Here she is again—the anxious mama in me. Overwhelmed. Defeated. Tense. Weary.
I know my kids feel my angst and anxiety. They can see it in my face, my tired eyes, and in the tone of my voice. They see it by the way I move around. It’s in the air of our home.
“Stop it. Don’t do that.”
“Ugh, another spill? Come on.”
“Now what’s the matter?”
“Leave your brother alone.”
“Deep breaths, Kelley. You’ve got this,” I said to myself.
“Inhale. 1-2-3. Exhale. 1-2-3.”
For the last decade I’ve experienced everything from mild to moderate anxiety, to full-blown panic, but never when flying – until now.
That’s the tricky thing with anxiety – and any mental disorder for that matter – sometimes there’s a circumstance that triggers it, but not always.
What comes to mind when you think of the word ‘anxiety?’ For most of us,…
What if I take a chance and utterly fail? What if someone I love dies?…