I've spent a lot of time recently talking about my anxiety. Comparing the insurmountable mountains of panic I had after Miles' birth to the relatively small bumps of uncertainty I have now. I will probably always have anxieties - they are a part of who I am, for better or worse. I will always ponder the what-ifs, and my heart will always race as worst-case-scenarios parade through my brain. Meds mute the parade, somewhat, but it's still there, and probably always will be.
But that isn't because things are bad. In fact, I think a lot of my anxiety stems from the fact that life is so good. My children are healthy and beautiful. My husband is completely amazing. I am happy and healthy and life is good. For others, maybe that would be time to relax. For me, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Maybe my anxiety will get worse again, like it was two years ago.
Maybe one of the kids will get sick.
Maybe the car will break down.
Maybe . . .
A thousand scenarios begin to play out in my head. None of them are the happy peacefulness of this moment. I take a deep breath and focus on now.
Samantha grunting and cooing softly in her sleep, her warm little body curled on my chest. Miles cuddled next to me, his hair still damp from the bath. Patrick nearby, preparing things for bedtime. The windows are open, and a cool breeze plays across my bare feet. All is quiet, gentle, and calm. Tomorrow may not be, but right now, all is right with the world. And for right now, that's all that matters.