This is Fine...

I have anxiety. The phrase “this is fine” has been a running joke for the women in my family because of the relate-able humor we all have when it comes to anxiety. When talking about uncomfortable situations, it tends to make us feel better when we say, “This is fine” after something that seems so regular to most but very uncomfortable to the rest of us.

Here’s a little humorous example, though it wasn’t humorous at the time. I agreed to help out at a store in downtown Portland. I’ve been bouncing from store to store and this one happened to be one I had previously been to. There is a parking lot in the back but when I arrived it was full. Just going downtown gives me anxiety having to navigate through traffic on unfamiliar roads so to have the lot full tipped me off, but this is fine. This is fine. I’ll just find the parking garage. But now there are one ways to navigate and now I’m super far from the store and in the middle of downtown where I can’t just stop and re-plug in my coordinates. But this is fine. Finally I find the freaking parking garage and park but now I’m not seeing where to go to get out. I’m the basement of a parking garage super flustered and I ended up confessing to another women how I’m completely lost, flustered, and now late for work. And the phrase I’m thinking while I’m stuck in a parking garage? This is fine. The entire day at work, I’m put in these scenarios where I’m needed to complete certain tasks that haven’t been taught to me yet and I’m uttering the phrase “This is fine” just to make it through the day. (The latter is more stressful than anything.)

It’s a little humorous I was lost in a parking garage, right? I’m sure a sane person would have been fine. But me? No. I have found I don’t enjoy exploring or navigating new places on my own. I prefer to have a second person with me to ease my mind about finding parking, finding the building, finding the entrance, etc. I went out on a "date" with my husband the other weekend, when it was actually more of a me-tag-along night out with a bunch of his co-workers. I did survive. But I had to find parking on my own, in dark, which I HATE. I ended up sitting in the car for several minutes before I was able to convince myself to get out and go find him. In a crowd of people, which I hate. Guess who walked right past the entrance to the bar? This girl. But you know what? This is fine. I eventually found him and he then tried to make me go to the bar to order something. ON MY OWN. Nope nope nope. I took his drink and called it good.

I tell you these stories because you know what I have to do now? Navigate an entirely new world. Appointments and new people. Lots of new people. And calling people. I'm so introverted it hurts. In the past 24 hours I have had to push my anxiety aside, repeating "This is fine" over and over.

We left the hospital yesterday afternoon, as soon as we were done with lunch. On our way home, HD and I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions the doctor sent over, but only one was ready. so we went home and took a nap. Come dinner time, we prepare his meal and correctly count how many carbs he'll be consuming and do the math to see how many units of insulin he needs. I go to shoot him up only to discover the nurse sent us home WITH THE WRONG NEEDLES. We're digging through our binder on how to use these ones because they weren't the ones we practiced with. I'm almost in tears as now scenarios are flashing through my mind of us having to back to the hospital to get more, but then I remember something about picking needles up at the pharmacy so now I'm panicking about it being closed early because it's Sunday. They were open. But now I'm worried they prescribed the wrong ones. So much going through my mind and I'm trying really hard to not just break down and start crying. They had the right ones, and the rest of the night went smoothly.

Now Robin is home and she's thinking he can't go to school until the school is ready for him, and now I'm worried about work. I was able to take him to school today though. I waited until he had lunch at home along with his insulin shot before taking him. He was really excited to tell his teacher and friends about his hospital stay though when he arrived at school, he was looked a little timid. We first met with the nurse to just reiterate that yes, he does have diabetes. Yes, the doctor is sending his orders over. He's got his snacks ready in his backpack and he knows what to do with them. (But I hope he remembers!) I labeled everything. In detail. He's got his blood sugar monitor. He won't let others prick him. He likes to do that himself.

