I have been having increased incidences of weakness in my legs, lack of coordination, fatigue, excessive tiredness, and shakiness the past few months. It seems to always accompany anxiety. So, it made perfect sense to me when my neurologist suggested I could very well be narcoleptic with cataplexy. Cataplexy is a condition that some narcoleptics have where their muscles go weak or floppy when they feel strong emotion such as laughter or stress or sadness. While journaling my symptoms, I found one common denominator: anxiety. I was a little bit relieved to finally be finding some answers to some scary symptoms, because I had feared that I had something that would continue to get worse and worse, such as Multiple Sclerosis (MS). If all I had to do was manage my anxiety and sleep patterns, I could do that! Right?
I went in for my sleep study last week and was hooked to wires on my scalp, on my face, on my chest, on my arms, on my legs.... all attached with gooey glue. To top it off, they put tubes in my nose and mouth and attached bands around my chest and stomach to monitor breathing. Now, I'm not sure how effective these so-called sleep studies are under these circumstances, because I am telling you I normally sleep like a rock and I could NOT sleep all night because I was so uncomfortable with all of those attachments! In fact, my doctor reported that in a 9-hour sleep period, I slept for 6 hours. No surprise there! Have these sleep doctors tried this method of sleeping?! I sort of already knew there would not be an accurate reading of my symptoms under these circumstances.
I received a call from the doctor's office yesterday, and I expected to hear that I was indeed narcoleptic and they had a magic pill that would help me stay awake and alert during the day and help with the cataplexy. But that's not how it went down. Instead, they told me that the test was inconclusive, that I most likely did NOT have narcolepsy and cataplexy based on the findings, and that since my symptoms are linked to anxiety, they recommend being placed on an anti-anxiety medication or anti-depressant while they continue to search for answers. Phooey. Now I don't know how all of you feel about "mental illness," but it seems that any physical illness seems more tangible and easy to treat than a mental illness, at least to me. Not only that, but a more acceptable one. If I tell me doctor husband that I have a physical disease that is causing my symptoms, he is going to nod and understand the physiology of that disease and be understanding of those times I just need to lie down and rest after a 16 hour day with the kids, because, you know, I have a categorized illness that says I need normal amounts of sleep! But, if I tell my doctor husband that I have anxiety, his reaction is going to be, "well, stop being anxious then!"
So, you can imagine how frustrating this "preliminary diagnosis" is for me. In fact, ironically, I kind of want to cry about it because I am not supposed to be fragile or tired or stressed or anxious or (in hushed tones)
depressed. I am supposed to be Wonder Woman. I am supposed to wake up early and stay up late, washing, scrubbing, fixing, baking, kissing, bandaging, wiping, dabbing, loving, hugging, tugging, plunging, did I already say scrubbing?, dressing, undressing, redressing, taxiing, running, making, ...and faking a whole lot of energy I just don't have! I am a mom of three. I am a wife to a very busy doctor who has spent the past 12 years of our marriage in school and residency, busily working towards his career, while I hold down the fort at home, sometimes feeling like a single parent during those times I'm raising kids alone, running a household alone, and feeling completely alienated from the man I married. Of course I have joined Facebook groups of other women in my same situation: Military Medical Wives, LDS Doctor Wives, Medical Wives That Homeschool, LDS Military Medical Wives That Homeschool! I know I'm not alone in the life I live. I meet other women online daily who have the same exhaustion and frustrations and fears and muted moments of celebration that the outside world does not appreciate or understand like the joy of finally paying off $120,000 in student loans or getting your #1 spot for your first PCS tour (albeit a spot you'd never ever choose to live if you were not in the military). I know I'm not the only mom in the world who is tired, and stressed out, and lonely, and overwhelmed. But, sometimes it kind of feels that way.
So, I'm going to be completely honest on this blog and tell you exactly how I feel, because I think it will help with a lot of my pent up anxiety.
