From Bloggymommer

Anxious. Anxious. Anxious. Lonely. Angry. Anxious. Abandoned. Burdened. Anxious. Disappointed. Anxious. Stressed. In a hurry. Anxious. Unable to sleep. Anxious. Tired. Dragging. Anxious. Worthless. Anxious. Regretful. Anxious. Listless. Wistful. Anxious.

Today, the meds are working, and I am less anxious. A reprieve. It doesn’t happen often. But, when I’m less anxious, I’m left to deal with the other things rattling around in my head.

Anxious. Anxious. Anxious. Lonely. Angry. Anxious. Abandoned. Burdened. Anxious. Disappointed. Anxious. Stressed. In a hurry. Anxious. Unable to sleep. Anxious. Tired. Dragging. Anxious. Worthless. Anxious. Regretful. Anxious. Listless. Wistful. Anxious.

I should be celebrating. For the first time in twenty years, I have meds that help. Today I’m not anxious. Lonely. Angry. Abandoned. Burdened. Disappointed. Stressed. In a hurry. Unable to sleep. Tired. Dragging. Worthless. Regretful. Listless. Wistful. But not anxious.

I can sit still! Now that I can sit still: I can, I should… what should I do first?

I’m almost bored. The anxiety has waned, and now I have nothing to do, nothing to think about. Well, not nothing: Lonely. Angry. Abandoned. Burdened. Disappointed. Stressed. In a hurry. Unable to sleep. Tired. Dragging. Worthless. Regretful.

One foot in front of the other. One thing at a time. One. I can’t remember the last time there was a singular thought in my head. I can’t remember this sense of focus. The house is clean. The work is done. There’s nothing on the calendar until next week. What did I focus on, the last time that I had focus? I can’t contain this need to plan something, anything: a trip, a date, a movie premiere, a trip home.

Quiet. Birds chirping, and a bus passing on the street. There’s nothing good on T.V. I need something to do with my hands. I thought I got over this loneliness. I thought I worked through this anger. I feel raw and defenseless. A ten-year-old kid all over again.

I can’t remember the last time I lived a day without that pattern. Anxious. Anxious. Anxious. Keep Busy. Think of something to worry about. Anxious. Anxious. Anxious. It’s bizarre, but at least I knew what to do with my day. Is it strange to miss that?

It’s a beautiful day outside. The chores are done. The list is checked off. There’s nothing to finish up. I’m dressed. I can’t think of what to do or where to go. Now what?