For a while, I’ve lived with something I couldn’t explain.
There were days (on rare occasions) where I couldn’t make myself leave my
bedroom because of some unreasonable fear. A fear of something ridiculous, but
I knew that I couldn’t handle whatever task I was supposed to accomplish
outside of the house. Fears like: I didn’t want someone analyzing me while I was
dancing because I couldn’t handle the criticism, I couldn’t talk with friends
because I didn’t feel like putting on a smile and pretend that everything was
right in the world (though nothing was particularly wrong), I couldn’t handle
being surrounded by huge groups of family because I couldn’t handle being under
scrutiny for not being as happy or as together as I should be. I hate calling people
on the telephone unless they’re my parents or my siblings, and a very selective
few friends. Why? Because I hate feeling like a bother to people, because I
have a fear I’ll call someone, talk like a complete idiot and jumble up words –
ending up not accomplishing anything, and having people angry at me.
It isn’t logical, it doesn’t make sense to anyone, not even
myself.
Yesterday, I finally put two and two together and realized
that I have a form of social anxiety. It’s small, it’s not huge. My panic attacks are
minimal compared to people with serious conditions of depression and even more
real anxiety. But I have it nonetheless.
I realized that I had a panic attack before I got married
because everyone kept asking me questions. I had people questioning why I was
getting married and saying mean things. People kept asking me things I didn’t
know the answer to. I hated the first planning meeting because everyone was
staring at me, expecting me to just have everything in perfect order, but I only
knew minor details and in the back of my mind I was screaming about how I was
going to pay for everything. I hated planning my wedding. At one point when I
broke, and told my husband (my fiancé at the time) and my Aunt to just call off
the reception. My aunt told me I loved
my wedding stress and I needed to love my wedding. I did love my wedding
because the most important part didn’t cost money- just the time it took to be
sealed to the man of my dreams. Everything outside of the temple meant pleasing
people, entertaining people, greeting people, and listening to questions I wasn’t
ready to answer yet.
I freaked out at my sister (who was ten at the time) who
asked me about kids only a week after I got engaged, and frankly told her to
shut up. Because I feared that everyone would just assume that if I got
married, then I would just immediately become a mom- and that meant more
questions, more unwanted advice, and having to please more people. I’m a loud
talker about doing what you want, how you want, but part of me caves when I’m
bombarded with questions and I second guess myself often. I can’t explain why I
care so much, but I do.
When I lost a friend to suicide, I realized that I have
feelings that could be destructive if I didn’t let people know what was going
on. My family has a history of depression, and sometimes when I have my lows
(not very common, but they are lows) I find myself wishing to hide from the
world and just enjoy the darkness. So I made a personal commitment to being
honest when people ask how I’m doing. It might be considered too much
information, but I fear that if I don’t tell everyone, then who will catch me
when I’m slipping?
Onto my news!
Because all parasites look like worms right?
The sun is saying "Hi Daria!" because our favorite star really loves me. :)
I don't know why Richard looks so babyish. Oh well. He's still super cute. :)
*note: that is my baby's umbilical cord and NO! I DO NOT KNOW THE GENDER YET!*
I am going to be a mom!
Even though I was freaking out about it for a while, I’ve
come to terms with being a mom, and I’m okay with it, and all the close family
that I’ve told have been extremely supportive. But as the weeks of progressed,
so have the hellish pains and misfortunes of pregnancy. Morning sickness has
made it so I have to carry around a bucket. Pregnancy cramps feel worse than period
cramps. And I feel like walking death. It’s hard, and my sense of humor has
turned to biting sarcasm because of it. I didn’t want to share with the whole
world until after the first trimester (which is coming up soon, thankfully),
not because it’s the advice I was given, but because my anxiety has made me
worry about all the questions people are going to ask (that of course I don’t
know the answer to), the assumption that because I’m pregnant, that I’m going
to categorized as a mom who gave up her hopes and dreams because she had kids,
and that the only person interesting to talk to at family functions now, will
be my husband.
Some family came and visited the scout camp hubby and I work
at. They talked specifically to me
about pregnancy for a little bit, told me
that this will give me experience with boys, told me about how this child
growing inside me is going to be a boy, and then proceeded to talk to Richard
the rest of the time. It was as if my life is now on hold until I’m old and gray
and all my children are grown before I become something more than just “pregnant”,
something more than just a “mom”. Because I’m still Daria, no matter what my
titles are.
I’m not saying that being a mom is a terrible job. I’m not
saying that I’m not excited to be a mom. But I will say this now- I’m not going
to be a stay at home mom. For my sanity, pray that I’m not a stay at home mom. I
fully intend to continue my schooling until I get my degree, even if that means
taking my newborn around campus with me. I’m not putting my education on hold
because if I stop, I may never start up again. My child deserves a mom who has
a degree, and is licensed to teach. I fully intend to become a teacher because
it makes me happy. And you know what? Richard supports me fully in this hope
and dream, just like I support him in his goal to become a seminary teacher and
a novelist. We will figure things out and make things work- because that’s what
family does.
As I was saying before, my anxiety has kept me from sharing
this news with the world because I can’t handle criticism right now. This
pregnancy is miserable enough as it is, I already struggle with finding the
happy when I’m just trying to make it through the day and my job requires
dealing with stupid teenage boys all day. It’s pretty hard. So to you friends
who have a strong opinion that is anything less than supportive, I ask that you
keep it to yourself. Like the saying goes, if you can’t say anything nice, than
don’t say anything at all. You’re entitled to your opinion, but this is my
body, my family and my child. If you don’t approve, and you’d rather nitpick
and judge- then please remove me as a friend. I cannot emotionally or logically
handle your cruel comments right now.
Because this is how I'm always feeling:
Stomach Craving saying: "Get me some chips and pickles, oh and... juice..."
vs Morning Sickness saying: "I didn't order ANY of this! Send it back at once! I have a refined pallet!"
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