A Simple Solution to a Big Panic

I realized earlier today that I needed something important, and I wasn't sure where it was.  I received it in the mail on December 31, and remember looking at it at my dining room table, but I wasn't sure where I put it after that.  I looked in a few of the obvious places where I thought it might be, but to no avail.  I started cleaning off  the hutch in the dining room, stacking things on the table, sorting as I went, frantically hoping it was in there.  It wasn't and in a very short time, I started to panic.

I don't panic over every little thing, but sometimes when I do panic, I panic big.  I do that whole "turn molehills into mountains" thing where I start to think about every little thing that could potentially, maybe, possibly go wrong and my stream of consciousness goes out of control, stringing together scenarios and situations that may or may not be at all related.  I did this today.  For whatever reason, as I started to freak out over the whereabouts of a document, I also started to worry about money, a situation at work, the cleanliness of my house, and my overall parenting ability.  Yeah, see what I mean?  Big. 

A friend called, and I cried.  Not really sure why, but I did.  So he came to visit.  And I cried more.  I cried over lots of things.  He held my hand and I cried over stupid things that shouldn't worry me but do.  He assured and reassured me of lots of things, including the well-being of my parenting skills.  I don't like to feel like I'm being criticized and when I do, especially about something like parenting my kids, my insecurity skyrockets.  Insecurity had taken over my brain.  It was winning the battle at that moment, and had broken me down. 

Acceptance and patience sometimes go hand in hand, and I'm not particularly good at either.  Especially patience.  I can do acceptance, but I still struggle with patience.  And this, my friend tells me again and again, is what I need most right now.  I need to accept my feelings and be patient with myself to get through them.  This is difficult for me because I don't like crying.  I don't like questioning whether or not I'm doing a good job, at parenting or anything else.  I don't like feeling helpless.  I don't like feeling alone.  I don't like the feeling that someone else thinks they are "better" than me, in any sense of the word.  And I've felt all of these things lately.  So I cried.

I'm told that all these feelings are legitimate feelings, and it's ok to have them.  I was told this afternoon to look in the mirror and accept what I see.  Accept when I am happy.  Accept when I am not.  I was told that even when I cry and question everything I do, I should accept myself and like me - because I care enough to try to do a good job, and when I feel like I'm not doing a good job it bothers me enough to cry about it.  "Because there are plenty of people out there who just don't give a rat's a**."  I am not one of those people.  I do care.  I care what others think of me, which isn't always a good thing, if one obsesses too much about it.  But it's not always a bad thing, either. 

Once I had calmed down and my friend left, I looked in the mirror.  I looked terrible.  My face was blotchy, my eyes were red and sunken... I hate how I look when I cry.  But I smiled at myself anyway.  I smiled because I know that I am a caring person, and even when I cry I have a beautiful spirit.  Sounds trite, but if that's what I have to tell myself to make me feel better each time I cry, then I will.  I wiped away my tears, dried my face and smiled once again.  Better.  I started cleaning again, back on the hunt for my very important document.  After thinking for a moment, I walked into the dining room and noticed a pile of papers underneath the table.  I picked up the pile, and sure enough, there was the document I was looking for.  Literally under my nose the whole time. 

I felt quite relieved after I found it, called my friend to let him know, and finished the project of sorting papers from the hutch.  I turned up my music.  Goo Goo Dolls were the preferred band of the hour.  As I continued to clean, my spirit continued to lift.  I was hacking away at the insecurity that had taken me over only a few hours before.  And each time I walked past the living room mirror, I paused and smiled at the woman looking back at me.  She is beautiful.  Even after crying.