera and plan to have a look at Nietzsche but quick and easy is good, right?!)
I have been writing her affirmations in a large notebook: "I love and approve of myself. I trust the process of life. I am safe."
(Meanwhile I am going to use those colons until I get them right!)
I follow it with pages and pages of free writing which usually being with: "No, I don't."
I will spare you the rest.
Instead I am going to focus on the fun things that are happening around here. I firmly believe that these next few years are the best of my life; this despite that my body is physically trying to make me believe otherwise. I don't trust YOU body, so there! (Oh, and I am going to speak to a therapist tomorrow, so no need to worry if Nietzsche ends up being over my head.)
Ian is so much fun. He played in the Pacific Ocean today. And went pee pee on the potty. Three times. And he sings all the children songs with hand motions. Better than any other almost-two-year-old, I am sure.
Ryan is going to be okay. I am doing okay there, I can feel it. (I am just SO EXHAUSTED by the struggle.)
Andrew is entering secondary school. The world awaits him.
And the twins are only 7.
We have so much fun ahead of us these next few years.
Too much to have a coronary thrombosis.
Too much to have a panic attack over where to park.