Sometimes I wish I were Moses and possessed the power to part things like the sea of humans threatening to trample me in the mall but the sad fact is I will never be Moses and rock a beard — unless something horribly goes wrong in menopause.
Crowds make me anxious which is why I always go shopping early in the morning to avoid such catastrophes as trampling.
Know what else makes me anxious?
Showing up to the mall too early.
This is my struggle.
This is how god damn ridiculous my anxiety has gotten.
I showed up to the mall when it opened and then I thought:
“I might be the only store patron in there and then they’ll all be staring at me the entire time.”
“The employees never like the first customer. Ever.”
So I waited in my car until my armpits sweat poutine gravy and a bunch of other people questioned if they should call 911 because there’s an adult human in a car with the windows rolled up in the parking lot.
I feel like I’m doing something wrong.
Life isn’t swirly, whirly, churny, upside, downy. It’s just fine.
It’s road tripping to beaches that we haven’t visited in three years.
It’s reading books with my son crammed on our small couch and kicking ass in road hockey and park play dates and sitting in the grass.
It’s night walks and finding leftover stones from our camping trip in the washing machine.
It’s going out to dinner to celebrate another year — life with friends sharing September birthdays (and an August one) and just chatting and laughing and all those things that make friendships grand.
See, it’s fine really and I’m thankful for that.
Yet I am struggling inside. I feel like my insides are constantly twisting and my brain keeps thinking thoughts that shouldn’t be thought.
It’s my illness that’s acting like an asshole but sometimes I wonder if it’s me. Am I the problem? Am I what’s wrong?
My illness tells me so all the time.
Worthless. Weak. Disappointment. Hopeless. Helpless.
I wish they would shut up for just one day.
It’s back to medication increases, struggling to calm my skin for meditation, lots of self care, oh my! I will rip my arm off if that will make me better —
I’ll never be “normal” and I f**king hate that.
But my life is good and I love that.
It always waits for me.
***My ten things of thankful are within my post *rule breaker alert*
PS. Remember when Champ had his “ace hole” tumour? Well I wrote about it and Sheknows published it on their site!!
*shameless plug alert*