This weekend was a respite from the not-quite-enough-air issue I've been having. But here it is Sunday night and whaddaya know, I feel like there's a live squirrel running around inside my head. This tells me I was meant for a life of leisure.
I was mentioning my panic and anxiety to Jeff the other day and he said, why, you don't have anything to be stressed about. I don't know if he was joking, but I'm sure my life looks placid compared to his, which is full to the brim with lesson plans as well as the heavy lifting in making our finances work. But, I am a thirsty sponge that soaks up everyone's stress and stirs it into the pot of my own simmering anxiety. It takes very little, just Liz mentioning that her tooth hurts - my heart beats just a bit faster because we don't have insurance this month (long story), and she had oral surgery last month. Because we have no insurance we had to cancel Abby's therapy appointments, and she desperately needs help managing her own anxiety, which manifests as chronic headaches, stomach aches, fatigue, and muscle twitches. Jeff is spending his own money (because that's what teachers do) to supply his classroom, and after the bank account was overdrawn I suggested a credit card just for that purpose. And that reminds me of how much I hate the bitches who made his life so impossible at his last job. If I was ever tempted to embrace the dark arts, it would be in the hopes of blighting their lives.
When I first started talking about this in therapy, I began with "I don't really have that much to be stressed about" and ended up naming so many things: Abby's illness and my worries for her future, Liz's perfectionist streak and her lack of friends, Jeff's former job and the fierce protective anger I felt on his behalf, our desire to live somewhere else and my uncertainty about job prospects if we move. Or the fact that I feel this constant tug of war between my sense of myself and my work.
But now I need to go to sleep. And I hope I really sleep.