One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Sometimes, I feel like a crazy person.  My everyday anxieties are at an all time high.  I keep hovering over the kids.  I have a pit in my stomach if I leave them with anyone, worried something will happen while I’m gone.  I don’t have a degree in psychology, but I’m almost certifiable.
I haven’t let it hold us back from doing things and I think I’ve been managing it fairly well, so far.  Until yesterday, I hadn’t really thought about the underlying reasons behind this recent uptick of insanity.  There was a tornado warning where we live and my mother and mother-in-law were texting me about it while I was doing errands and the kids were home with a babysitter.  I immediately turned the car around and tried to get home as quickly as possible (despite the fact that the warning had already expired by 30 minutes). (Side note: tornadoes are one of my biggest fears.  Snakes, tornadoes, and tsunamis… I know, it’s weird, but I’ve had recurring nightmares about all three since I was a child.  Actually, the tornado one is kind of cool.  The tornado, itself, bursts into flames and then starts dancing like the broom in the Disney classic, Fantasia. Talk about a vivid imagination.)
It occurred to me that perhaps this increased anxiety actually has something to do with the whole BRCA ordeal.  I’m in a lull of post and pre-op purgatory right now.  Having postponed my next surgery, I’ve lost my momentum.  Before, I felt strong like I was in the moment and facing adversity.  I just had to buck up and deal.  Now that I don’t really have to worry about such a major medical issue and the planning for myself and my family in preparation for another surgery, I’m at a weird crossroads.  All of the pent up anxiety seems to have been released and is now spreading its destruction like the tsunamis of my nightmares.  It’s trickling down to everyday things like running after my little one if she’s in my bathroom, wondering if she’s going to trip on a bath mat and land on the marble riser that separates the shower from the floor.  It’s never happened before, but I can picture it in unfortunate detail. I think it’s somewhat normal for all moms to play these scenarios of what-if’s in their heads, but at what point is it not normal?
I should probably consult a mental health professional, but I’m being a little lazy and very cheap about it.  I justify my nonsense by thinking that I’ve been through something pretty rattling in the past year.  It’s not like this is just typical stuff, but is it?  It seems like everyone has something crazy going on in their lives.  A loved one who is sick, a child who has issues, or a mortgage they can’t pay.  Stress is in everyone’s life. Managing it and its manifestations is the challenge we all face.

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