I am about to give you a glimpse into my internal psyche - be warned it's not pretty!
Yesterday afternoon, after Tyler made it safely home on his bike from his 4th day of school, I got in my minivan and headed to the day care to pick up my other two munchkins. We have been working on letting Tyler stay home alone for short bursts while we are within 5-10 minutes from home and so far it's been great. He does really well with our rules and doesn't seem to have any fears or problems being on his own. I gave him the choice to come with me for the ride, but he decided to stay home and start his homework. So I locked him in the house and off I went.
Half way to the day care, my phone rang and it was Tyler. Uh oh. 'Mom, I know it's not really the healthiest homework snack, but can I make some popcorn while the kids aren't here so they don't eat it all?' Hmmm. Not my first choice for him either, but I don't really see the harm in it so I agree and hang up.
Then, the worry starts. I know popcorn seems harmless enough, but it really gives me anxiety. It's an absolutely wonderful snack food and I love it, but the choking hazards on popcorn are really and truly unreal. Normally my worries about children eating popcorn are reserved for the littlest two, because they are so little, and generally I can avoid the worry by just being in the room with them when they are eating it. But now, my mind is racing and I start worrying about Tyler choking on popcorn before I get home and I am suddenly in a rush to get back.
This is the truth of the matter, I am just an obsessive worrier. And being an excessive worrier is a huge barrier to being a mom with any kind of healthy outlook. I know, I know - worrying is normal. It's practically an essential part of mothering, it's probably encoded within our DNA. If we didn't worry about our kids safety and health and well being, we wouldn't be normal and they wouldn't grow up to be healthy, happy adults. The problem for me is that if I don't keep it in check, worry can take over my whole life. And on top of the worry I have an overactive, and often tragically mis-propotional imagination. The combination of the two is sometimes overwhelming.
Part of this phenom for me is just the way I process life. It seems like if I imagine as many worst-case scenarios as possible and the what-if's and the how-will-I's that can go with them, I will be prepared for whatever happens. I've always done this. I was always my mom's 'what-if' kid. I asked her a million questions that started with 'What if . . .' for scenarios that were not very likely or probable, but in my mind I needed to know the answers just in case some kind of unforseeable situation arose - like a guy actually DID ask me out on a date before I turned eighteen (trust me, it was a close call) or if a friend really DID need me to ask my mom to buy condoms for them at thirteen. My poor mom, I know I've made her a little crazy over the years with this stuff. But, God Bless her, she has always answered the best she could, mostly with a great dose of patience, and even thrown a few surprises my way (like pulling a box of condoms out and showing them to me when I posed that particular query before school one morning) to keep me on my toes. The thing is - my mind just never stops, the motor is always running and keeping it from running away is a challenge. Silence within my mind is just a pipe dream. :)
I think, like most moms, I worry the most about losing my kids. I pray almost constantly for their safety, even when they are warm and cozy in their beds. I have very dear friends who have lost babies, young children and adult children and I don't know how they function every day. I can barely function for the thought of it. But God has granted them grace to keep living and moving and breathing. And God has granted me a small measure of grace too just by letting me voice every single one of my tiny little and huge monstrous worries to Him. But, on top of this most basic fear, is the even bigger nightmare for me - what if I lost them and it was because of something I could have done to prevent it? Could I live with myself? And I fear that I could not.
Because I worry about preventing everything, I worry more when my kids are away from me. Tyler's gone every other weekend and every Wednesday night with his dad and even though I trust Brian implicitly, I worry just because he isn't with ME. For some reason, even though my kids are in the car with me more than anyone else (to a considerable degree), I still worry about them being in an accident more when they are with others - even my dear hubby. There's some kind of self-delusional extra bubble of safety when they are with me (if only within the confines of my mind) that makes me think if something is going to happen - it won't be on my watch. Right. Like I have any control over that at all. I know that control is an illusion, but that doesn't stop me from trying to maintain control.
So the worry continues and intensifies and threatens to over take my life every single day that I am a mother. And I already know that it's never, ever going away. Hopefully, it will lessen and dissapate over the years as my children grow older (probably not until well after they survive being teenagers), but it's not leaving me until I leave this world. So for the time being I obsessively worry about everything from kidnapping and child predators to infectious diseases and cancers. From falling off of playground equipment to car accidents. From choking hazards to spider bites. From hot pans burning to emotional scarring. My biggest concerns usually have to do with head injuries and kids near water. And the truth is, all this worry is exhausting and draining. If I let it get the best of me, I don't get to enjoy my kids just being kids. If I let it take over, I won't ever let my kids leave their beds, much less the house, without being properly wrapped in 8 layers of some kind of non-plastic, breathable, cotton bubble wrap. They'll wear helmets on their heads to play outside and I won't let them eat anything but soft baby food for the rest of their lives. It's a constant battle to keep the worry in check. To keep it at a safe level that doesn't threaten to take over our lives. After all, for every 10 things I can think of to worry about, I know there are 100 more that I haven't even dared to think of yet. What kind of life would I have if I let myself go that far?
I realize that at this moment you are probably thinking - this chick needs some serious therapy. Never fear - I get it, both from paid professionals and dear, sweet, understanding friends and family. My husband, for example, is constantly saying to me 'Don't worry, it will be fine'. I, of course, don't think he worries enough and he thinks I worry too much. We generally balance each other out which gives the kids some kind of chance of growing up without being severly injured physically and also not suffering the consequences of having a completely neurotic mother. I know - jury is still out on that one.
And there are some good parts of this psychosis too. No, wait - bear with me. This major serious 'what-if' tendency and ability to over-imaginate can be a good thing. I can get a pretty detailed day dream going on thinking about stuff like winning the lottery, my kids curing cancer or becoming world leaders, retirement homes in Italy, and seeing my Heavenly Father someday. It's a great tool for killing time in waiting rooms, trying to fall asleep at night and most of all - replacing the worries. So when I'm driving home from the day care, worrying about a ten year old choking on popcorn, just because I am not there next to him, I don't hit the gas and speed the whole way, putting my life and the two other lives I'm responsible for in danger. I take a deep breath, let the worry wash over me, through me and out of me. And I think of some other what-if, like 'What if Tyler decided to surprise me while I was gone and cleaned the bathroom?' Now there's a good thought. 'What if . . .'
Have a great day - God Bless!
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