1) I hate Killeen. I really do. This military town is trashy and there's not a single grocery store I can go to here that is not dirty and overcrowded. People in our neighborhood think they live in the Bronx. When we first moved in, a neighbor warned me, "you think you're moving into a nice, suburban town where kids can ride their bikes and play, but don't be fooled - you are living in the Bronx here. People are trashy and you keep your kids close."
There are flies everywhere, I kid you not! Every time I open the back door, ten more fly in, despite all our efforts to keep them out of the house using screen curtains and scents that supposedly deter flies. I even considered FILLING our yard with Venus Fly Traps because those dang flies make me so furious.
One thing I do love is our house and the view out my back windows. There is a big, open ranch that reminds me of an African Savannah behind us. I half expect to see a giraffe walk by on the horizon where the trees are. It's beautiful. I make a point to look out those windows as often as possible. It feels free, and open, and lovely. It is my escape from the boxed in feel you get living in a packed neighborhood surrounded by more packed neighborhoods. I get kind of claustrophobic looking at neighborhood after neighborhood here. It's funny because in Maryland, outside of D.C. there were a lot more people, but it was so green there with all of the tall trees and the vines and the shrubs that you just didn't notice all of the houses as much. Here, you can see rooftops for miles, and that, somehow, makes me feel more claustrophobic than living in an urban area! I'm looking forward to moving in a few years and dream of living in a cute little house by a lake, surrounded by nature and fresh air.
2) I wish I got a break every once in awhile. Everywhere I go, I have three kids with me. I love those three kids dearly, but after 9 years of having kids with you CONSTANTLY, you kind of feel like a bird in a cage - trapped and missing the days when you could fly freely, at your own pace. My husband and I don't fight often, but when we do, it is usually me telling him that he does not understand that I need some freedom and space, that he doesn't understand it because he's never done what I do. He gets to drive alone, listen to his own music, go to the gym on his own time (and not with three kids during that two hour window they offer child-minding), stop by the store and go shopping for clothes, run errands (without dragging kids in and out or buildings and getting them back into the car and in their car seats each and every time). He gets a last-minute invitation to go to dinner or a soccer game or a movie and he's gone. For me, I always always always have three kids with me. From the moment I wake up until I go to sleep, and very often all night long as well. I never drive alone. I never listen to the music I like. I go to the gym when the planets align perfectly and by some magical coincidence we don't have any scouts or sports that evening AND are done with dinner in time for me to drag three tired kids to the gym during that small window of time when child-minding is actually open, while I run in late to a spin class or piyo. I don't shop. I don't socialize or accept invitations for outings, because that would require an advanced notice to a babysitter I can't afford. Lately, hubsters has been gone an awful lot. He was gone for a week for boards review, then a few days to take those boards, then another week for a conference, and then we all took a lovely two week vacation together, and he left again for a week for a guys trip. And I'm happy he can do those things, but it puts a lot of strain on me in the evenings when he's not here. To add insult to injury, my best friend wants to do a girls' trip with me over Labor Day weekend and I can't do it because we spent all of our money on all of these recent trips, plane tickets, tuition for the kids' private school next year, boards for Jordan, etc. I know, I know, first world problems. The hoity-toity doctor's wife can't take a vacation because she spent all of her money on frivolous things like boards exams for hubby's career and tuition for the kids to go to a decent school. I sound spoiled rotten! But, it's not about the money. We are absolutely NOT rich. We make a lot of sacrifices for these things as we pay off student loans on a humble military salary (NOT a doctor's salary, mind you). But it IS about getting two ounces of time to myself. Having any amount of freedom. I feel trapped, caged in, stifled. Sometimes I hide from the kids in a closet so I can just breathe and be alone for five minutes. Of course, they always hunt me down and find me :)
