Anxiety » The Chronicles of Munchkin Land

Silence and Friends

Adoption, in General, Anxiety 6 Responses »

Oct 132008

I’m not particularly awesome at making friends. I tend to be quiet when I first meet people and give strangers no real reason to want to ask me questions or get to know me better. Perhaps that is my defense mechanism. I don’t want people to ask me questions. I don’t want to have to explain myself. I’m tired of explaining myself.

All the same, over the past year, thanks to my youngest son, I have found myself a new and small group of friends. Three other women/mothers and I all have coffee one morning a week. We talk about our kids, our husbands, politics, stupid people, stupid people in politics, good deals in the area, bad deals in the area, house hunting, ranting, raving and the things that, you know, friends talk about. Shocking, I know.

One of these friends knew about the Munchkin from the very beginning because I met her at the hospital when my youngest son was born. Having access to my medical records in an official meeting type situation, she asked about my first. I explained. And that was that.

The second friend in the group recently found out when googling me after I let it slip that I was an internet celebrity. (Well, I am!) She hadn’t know, previosuly, that I was a freelance writer and she went home from that evening out to look up my Redbook article. I emailed the other friend and let her know that she’d probably get a phone call that evening. She did. But, again, all is well.

But no one has told the third friend. And I can’t find a way to work it into conversation. And I feel lousy for “keeping a secret” from someone that I am supposed to be friend with. And it is creating all kinds of ridiculous anxiety. So much so that I dread going for coffee each week now. Not because of them. They’re such great women! And their kids are adorable! And we really have a great time. But I’m always on edge. Is someone going to mention the Munchkin and the third friend is going to be confused and then feel left out for not knowing? I hate when others’ feelings are hurt because of something I did or did not do.

And so, I sit. Silent. Wondering if it would have been better to have stayed in my shell. Knowing that line of thought is wrong. But still unable to put a voice to who I really am.

Someday I won’t be plagued with all this guilt and anxiety and general self-worthlessness. Right?

Anxious Schmanxious

Adoption, in General, Anxiety 5 Responses »

Jul 122008

My anxiety is back up. While walking with my youngest in the Mei Tai last week, I was panicked. I had a panic attack while walking, which is one of my calming exercises. This only caused me to be anxious about my anxiety. And it was just a mess. I was never so happy to get home.

The anxiety was trivial. I was deathly afraid that someone mowing their lawn was going to kick up a rock and bonk me in the head. Or, even worse, my son. Or, worse yet, the both of us with two separate rocks. In my rush to leave the house that day, I didn’t even grab my cell phone. As I was dwelling on the fact that I wouldn’t be able to call for help if I was laying in the street, bleeding from a rock wound to the head, I started to panic that I didn’t have my cell phone. What if someone kidnapped us? Worse yet, my Husband had left the house with our older son, so no one was even expecting us back at the house in about an hour and so my absence (from the impending kidnapping, of course) would go unnoticed for HOURS! This went on and on. It was a disastrous line of thought, only stopped by walking through the front door of my home.

I’m now panicking about camping next week and for the ten days following. Will my youngest sleep? Will my older son listen? Will my cell phone work from the upstairs window of our cottage if I need to get in contact with my Husband? What if something happens to my Husband while I’m unreachable? (He was recently injured on a fire and so that’s where that anxiety is coming from… at least that has a logical explanation.) Will I pack enough stuff? Will the public washing machines ruin my diapers? (I’d switch to disposables for the ten days but my son’s skin is so sensitive and disposables are so not absorbent enough.) And then, of course, my BABY brother’s wedding is the very next weekend and I have anxiety about that… and not just the wedding (like how I’m going to nurse my eight month old, discretely, while wearing a strapless gown… great.)… but whether these two have enough money to eat.

And so on.

And then there are adoption issues out the wazoo that I can’t even begin to write about.

I just want to turn my mind off for the evening. But even books that have nothing to do with adoption mention it casually, cavalierly. I can’t escape. For a moment. I’m about to stop reading. Stop talking to people. Stop leaving my house. And stop all together! Too much going on!

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