So, this weekend was fun and horrible.  Fun, because we sent the babies away and Danny turned old and I get to stay not-too-old all the time because I’m always  younger than him.  Plus, there was wine and good food and good friends and laughing and general all around soul lifting.

Horrible because we sent the babies away and with them went my imagination which sat and thought of all the things that can happen to babies when they aren’t in my arms.  Where. they. should. be.  ALWAYS.

Except…I know that’s not true.  And that’s why I do it.  Because rationally I know that locking my babies/myself/mylove/mysister/myeverythingsimportant in a room won’t make us safer, just really really pale.

So what gets me?  It’s that bitch, anxiety.  I actually imagine anxiety as a genderless ball of fur, like that stupid hungry monster in the Weight Watcher commercials only instead of forcing donuts on me he offers up images and feelings of impending doom.  Dooooooomm.

And wouldn’t it be nice if there were something that could reassure us that things will be alright?  There is – they are called statistics.  Statistics work like this – lots of numbers are put in pile and out of the way those numbers behave we can ascertain what the most likely future outcome will be.  Only…this doesn’t mean shit to someone suffering from anxiety.  NEXT!

The other thing that doesn’t work is telling me it will all be ok.  If you tell me it will all be ok I will tell you to shut your face, eat a knuckle sandwich and be prepared to find your ass cut.  Because, it’s really very irritating and pandering to tell someone who is worried that it will be ok.  At least to me.

The other thing to know is that it’s very possible to be anxious and happy at the same time.  This can confuse people.  How can I wind myself up over the possibility of ice four days from now and still sit and calmly do my job?  I’m complicated.  What else can I say?

I find simplifying things helps me.  The less I have to think about, the less I worry.  So, I eat the same thing for lunch everyday.  My mother calls this “autistic” but I call it “making things even”.  Speaking of even, I prefer even numbered things.  This is great because you can easily make single things even numbered but it is hard to make even numbered things odd.  So a single apple can become 4 slices.  A single piece of paper can become two.

Not in an obsessive nature, it just makes me feel less anxious if I know at least lunch will be predictable.  I find knowing as much as I can about a situation also helps.  So, if I’m going somewhere, I like to know weather, traffic patterns, etc.

The worst thing about anxiety is that, after you get through the thing you were dreading you’re all like, ‘wow, I’m so glad I did that!’  It’s just, how to get that feeling before the actual event.

How do you deal?  And did you find that your anxiety levels increased oh, I don’t know, about a thousand and a half levels after having children?