3) I am really insecure about my husband's feelings for me and it drives me nuts! I know he must find me attractive to have married me, and I know there's more than just looks that makes you love a person, but I apologize constantly for looking frumpy or tired or unkept. By the time he gets home, my hair is a mess, my makeup is either smeared under my eyes or non-existent, and there are nose-wipe stains on my pant leg or shoulder. He somehow loves me all the same and tells me I'm a beautiful mess. But I have these recurring nightmares about him leaving me, or cheating on me, or accepting affection from another woman after brushing me off. Last night I dreamed that we were with a large group of friends somewhere and I was trying to cuddle up next to him as we all laughed and talked, and he kept brushing me off. I wasn't bothered and figured he needed space and I walked over to socialize with some other friends. I came back to find some other girl flirting with him and stroking his arm and offering him a bite of her food and he was just happy as a clam, and I was furious that he wouldn't let me do the same thing with him. It's kind of funny how dreams bring out your innermost fears. I was most angry that he didn't let me be the number one girl in his life, in front of his friends. Later in the dream, I caught my husband's best friend giving me a disgusted look and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror and I was a hideous old, wrinkly, frowny, very ugly haggard woman, like the kind that you only see in fairy tales because no body actually looks like that. That was me. And I thought, "no wonder Jordan doesn't love me!" I woke up pretty upset, and of course he's out of town so he couldn't let me cuddle up in the nook of his arm and tell me it was just a bad dream. But, seriously, why am I so insecure about my own husband loving me?! I was proposed to seven times in college! Seven! I used to be so thin and attractive and bubbly and fun and full of life. I had an endless list of dreams and desires and aspirations. I felt smart and my opinions were valued back then. I was an individual. I was that girl who had a date every night of the week. I was constantly being asked out by complete strangers that would walk into my work or run into me at school. I had a sweet Peruvian boy come into my work one day and shower me with adoration as he told me I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen and he wanted to ask me out but did not dare. Of course, I was engaged at the time so I had to break the news to him. Once I rear-ended a guy driving a Mustang, and he got out to inspect the damage and, upon seeing me, smiled and told me he'd gladly call it even if I'd go out on a date with him. Another time, I had my transmission replaced in my beater car and when the guy called me to tell me how much the repairs came to, he added, "but if you'll go out on a date with me, I can take care of those charges for you." I was that girl that would show up to a job interview and not only get the job, but also get set up on a date with the boss's brother. I was that girl that would get mysterious emails on my college email account from guys that never dared ask me out when we had class together and were suddenly working up the nerve to ask me out at the end of the semester. Once I walked out of a concert with my guy friends and we were all invited to a party - the GIRL inviting us to the party stopped mid-sentence to tell me how gorgeous I was. Why do I say this? Am I a conceited, self-absorbed girl caught up in getting attention from others and only caring about looks? On the contrary, I am a woman in her mid-30s with low self-esteem trying to remember who I used to be. I don't think all of those examples make me feel better because it reminds me that I used to be better about doing my hair and makeup. I think I used to possess a certain glow that drew people to me. I was alive and excited to be alive. I was happy and carefree and loved life and loved people. I smiled a lot. Like, all of the time. I was friendlier. I was probably a lot more naive, but I was also happy and trusting and loving and caring and had a lot to be excited about. Now, what happened to THAT girl? That girl who wanted to learn a dozen languages and travel the world and learn to play the guitar? That girl who could happily sit and eat a popscicle and talk about life and music and just enjoy the moment? That girl who could drive up to a lake and sit on the cliffs and watch the sunset, completely by herself, and know exactly who she was? I miss her.
Now, I'm a little battered and tired and have an extra ten pounds I can't seem to shake (Dang that limited child minding schedule at the gym! and Dang that sweet food that I eat when I'm stressed and tired!) but I'm still somewhat attractive, I think, if only I had the time to do something to my hair and put on some nice makeup rather than just ruffling up my messy bob and putting on a quick dab of eye shadow and mascara before searching for kids' shoes and running out the door. And I think I can be interesting and funny if only I weren't so tired all of the time. What scares me the most is that I feel like I'm losing myself in the midst of being a wife and mother. I want to be that bubbly, fun girl full of life with a million aspirations, and I feel like she's in there somewhere inside of me but is afraid to come out ... I don't know... I guess I just feel caged in, sad, stifled, no longer like me. I love being a wife and a mother, don't get me wrong. It is seriously the most wonderful thing I could ever dedicate my life to. But I kind of feel like something is out of balance. Like my new life is to keep my husband and kids happy and taken care of, and I just stay out of everyone's way without any regard to what makes me tick. But something has to change because I'm not happy. I'm not me. And don't my kids deserve a happy mom? Won't my husband like it better if he's married to a happy, bubbly, fun wife rather than one that just fulfills basic household duties (but, hey, I multitask like a champ and no body can manage this house full of kids better than me!)?
