Rule #1 - Expect and Allow

This rule applies to many things I am sure, but for me as I heard it, it applies to anxiety. Expect it to come back and allow it.
I seem to be having quite a reocurrance of these little episodes lately. The upside to this is that they are not nearly as debilitating (think deer in the headlights) as they once were. I also happen to have a wonderful partner who despite not knowing from first hand experience about this lovely gift, is as supportive and loving as he can be.
With anxiety or panic attacks, it is sometimes very clear as to why you are having one -- say getting ready for a big presentation at work, and other times they come out of left field and cold-cock you with no warning.
the thinking that I am trying so very counterintuitively to embrace as that these episodes are here to serve me in some way. As a reminder to check in with myself, ask questions and take care of myself. I say counterintuitively because when you are hit with anxiety you really just want the feeling TO GO AWAY. It's kind of like in Buddhism where you are encouraged to be with your feelings--to go through them, stay in the moment and be fluid. As I said when I started this blog, fluidity is what I want to work towards in my life. This is something I understand now to be not an end result like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but a conscious lifestyle choice. One that takes lots of practice and work. So - I'm working on it. Some days better than others, like anything else.

We got to move it, move it!

I like to sing the song from Madagascar in the morning to Sam. Anything to put a fun spin on the otherwise drill sergeant tone of the morning routine.

Sam is very into time right now. How long can I...watch tv, play a game and, you know, wander around the house taking entire minutes longer to do something than my mother can possibly stand before her head pops off?

When I say, okay, you can have 5 more minutes and then call time, he invariably argues that that could not possibly have been 5 minutes. It had to have been 2 minutes.

So this morning, he is talking about what toy or book he MUST have for after-care at school and I ramble off something about how NO - we must go now because I cannot wait another 5 minutes while he figures this out.

Sam: "Mom, you really gotta get that clock fixed."

He's 7 1/2. How screwed am I?