I'm not sure from whence the panic comes. A tiny part of my brain screams, "It's because of Christmas!" and another part says, "YOU HAVE KIDS, DUMMY," and yet another part is telling me that it's all to do with a completely inane and harmless thing that happened today in which my dog ate something on the neighbor's porch which M2 thought was their dog's treat, so I replaced the treat with some of our treats and a note, and the neighbor came and told me that no, whatever it was wasn't their dog's and to not worry about it. And yet another part says the panic comes from homeschooling and having a house and getting it all done and faking this whole SuperMom thing and
WHAT IF SOMEONE FINDS OUT WHAT A FRAUD I REALLY AM?!?!?
Because that's how my brain works.
It's stupid. I'm aware of how completely silly all that sounds. I know that as a parent, as a human, we all (OK, so most people... there are a few rotten eggs out there) do the best that we can and muddle through, grateful for anyone who will acknowledge that we're decent human beings despite our massive shortcomings. I am no better or no worse than anyone else. The decisions I make will not be the decisions that anyone else makes. And 99% of the time, I understand and am okay with that... except when the panic sets in. I lose all sense of rationality when I have a panic attack. I feel like there's a vise gripping my heart (not in the arrhythmia sort of way, just the emotional sort of way) and that I should second-guess every. single. thing I've done that day. And probably any decisions that I'm thinking of making in the next 24 hours.
The worst part is that there is very little that I can do to make the panic subside. When it happens, it happens. I could get up and put on headphones and clean manically (which sometimes happens) until it goes away, but the cleaning itself doesn't actually purge the sensation. I could read, listen to Buddhist chants, exercise, or sit and play mindless computer games, and nothing would help. I can't get in the car and drive until I feel better, even if Oz *was* home to monitor the munchkins.
As it is, I'm probably going to finish up this post and grab some of the toy catalogs that have come lately, see what the kids have circled, and attempt to make up Santa's purchase list for the upcoming holiday. Then I'll e-mail my mom some of the other options, take a shower, and do some reading before bed. And if history is anything to go by, I'll lie in bed for hours, my mind churning, until I finally fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion.
If you can relate to this post, I feel for you. I really do. Just know that you're not alone in this, though, and that we can tough it out, one way or the other. Right? (Please tell me I'm right. I'm not sure I can handle being wrong right now.)
Thanks for listening :)