Well this stinks.
Here I am at home in a quiet house with a week to myself to do whatever I choose. Tonight I’m having an anxiety attack. Let me be clear, I am not choosing to have an anxiety attack, rather one has barged into my home uninvited like a bad relative. Oh boy!
I hate this.
I’m excited for Sean. This is an amazing opportunity for him to learn more about cycling, practice his sport, make friends, be independent, and face his fears of being out in the world without someone interpreting it for him each step of the way. I’m so proud of him!
For most of us taking a trip is a routine experience and while it might have its moments of anxiety or stress, we go about our business knowing that we will come through it fine. The difference for Sean is traveling means encountering new and unknown situations which he can no longer predict and prepare for, every unknown causes panic and anxiety. He has eight days of unknowns, new people, strange places, and crowded airports. This is a big deal.
This week started early Sunday morning when I took Sean to the airport. He did much better than the last time he flew out for a camp and insisted (until I pushed him through the gate to the screening area) that he was not going. He was apprehensive and nervous, but much better.
I walked out of the airport ready to break into that emotional ugly cry and wiped the tears from my eyes. This is my week off! I need to celebrate, have fun, relax! But once again sending him off breaks my heart. I have no qualms about being on my own, I’ve done that more than half of our married lives. I have found that after leaving him at so many heart-wrenching times when he was deploying or he was sick has altered these experiences for me and seeing him leave brings that awful feeling back to the surface.
Now the past few days I have felt better about it, but when he calls home and is too tired to talk, I hang up a little more deflated. Tonight is no exception. When I saw his missed call on my phone, my heart skipped a beat, no doubt due to the numerous times I missed his calls while he was in Iraq or on med hold and I had no way to call him back. He called home and I missed it. Of course tonight was different as I could call him back. We spoke for a few minutes and he was gone to bed.
So here I sit in the dark during “my” week, free of the responsibilites of taking care of Sean and able to focus entirely of myself and I’m FREAKING out! This is not worry, the nagging voice that runs about in my head saying, “I need to. . .” “I hope that. . . ” “Dear God. . .” No, this is anxiety, that panic feeling that sets my heart racing and my mind spinning without any rational thought. That feeling like I’m going to come out of my skin.
I’m going to bed, and not complaining that his snoring and kicking will not be happening here. There is an upside.
~God loves me even when I don’t forward those chain letters.