The anxiety and nausea of being us.

I’m sitting here watching my 10 month old play, filled with worry and anxiety for him. I wonder if I would be a better mother if I was not always worried. Worried about the next milestone, the bump in his mouth, the way he crawls, if I gave him baby food that had been sitting too long, just worried. It’s so hard to just be present sometimes.
For some reason I started thinking about myself as a little kid and all of the moments that ate away at my self esteem and that grew this mountain of anxiety inside me. Like when my teacher gave me a dirty look in second grade because I was staring at her. The sad part is, I was staring at her because I liked her. I thought she was a cool teacher. And when she gave me a dirty look, I didn’t just assume she wasn’t the cool teacher I thought she was, I took the position of there must be something wrong with me. And there’s lots of little moments like that. Why do we have imprints of the terrible moments of our lives while we barely remember the happy moments? And all of this makes me think, Desmond’s imprints are starting now. How can I make his memories about getting stronger and feeling happy? What a grand responsibility that is.
I have good memories, too. I remember reading Laura Ingalls Wilder books way past my bedtime, secretly in my room, and starting Big Woods again as soon as I finished the First Four Years. I remember riding to Florida in the back seat of the van and playing with our bears that had different outfits. I remember having Unbirthday Parties, and playing with some kind of computer game in our best friends’ living room. Climbing in the corn crib, picking peaches at the neighbors, wars with the other neighbors, telling our dog to take us home when we were lost in the woods. It took me a minute to find them, but good memories are there.
I don’t really know how to make sure Desmond has more good imprints than bad. I’m not even sure it’s possible. It’s so hard to stop worrying. My new saying is, “I will cross that bridge if I come to it.” I repeat it often in my head. The best I can do, I suppose, is try my hardest to be present, love him as best as I can, and build him up when others make him feel shitty. I’m sure I will screw him up in some ways, may they be mild and easy ways, and may we both learn from my mountain of anxiety.

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The anxiety and nausea of being us.

One thought on “The anxiety and nausea of being us.

  1. Megan says:

    Worrying is what Moms do. I think you have a good montra. “I will cross that bridge if I come to it”.
    I think that he will feel strong and secure , because you and Jason are great parents.

    Liked by 1 person

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