In the blogging world, it’s easy to feel like you know someone without having ever met them. I was thinking about that the other day, how you, my readers, my friends, read my blog every week (you better!) yet haven’t really had the chance to ‘know me’ other than through my writing.
If you’ve followed my blog for a long time, you’ve probably watched our home change from one colour to another over the past few years and marvelled at the patience of Tim as he endures my need to transform spaces over and over again. You know, those transformations don’t happen because I’m a ‘creative genius’ – okay maybe I am, but that’s beside the point. They happen because I have an Anxiety Disorder.
My quirkiness, my off-the-cuff remarks, my ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time – that’s all me – not my anxiety disorder. However, it does cause Tim some anxiety.
Why am I sharing this with you? I don’t know. I guess maybe because I’m feeling so darned anxious lately (for no apparent reason) and I’ve found that sometimes through sharing our trials and tribulations we find connections and strength and sometimes just a sweet dollop of inner peace.
Then again, maybe you don’t want to know. Maybe you’re just in it for my stunning personality and vast knowledge of decorative hoo-hah. But then again, maybe you do want to know. Maybe the more you know about me, the more you’ll feel connected to me when I write and you’ll learn to recognize my funny quirks and mannerisms not just as a computer persona, but as the genuine article.
I have what is called a Generalized Anxiety Disorder with Obsessive Compulsive Tendencies. I don’t wash my hands 80 times a day or lock the same door 10 times (although I did go through a phase where I refused to lock any door). I’m also not overly afraid of heights, spiders or clowns. However, my quirks and anxieties manifest themselves in many other weird and wonderful ways (and yes, I’ve learned to embrace them as wonderful).
How did this happen, when did it all start? (This is where my mom says ‘oh shit, here she goes…’) Let’s just say that it’s a long story and leave it at that.
However…I am grateful for my family. I am grateful for each and every one one of them who have taught me about love, strength and support. I am equally as grateful to those who taught me about hate, anger and the emotions and actions revolving around them and resulting from them. I have learned so much and this has formed the strong, kind, caring, gentle and tolerant person that I am today. Enough said…
And in the end, no matter how crappy I feel, no matter how hard it is to breathe or how much I feel like I want to just go CRAZY (er) – I have 2 beautiful little girls who are watching me and learning from me. But it’s not just they that are learning. It’s me. I am learning from them every day how to control myself, how to breathe, how to sit back and figure out what really matters. It’s not the underwear stacked neatly in the drawers, it’s not the colour of my walls or the obsessive thoughts that keep me up at nite. It’s these 2 beautiful babies who just want to hang out with mommy, colour a picture, read a book, have a snuggle. And then…I can breathe.
God, I love my life. Thank you for reading…