Irrational
I'm turning in to the laziest version of myself since my teen years, and even then I was type A-ing my way through school. It seems ridiculous after the fit I threw to get this netbook that I barely use the thing. I think that apps for our phones will be the downfall of casual blogging. If I don't get on the computer to check my email, Facebook, etc.; I don't think about sitting down with my thoughts anymore. It's sad.
It's raining today. It's been raining all day, it seems, but the patter on the roof and streets is soothing. I've had anxiety lately.
Why?
No real reason, because if there was a *real* reason for anxiety we could get control over it, right?
I've been pointlessly concerned over making the announcement on Facebook that I'm pregnant. I've got a lot of family and some fringe friends on there that I'm not comfortable knowing everything. I was going to wait until I was officially in my second trimester, but week 14 starts the day after Mazzy's birthday and I just felt uncomfortable with saying anything at that time. I jumped the gun a bit and got it out of the way. Maybe it will confuse the due date hungry mongrels that are pressuring me for a specific date. I want to scream, "You stupid fuck, due dates don't mean anything. They're just a goal you can't aspire to achieving. I don't need the damn pressure!"
Yes, the due date is something I have anxiety about. I've no desire to put a time table on this pregnancy. I want the baby to bake at its own leisure and the rest of the world can suck it. The doctor will know when it's been too long and that's plenty of reassurance for me.
I remember waiting and waiting and waiting on Mazzy and feeling like, somehow, I was failing my family because I couldn't "make" her come out on a certain day. I don't want that looming over my head this time.
Speaking of the pregnancy, everything is different. My whole approach is more quiet, reserved. I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to have another little baby, but I don't have that magical feeling I had the first time. Maybe it's because I've done it before, or because my first child died, but it's almost mundane. I haven't even taking a single pregnancy photo this time. I think, in part, that was because I feel fat, not pregnant. As soon as my fluff stops looking like fluff I'll take a picture. I don't need evidence I was fat. Right?
There's more anxiety wrapped in all of that. It's not an active anxiety, but a dull hum in the back of my mind that fears that something isn't right. Like I'm not enjoying this the way that I should.
I know from experience that all of this will pass. I will be strong and mighty and whatever hum of disquiet in my head will hush to a memory if I stay true to my heart. I'm remarkable that. (As long as I remember that I'm remarkable.)
Mom is home, now, and the change is sharp. I'd managed to forget what it was like to constantly be on edge because the person that I am can be so damaging to my mom. She reminds me continuously that I'm abrasive, rude, mean, etc. and I'm still capable of being hurt by that. Despite rationally knowing that this dynamic between me and my mother will never change, that the pain between us will never heal, I react. I want to prove her wrong, or lash out, depending on the day, and the cycle continues. There are some people that aren't meant to live together and Mom and I are two of those people. There is no solution, just better ways of coping with the less-than-ideal situation.
I try not to have anxiety about how this will shape my child's future. I've learned that making too many future problems in my head will create those problems in my reality and I don't want to live that way anymore.
I hope that 2011 is starting out well for everyone. There is hope and promise in our lives, we just have to look for it.
It's raining today. It's been raining all day, it seems, but the patter on the roof and streets is soothing. I've had anxiety lately.
Why?
No real reason, because if there was a *real* reason for anxiety we could get control over it, right?
I've been pointlessly concerned over making the announcement on Facebook that I'm pregnant. I've got a lot of family and some fringe friends on there that I'm not comfortable knowing everything. I was going to wait until I was officially in my second trimester, but week 14 starts the day after Mazzy's birthday and I just felt uncomfortable with saying anything at that time. I jumped the gun a bit and got it out of the way. Maybe it will confuse the due date hungry mongrels that are pressuring me for a specific date. I want to scream, "You stupid fuck, due dates don't mean anything. They're just a goal you can't aspire to achieving. I don't need the damn pressure!"
Yes, the due date is something I have anxiety about. I've no desire to put a time table on this pregnancy. I want the baby to bake at its own leisure and the rest of the world can suck it. The doctor will know when it's been too long and that's plenty of reassurance for me.
I remember waiting and waiting and waiting on Mazzy and feeling like, somehow, I was failing my family because I couldn't "make" her come out on a certain day. I don't want that looming over my head this time.
Speaking of the pregnancy, everything is different. My whole approach is more quiet, reserved. I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to have another little baby, but I don't have that magical feeling I had the first time. Maybe it's because I've done it before, or because my first child died, but it's almost mundane. I haven't even taking a single pregnancy photo this time. I think, in part, that was because I feel fat, not pregnant. As soon as my fluff stops looking like fluff I'll take a picture. I don't need evidence I was fat. Right?
There's more anxiety wrapped in all of that. It's not an active anxiety, but a dull hum in the back of my mind that fears that something isn't right. Like I'm not enjoying this the way that I should.
I know from experience that all of this will pass. I will be strong and mighty and whatever hum of disquiet in my head will hush to a memory if I stay true to my heart. I'm remarkable that. (As long as I remember that I'm remarkable.)
Mom is home, now, and the change is sharp. I'd managed to forget what it was like to constantly be on edge because the person that I am can be so damaging to my mom. She reminds me continuously that I'm abrasive, rude, mean, etc. and I'm still capable of being hurt by that. Despite rationally knowing that this dynamic between me and my mother will never change, that the pain between us will never heal, I react. I want to prove her wrong, or lash out, depending on the day, and the cycle continues. There are some people that aren't meant to live together and Mom and I are two of those people. There is no solution, just better ways of coping with the less-than-ideal situation.
I try not to have anxiety about how this will shape my child's future. I've learned that making too many future problems in my head will create those problems in my reality and I don't want to live that way anymore.
I hope that 2011 is starting out well for everyone. There is hope and promise in our lives, we just have to look for it.
Comments
Facebook terrifies me. After losing Mazzy I've become afraid of sharing my life too openly with people. I'm always afraid of bringing sadness or pity in to the story of my life. And after taking 18 months to get pregnant, I just want to hoard the time I have with my baby. Like a miser.
I'm a dork.