My six year old son is currently reading one of several Scholastic series books, There was an Old Lady who Swallowed some Books. For the most part I think that these books are completely ridiculous, but he seems to really enjoy them and they immediately bring something to my mind.The plot of these books are that there is an old lady always swallowing random objects but at the end something is created. We've read several of them, and I often find myself comparing the old lady to me.
I feel I am constantly forcing myself to deal with the anxiety filled knots in my throat and forcing myself to take a big GULP of all the random odds and ends that life throws at me. Instead of swallowing a "pen, pencil case, ruler, folder, chalk and a bag", I am swallowing things that fill me with anxiety.
I will keep these things deep down inside of me all week long, then explode into an emotional tantrum on Saturday or Sunday, when I have allowed myself the time and opportunity to simply... be.
Sitting in traffic (stressed, frustrated, worried someone will rear end me, worried that there will be an accident) .... at least 3 out of 5 days a week
Completing my work tasks... every day of my life
Getting home in time to cook dinner, get to the gym, and take care of Grayson....
Penciling in time with my fiance.
Figuring out when to grocery shop.
Thinking about bills I need to pay.
Thinking about money I do not have.
I will keep all of these worries deep down inside of my stomach, where they fester and become a monster I cannot control. Then, when I have a moment of weakness, I let them all out. I cry. I panic.
My inability to cope with every day life has got to me the most disheartening thing I think about. The fact that I cannot process or handle traffic, that if my schedule and time are not followed precisely that tears fill my eyes... how weak and pathetic that can feel.
I feel I am constantly forcing myself to deal with the anxiety filled knots in my throat and forcing myself to take a big GULP of all the random odds and ends that life throws at me. Instead of swallowing a "pen, pencil case, ruler, folder, chalk and a bag", I am swallowing things that fill me with anxiety.
I will keep these things deep down inside of me all week long, then explode into an emotional tantrum on Saturday or Sunday, when I have allowed myself the time and opportunity to simply... be.
Sitting in traffic (stressed, frustrated, worried someone will rear end me, worried that there will be an accident) .... at least 3 out of 5 days a week
Completing my work tasks... every day of my life
Getting home in time to cook dinner, get to the gym, and take care of Grayson....
Penciling in time with my fiance.
Figuring out when to grocery shop.
Thinking about bills I need to pay.
Thinking about money I do not have.
I will keep all of these worries deep down inside of my stomach, where they fester and become a monster I cannot control. Then, when I have a moment of weakness, I let them all out. I cry. I panic.
My inability to cope with every day life has got to me the most disheartening thing I think about. The fact that I cannot process or handle traffic, that if my schedule and time are not followed precisely that tears fill my eyes... how weak and pathetic that can feel.