I've joked for years that I could use a valium, whenever I'm feeling especially overwhelmed and high-strung and stressed out. My grandma, the sweetest lady you could ever meet, used to take half a valium here and there for her "case of nerves" as she called it. It sounded so normal that way. When something is labeled as anxiety or depression, there is automatically a stigma associated with it. But, if a sweet, hard-working old lady pops a valium because she's becoming a little worrisome, it seems completely normal, right? And that's why I hate labels! I am not "depressed." I do not have "generalized anxiety disorder." But, what I do have is a very busy life that I am managing alone and under unique circumstances, and I could use a pill to help calm my case of nerves every now and then, I suppose. "Mother's Little Yellow Helper" is a Rolling Stone's song about Valium. And I laugh a little bit on the inside sometimes when I feel like my kids are going to drive me crazy and I think, 'I can see that... I can see how a homemaker and stay-at-home mom of three young kids might need a valium.' There's not shame in that. If I can be happier and healthier and enjoy my life where I sometimes feel like I'm tied down and imprisoned against my will, why not?! Ha ha! There's something so supremely messed up about that sentence.
Obviously I'm being a little ironic. But I am, in all seriousness, searching for options to make some changes. Otherwise my health is going to keep going downhill, especially as I take on this new homeschooling adventure next year with this mixed method private school the kids are doing (they go to school two days a week and I teach them from home three days a week). I've considered a few holistic options:
a) yoga and meditation at sun up and sun down
b) getting to bed earlier (despite my desire to have "me time" after the kids go to bed
c) waking up before everyone else to start me day alone. 100% ALONE. Awwww. Sounds nice.
d) eating healthier - when I tried out Whole30, I felt much more energetic. Couldn't hurt.
e) seeing a therapist, not to medicate, but to discuss pent-up feelings that I don't release otherwise
f) making time for myself, as in MAKING the other people in this household allow me to have time for myself :)
g) more connection with nature - get outside more and find a way for it to not be stressful with the kids
h) take deep breaths throughout the day. some people have a smoke break. i need a breathing break.
i) have sit-down meals (what?! moms get to sit during waking hours?!)
j) rediscover a hobby or find a new hobby and do it
k) socialize (scientists found that monkeys that socialized more had lower stress levels than the more solitary monkeys and theorized it was because oxytocin is released during the grooming routine of the monkeys... so, at the very least, maybe I could get a monkey to groom me???)
l) don't hold back so much - don't be afraid to laugh and be happy
m) journal about these things! hopes, dreams, aspirations, frustrations, fears, everything
n) take time to feel good about self each morning - put on makeup, do hair, smile
o) get a bike and trailer and go for rides with the kids!
p) decorate the house with some color, how I like it, and don't be afraid to spend money on those things! Jordan got his $10,000 movie room; you can get some rugs and pillows and throw blankets and art!
q) speaking of movies, watch something you like - don't be afraid to voice an opinion about preferences
r) the same goes for music
s) dance! you used to love to dance - find that love again and just do it
t) get certified to teach yoga - keep the studio dream at the top of the list and don't give it up
u) do things just because they make you happy - paint your nails, buy that yellow dress, get a snow cone!
v) lists can be therapeutic or your worst enemy - don't make overwhelming to-do lists
w) be happy
x) listen more; talk less
y) read good, happy books and poetry that makes you come alive
z) don't forget to actually do the things on this list.
