I spend a lot of time on this blog talking about how debilitating my anxiety is when interacting with life,and the world, because it moves at a breakneck pace I cannot process or keep up with.
I prattle about being so hugh strung and introverted yet having a hyper,uber talkative extrovert daughter. It is a lot to process hour after hour,day in and out. The child doesn’t slow down,doesn’t stop talking even to draw a breath.
So many days,like today, I find my reaction to her hyperactivity (or possibly she is just vivacious and I am listless) resulting in negative physical responses. Rapid heartbeat,racing thoughts,dizziness,breathlessness. It’s like she won’t stop to breath and that works for her but for me…I find myself gasping to take in enough air for both of us.
I don’t hold it against her,this is my damage,and was long before I had a child. What I do,however, is feel compelled to do from time to time is express to her that she needs to slow down and occasionally breath between sentences cos mom’s brain can’t process machine gun fire speech. It becomes gobbledygook in my head and the harder I try to force myself to keep up so I don’t ‘punish’ her for my own issues…the worse the physical symptoms get.
Fight or flight is my baseline for even small triggers.
Neverending motion,rapid speech,topic changes, this is all a trigger the size of a cannon. And I live in the same home with that trigger so…it’s easy to feel like I never truly go untriggered.
Today is not going well. She bounded out of bed like a bunny on crack and meth,yap yap yap,go go go. My heart rate hasn’t slowed down since and the constant babble and demands make me feel like my ears are under siege. It doesn’t make me dislike my child.
It makes me dislike myself. For not being ‘normal’, for being too ‘weak’ to process sensory overload,for my issues impacting her in any way.
I didn’t choose to be this way. I do everything I can to treat my disorders and adapt and endure and persevere.
The daily assault on my senses,though- I’m not one to live in denial and I am not prone to blaming others for my damage.
So that means every day…I end up filled with self loathing for something out of my control. Not a self confidence builder.
Now I need to gulp in as many breaths as possible and go help Spook with her fashion project. And hope she lets me have 2 minutes of peace to use the bathroom.
As I said,today is not going well. She had a tantrum first thing in,I took her crafts away til she’d calm down,and she physically attacked me with curled fists and snarling feral animal sounds.
The fact I don’t physically discipline my child,or ground her all the time,or scream at her attests to just how much effort I put into dealing with my triggers.
There are parents out there who’d take a belt to a child who physically attacks them again and again.
My self restraint in spite of my disorders has to speak volumes as to my dedication to my child and my determination to be a good parent even when my mind is constantly in fight or flight mode.
I try so hard. Maybe when Spook is older,she will look back and realize this. I just wish others old enough to comprehend this fact now could understand my efforts and give me an ounce of respect for trying so hard in the face of adversity.