The truth of the matter is I don’t know exactly what started my anxiety. Whether it was predisposed, the situation, exhaustion, my physical pain or spiritual. All I know was that it was real. It was suffocating. I swatted at it from every direction (physical/mental/spiritual), just to be safe, and it left me feeling defeated.
Living with pain for over a year taught me a lot. I went from a mom who yelled too much to a mom who yelled all the time. I went from a laid back mom with normal issues to a mom whose life was falling apart and felt I couldn’t control anything. It was 1 car accident on 1 morning. I couldn’t control my house, my kids, or myself.
For a long time I just tried harder. That, and I was angry, sad, all the feelings. I would double down and attempt to push through. I consulted doctors, nutritionists, and my counselor. I yelled all the time because I was dealing with pain all the time. I was failing, and I was mad that I was failing.
My kids showed astonishing resiliency through all of this, at least the first few months. They maintained their childlike laughter which also made me mad. It was too loud, or too rowdy. They could never leave me alone for just 2 seconds.