Crazy mom or crazy world?

I have something in me that calls all the shots.  It tells me how to feel, how to act, how to be.

Anxiety.  Worry.  They work together so well in my mind, and they win.  Every time.

The most crippling feeling is the unimaginable worry I have in every single thing that involves my children.  Anxiety not only wins, it rules.

I know every mom has some extent of worry when it comes to her kids, but I feel completely and utterly consumed by it.  It affects everything I do.

My mind won’t rest when my kids are out of my care.  They could be with someone I trust more than myself, it doesn’t matter.  This affects needed alone time with my husband.

I find myself saying “be careful” or “you’ll get hurt” like a broken record.  This affects the memories I make with them each day.

They are not allowed out of the grocery cart at the store.  This close proximity causes them to fight more and affects my mood, but it’s just the way it’s going to be.

I feel just a little bit better when I feel them sleeping against me in our bed instead of in theirs down the hall.  This affects my sleep.

I have reservations letting my kids play alone in even our backyard without keeping a watchful eye on them.  This affects what I can get done in a day.

The list goes on and on.  Yes, I know my worry today does not control the results of tomorrow, but I keep on worrying.  Yes, I have faith in the good Lord above, but I keep on worrying.  Yes, I don’t want my kids to live in a bubble, because that only hinders them.

But, I keep on worrying.

I often wonder if I’m a crazy mom because of the constant precautions, sometimes unnecessary ones, I take.  Then, I remind myself of a sad realization and cut myself some slack.

Our world today is a scary place.

Evil people with a pocket full of bad intentions lurk around every corner, and social media and transportation have given them a boosted platform.  They attempt to take kids from parks, from grocery stores, from their own freaking beds, from right up under a parent’s nose.   

It’s my worst nightmare, and I have extreme anxiety because of it and the realization that it could happen at any given moment.  At times, I feel so defeated having a mind obsessed with the bad that could happen instead of the good that does happen.  However, it’s sad to admit that I am somewhat thankful for this restless mind. 

Our world today makes me consider my anxiety as a blessing in a roundabout way.

While it is tiresome, it keeps my guard up constantly.  If my heightened, out of control level of anxiety keeps my child, or someone else’s, safe from danger just one time, then I will gladly deal with my worrisome nature for a lifetime.

In my short 35 years, I have come too close too many times to this danger.  At five years old, if my mom wouldn’t have screamed and yelled after seeing that car pull up behind my bicycle down the street that carried the man who tried to grab me, I would have been taken.  Gone.

If I would have smelled the “perfume” that strange man offered me at a gas station in college, I would have passed out according to the warning I saw on the news months later of men using this method to kidnap women.  Passed out and taken.  Gone.

Another strange man asked me to fill up his tank and offered me a bigger gas can than the one I was using recently. I could have it if I would get it from his car.  This man, whose appearance and car could have fit the description of a man responsible for two attempted kidnappings in nearby neighborhoods, could have been trying to get me away from my car so his friend could get to my kids.  You just never know.  Side note:  ALWAYS lock your vehicle when filling up your tank.  I’m so glad this time was no exception to that for me. 

There is good left in this world, but I’m starting to worry that the bad is beginning to outweigh it.

While I believe that prayer, medicine, and other calming agents might lessen my anxiety, it will never be cured.  Not unless people change, which will set in motion for our world to change.

My rest stopped when I became a parent and my heart filled with a fierce love and sense of protection.  I don’t believe it will ever stop regardless of their age, either.  I’d rather have them than my rest, though.  There is no question.

So, am I a crazy mom, or are we living in a crazy world?

Personally, I don’t think I’m crazy.  I’m just a Momma Bear ferociously protecting my cubs in this sad, sickened world.

If you are in the boat of managing your anxiety, please comment below and let me know any thought, insight, or method that has helped you.  I’d love to hear them.  

Holla,

Ramsi


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