Anxious as a Mutha

After a trying day of "asynchronous learning" (which, is parent code for nightmare fodder) I am on the couch attempting to process my thoughts and unwind. I've allowed myself a bowl of Goldfish crackers and a glass of Chardonnay from the box in the fridge that should say something along the lines of "open in case of emergency." The wine is doing little to soothe my mind. The Goldfish are swimming around my psyche and filling me with self-loathing more than actual carbohydrates. You see, I have a love-hate relationship with food that is, in the words of Facebook, "complicated." I love food, it's just that I  hate it. Like many women, I have ridden the calorie roller coaster since puberty. I've been strapped in, cycled through, and looking for the end of the ride but it never seems to come. The twists and turns are familiar at this point, and yet no less terrifying. I'm carrying this metaphor as far as I can, because it's just painful f

Anyone who deals with anxiety can tell you how awful it is. They can describe, in detail, the creeping sensation that eventually floods your consciousness and begins to manifest as physical symptoms like temperature changes, racing heart, increased respiration, perspiration, and more (ah, the wonders of the central nervous system.) What they can NOT always tell you, is why  they are feeling anxious. Sounds crazy, right? It is. It feels  crazy...and feeling crazy never helped calm anyone down. In fact, many people who experience anxiety, can't even name it as such. They know they feel unwell, but can't always identify the emotion/sensation plaguing them. I, for instance, have lived with anxiety my entire life...but it disguised itself and flew just beneath the radar of my rational thought. It took a lifetime, 34 years, for someone to tell me that I had anxiety, and that I could start to combat it. Of course, looking back with the kind of acuity only brought on by hindsight, I ca

Empath. It's one of those buzz words that gets tossed around the internet and used synonymously with sensitivity and, well, weakness. These erroneous associations are unfortunate, because empaths, true empaths are some of the strongest souls amongst us. They carry the burdens of others and work to lighten the loads of everyone but themselves. I am an empath...it's one of the few labels I can apply to myself without doubt. I have always been an empath, I just didn't have a name for it until recently. So, what does empath actually mean? An empath is someone who exhibits empathy on a scale larger than most other folks. They can not stop channeling empathy any more than they can stop breathing or eating. This of course begs the question, what is empathy? Empathy is, according to Merriam-Webster: "the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present with

  When I met my husband nearly 20 years ago, I was welcomed into a large family that I have come to love as my own. When I met Ray’s Aunt Bobbi as a 16-year-old, she was everything that I wanted to be. She was gorgeous, flawless skin and manicured everything. She was brilliant, an OR nurse known for her expertise. She was independent, if she wanted something she either bought it or built it. She was an artist, creating paintings, photos, stained glass and more. She was mysterious, a Vietnam Veteran who believed in ghosts and reincarnation. She was simply put, awe-inspiring and she spoke to me like I was on her level, even though I was an awkward and pimply teenager with very little self-confidence. Over the years, Aunt Bobbi and I bonded over many things. We discussed our family histories in great detail. Her parents were German Jews who fled the Nazi’s in World War II. Her father would return as a spy for the Allied Forces, brushing close to death many times. We would share wine coole

 

Which pandemic is worse? 

One small step for blog kind, one giant leap for me. Welcome, friends, to my long-awaited and sometimes requested (ha) blog. All kidding aside, this project is a BIG step for me. I have had so many people tell me that I should start a blog after reading my social media posts, but the reality is I've always been too anxious (see blog name) to put myself... out there.   I also have a hard time believing that anyone really cares about what I have to say (again, anxiety.) I've finally taken the plunge, not to "make a million dollars and get on the news" like my children assure me is in the very near future, but to face some of my own fears and prove that I can actually do it. I believe that everyone has a story and that those stories are worth hearing about.  My story is unique, and yet...relatable. I know that I am not the only mother who is anxious, and if I may quote Samuel L. Jackson, "as a mutha..." Well, you get the point. Our society runs on the backs of