I live in fear every single day. Nonstop, constant, unrealistic, fucking annoying fear. The closest that I’ve come to detailing my fear and worry to is my therapist.
So, what does a day in the life of my overthinking brain look like?
Wake up at 5:00 a.m. to go workout.
When dressed and teeth brushed, exit my room into the house with flashlight constantly thinking someone is in the house.
Disarm the alarm to let dogs out. Look outside for a good 20 seconds before I am convinced no one is out there, let the dogs out, and lock the door.
Fix my coffee, get my protein shake, get my purse, phone, and taser ready.
Yes, a taser to walk/run to my truck.
Let the dogs in and immediately lock the door. Look around for a second to make sure no one is out in the yard.
Arm the alarm to leave the house.
Make sure porch lights are on before I leave. Close the door behind me and take in the scenery to make sure no one is outside waiting to kill me basically.
Quickly lock the door and walk/run to my truck.
Get in my truck, look in the backseat to make sure no one is there and immediately lock the doors.
Once I’m convinced that no one is around, I can now take off and drive to the gym.
I constantly look at my phone at the gym waiting for Scott to tell me that something is wrong with the kids when he goes to wake them up.
I just know that today is going to be the day that they are sick or even worse, dead.
Seriously. I envision this. If I haven’t heard anything by 7:00 a.m., I convince myself that everything is okay.
A little past 7:00 a.m., I am done at the gym and I drive to work. The drive there, my time at work, and my drive home are normally pretty okay.
Whenever I pick up the kids, my worry starts all over again. If I’m the first one home, I am convinced that I am going to walk into our house and someone has broken into it. And our dogs won’t be there because they left the door open. Or they will be dead because the intruder killed them.
I know. It’s awful, but I swear to you, I literally think these thoughts every single day.
When I walk in and realize that everything is okay, I breathe a sigh of relief and I’m fine again until the kids go to bed.
After the kids go to bed, it gets dark and my overactive brain starts processing everything that can go wrong in the dark.
Given all these thoughts, you would think I would have a hard time going to sleep, but I normally don’t. But, I wake up several times a night and have to convince myself that the house is settling or ice maker is really making ice, and it’s not someone trying to break into the house.
When 5:00 a.m. rolls around, repeat thoughts.
All of this really came to light after the incident I described in the last post, My Anxiety Struggle Continues. I literally obsessed over it that it was so close to my house. It’s just brought out the absolute worst fear within me.
There is not a day that goes by that I do not fear or worry.
But my fears and worries are 100% out of my control and not realistic. I mean, technically, they are realistic, but the chances of them happening are slim to none. I can logically accept this. I can logically talk to myself and tell myself that none of these incidents or worries are worth any of my time. But I still fear. And I still worry. Every second of every day.
In talking with the therapist I have realized that I’ve always been a worrier.
I remember the exact moment I became worried about break-ins. Someone down the street from us claimed their house was broken into. My parents told me and I’ve been scared ever since then. I have no idea how old I was. I would assume old enough to understand what a home invasion really was. Ever since that night, I sleep with the TV on.
I think there are a couple of valid reasons that I’m worried about the dogs. We had to put my first dog to sleep due to cancer. It was unexpected. She hadn’t been eating and my parents took her to the vet to find out she had cancer and they were putting her to sleep soon after that. I want to say within a day or two. I was in the eighth grade. I remember being so upset about it.
Then, Scott and I moved out and got a pair of dogs for ourselves. I’ve mentioned it a couple of times, but we lost one of them unexpectedly to bloat. It was horrific. I remember that night so clearly. The only two dogs I’ve ever had, I’ve lost unexpectedly. I guess that has now translated to the fear I have now of losing either of our dogs unexpectedly.
I don’t even think I need to put an explanation for my worry about the kids.
I mean, they are my kids. I made them. I would give my life for them. I would do any within my power to protect them, as any parent would.
My kids have really intensified my anxiety and worry.
And as I write that sentence, I think to myself, “What would they think of that sentence if they read it when they are old enough to understand it?” I pray, and I hope they know that did not cause my anxiety and depression and worry. I pray they know that I have these feelings because I love them so much and I would literally die if anything happened to them.
Since this attempted car-jacking incident, I’ve realized that my fear and worry and anxiety is much worse that I even imagined. I have tried to document my feelings in their entirety because I use this as a diary to report back to my therapist. It helps me remember exactly how I was feeling when I had shit days.
I don’t have another therapist appointment until September 11 so it’s going to be a long anxiety filled month…
