Ready or Not

Hi, my name is Mel (hi Mel) and I have anxiety.  I HAVE anxiety.  I am anxious, but anxiety does not define me.  It is not who I am, at least not anymore (don't worry, I'll share all the gory details later) but it is a battle I wage every day, every hour, every minute, and most seconds (I have the occasional second when I forget what I was worrying about, but by the next second, I have started worrying about the fact that I forgot what I was worrying about and I'm instantly right back on track riding my anxiety freight train).

I had initially planned to start this blog by telling My Story.  I even started it.  It's sitting there in my unpublished drafts as we speak.  I think I started, deleted, reworded, re phrased, and reorganized that beginning a hundred times (only a slight exaggeration.....oh, by the way, Hi, my name is Mel and I am an exaggerator too. . .stick around long enough and you'll see) and since I just couldn't seem to get it right, I left it there.  Now, almost 6 months later, I have decided that I'll share My Story, but in a slightly different way.  In pieces, as I write. As I let you into my crazy world.  After all, isn't that usually the way we get to know someone? So why mess with a good thing?

So, I'm not your typical, average, run of the mill Generalized Anxiety Disorder lunatic (I've never really been good at fitting into a mold).  I love public speaking, most would probably describe me as social, I don't avoid people or places or things (usually), instead, my anxiety evolves.  I've always worried about what others think of me, on and off I've thought I may be dying of some crazy thing (I openly admitted to being a lunatic and I have been diagnosed with some pretty bizarre stuff in my short life span), I've always worried that something might happen to my mom, and I'm pretty much terrified of death (even though I know what I know about dying).  I, however, never gave illness or germs a second thought until I had kids.  I grew up in a home where the ten second rule extended into "if it's not green, growing something, you can still identify it, and it didn't land directly in a pile of poo, then it's probably still good enough to eat."  Disgusting, I know, but that is just how we rolled.  I then married a man who, as most of the good ones often are, was totally opposite.  This is a man who would not eat of sandwich I had prepared if the bread had touched the counter top (who makes a sandwich on a plate, I mean come on!) and would not drink out of a cup from a restaurant without a straw because then his mouth would have to touch the actual glass.  Eating something that had fallen on the floor was a sin second only to murder or using his toothbrush.

Enter our first child. A healthy 4lb 15oz baby boy.  I caught a little bit of the germaphobe bug when the nurses cautioned us to be "careful" with him for the first few weeks.  I forced people to use hand sanitizer in our general vicinity and went through my share of the antibacterial hand wipes (nothing to crazy). Now, enter child number two. A "late pre-term" 6lb 6oz baby girl. . . .in November.  We received a speech similar to what we had gotten with baby number one and I had stocked up on my trusty sanitizers.  Thanks to my super fun post pregnancy hormone roller coaster, winter, and an abnormally awful cold and flu season, I LOST MY FREAKING MIND!!! I was probably borderline committable (I'm pretty sure my husband would have happily signed me away if he hadn't been lacking the goods to feed said infant).  Lets talk about, oh maybe, 5 MONTHS of extreme terror that my baby girl was going to catch the flu and DIE!!!! I cried. I sobbed every night.  I asked for blessings. I PRAYED. I barely left my house.  It really was kind of a nightmare.

Now that my sanity (well, what little I normally possess) has returned, I continue to have a lingering fear of disease when it comes to my children. Once Ty made it to the 6 month mark and we were frolicking in the wonders of summer, I let up a little and the worry (at least that one) ebbed a little until there was an outbreak of hand, foot, and mouth in our ward.  That eased after a couple weeks and things have been pretty germ-freak free until several weeks ago when the Enterovirus 68 fiasco that kicked the anxiety scale up a couple of notches (though still in the manageable range). 

It just couldn't stop there now could it?  As I type this, I have to remind myself to breath and for those of you who are not anxious people, you may be sitting there thinking that I'm crazy or rolling your eyes, but I'm hoping a few of you out there can relate.  I'm hoping I'm not alone. . . because it's hard to feel crazy and alone sometimes.  Ebola.  It's here.  Two nights ago, as I was innocently scrolling through my Facebook feed (don't judge me) I saw the headline.  I read the CNN article. I googled it (never a good idea, and actually I usually have a rule to never google anything health related. . .but I succumbed to the fear).  I eventually landed on the CDC website. I couldn't breath for several moments, my heart pounded, the fear rose tight in my chest, and I wanted to cry.  I spent the next several hours reading everything I could find about the virus and felt some relief in knowing that it is not extremely easily spread as it is not airborne and requires contact with bodily fluids.  Even with that information, with the reassurance of the CDC that it will be contained, I can't quite shake the fear.  Just tonight I learned that Primary Children's Medical Center was evacuated due to a possible Ebola patient. 

I guessing if anyone is indeed still reading this, you are wondering where this is going and if there is even a point to this rambling psychotic woman.  I guess my point is I'm SCARED and I'm hoping I'm not the only one, but I'm also hoping for a little hope, a little light, something that says that I'm not totally off my rocker for feeling a little fear.  In my situation, it's hard sometimes to know where the line between rational, normal worry ends, and irrational fear begins.

That is what this blog is about. Being able to confront fears.  Talking about it.  Not being afraid to share those fears and feelings and hoping your not alone.  We were not put here to face our battles alone and I want other out there to know, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.