I am female, a mom and wife, and over 40. I worry about things. It is what I do.
I worry about what if and why or why not and when and how. I worry constantly, but never more than during the last part of my cycle.
During the last part of my cycle I become irrational with worry, and I get anxiety that keeps me awake.I worry all night and stay up to watch tv that makes me worry more. Last night on PBS they showed a doomsday thing on when the next volcano will erupt in Iceland and how the effects of that event will cripple us all with disease from toxic clouds of ash. Then I watched a thing on TVO where they followed around some Red Cross aid workers who went to Haiti after that devastating earthquake. The pictures were graphic and I stayed up to force myself to watch it. All of it. To emphasize that I have a GOOD and SAFE life, anxiety or not.
I am simply hormonal.
A friend of mine in Europe mentioned she is going through similar issues once a month, and that it helps her to anticipate what’s next when her body announces, in various ways, certain emotions. I tend to feel the same way, if I keep an eye on the calendar, because I can relate that these types of ebbs and flows in my hormonal fluctuations tend to come and go fairly regularly each month.
So instead of fighting the insomnia, I ride it out. So I’ll have a few days or a week or so with less sleep. I’m an expert on no sleep having had two kids who nursed all night, one till she was 18 months. And then didn’t sleep through the night till 4 and a half.
Sonja is 5 now.
I’m in the midst of one of those hormonal-worrying phases now. I worry about everything and I feel it creeping in, getting bigger, enveloping me.
I can’t stop it. So I have to ride it out.
The funny thing is, I tend to worry about things that, in the grand scheme of things, don’t really seem all that worrisome. His pending relocation to a city far away from our home here in this city should be all-consuming my worrying, but over the past week, it took a backseat. I don’t CARE right now about that.
Or getting Xmas out of the house….the house is tight and small and there isn’t enough room to store things, I have to purge continuously to keep my wits about me, yet….I was not in any big rush this year. I waited until I felt like dismantling the tree and stopped when I didn’t feel like it anymore (which is why I have half-filled bins of Xmas stuff lined up in my hallway). Oh, don’t worry, the Xmas tree is out and the living room is normal-ish again, I just have to find the will to store the bins someplace downstairs. It’s the actual ‘where in the basement should I store this stuff’ part that I haven’t tackled yet. (Also, hunting season just ended, his stuff is all out too, so it’s a double whammy of clean-up downstairs. BLAH.)
Instead I worry about hockey scores, about the new year’s activity schedule, about the mailman slipping on the ice at the side of the house where the mailbox is and about the amount of garbage and packaging I’m throwing out post-Xmas. I worry about what’s for lunch or dinner, will they eat it, and whether my 7 year old will ever talk to me about things that bother him. His silence about certain events that bug him worry me because I know something’s bugging him by seeing his various ticks develop further and more prominent. I also worry about Sonja’s teeth (she’s the only one who has cavities in this family) and about the fact that I haven’t coloured my hair in 6 weeks.
I worry. It’s exhausting, even though I understand its origin. My naturopath doctor gave me a bunch of supplements that, if I take them properly and in a timely fashion, should help with the balance, and I must get myself back into that routine of taking them again. Eat, take the supps, and drop sugar, wine and other stimulants (or at least reduce them). Then, maybe, I can become normal again.
In the meantime, I worry some more.