This is fine. Everything is fine. He is going to be fine. It's literally three hours. Perry is at home if he needs something. Everything is fine. I showed him his snacks he was free to eat at school and wrote directions on a bag of two other snacks, should he feel like his blood sugar is low, even though it was pretty high when he arrived at school. Imagine my surprise when I call home at 3:30 to see how school went and I hear Perry say he ate ALL of his snacks. Apparently he was hungry. Gahh!! What?!? His levels were fine when he got home. Everything was fine.

I'm going to be fine guys. This is going to be fine.

My Anxiety Kicked In Again.

It's nearly been a month since I've been back to my blog. At the beginning of the year, I said I really wanted to get back to blogging regularly, and I still really do! Every time I think about sitting down to write for a few minutes about some significant happenings, I get overwhelmed with what to write about, and instead jump on to Shutterfly to work on my yearbook. I've been making one every year for the past several years, and while everyone enjoys looking through them, it really bogs me down in January and February. I finally hunkered down last week and put the final touches on it - I'm eagerly awaiting it's arrival next week!

In the meantime I've been keeping busy with home projects - mainly painting. My dad gave me a seven day notice of his and my mom's arrival. It was just enough time to complete the "paint the ceiling" project that started when we moved in. While I was at it, I painted in the kitchen ceiling too. It was white, but needed a lot of love from all the cooking that had been done over the years. The last painting project I finished up before their arrival was picking a paint color and painting the dining room/transition-into-the-kitchen wall.

Picking paint colors has been a huge stressor for me. I sent myself into a little downward spiral when it came to picking colors for the living room. It was terrible. This time around I tried really hard not to over think the color, though I did spend a good chunk of time thinking about what color to make it. All of my walls were a shade of grey - brown. I love color, but went neutral and love how everything has turned out so far, but I knew I want to add a bit of personality to the mix. Keeping with the rustic feel of our home that we are trying to achieve, I was going to go with a mossy green, but somehow found myself going with more of a teal. The color I chose was called "Grey Green Teal" which on the swatched looked more green. When they mixed the paint, it looked green, when I poured it into the painting pan, it was green. However, when I started painting, it was blue. And Perry wonders why I get so much anxiety over colors...

Fast forward to yesterday - we swung by Home Depot to pick out some paint for the basement, and a few other things. After asking for my hubby's opinion on the final colors and his response being "I don't care," I was sent into a bit of an anxiety attack. My heart started racing and I started feeling sick. His response was just the "stick that broke the camel's back" after having to re-think my stairwell project and wrangling the boys in the process.

I haven't felt this way since last fall with my neighbor fiasco. I can handle feeling sick and having sweaty palms, but I absolutely hate when my heart feels like it's racing. It's a very uncomfortable feeling. The most frustrating about it all is not having my husband understand. I can't just stop feeling the way I feel, and I can't just calm down. I over think things all the time - I can't help it!

I haven't slept through the night since before I moved. While at mom's house, I chalked it up to having a child sleeping in bed with me. After the big move, I figured it was because I was just too hot at night, which might be part of it, but when I keep the room really cold... I've started taking melatonin before bed, which has helped a little, but I still toss and turn every night. Is it my anxiety? I'm not sure. I just want to sleep! I've expressed to my hubby numerous times about how I feel lazy and don't accomplish much throughout the day because I'm just so tired. 

Right now I'm feeling a little overwhelmed with all the projects going on at home. I started taking down wallpaper in my stairwell so I could get that painted before our guests arrive this week, but that was put on the back burner when I saw my hubby peeling wallpaper in the basement so he could put up trim around the windows. I know he was trying to make it easier for me when it came time to paint the basement, but that ended up with me striping a good half of the basement of wallpaper. Just as I was cleaning up the mess, he started tearing down wallpaper in the bathroom for the same reason, to make it easier for me when it came time to paint it. Now I have too many open projects and I want to do them all at once. 

One of these days I'll get up a few pictures of all the updates we've done around here. But not today. I'm going to try to complete a few of these projects in hopes of feeling less overwhelmed...One thing at time.