This morning I read an article written by a friend about anxiety. How difficult giving birth and motherhood can be when anxiety is hanging over you. She was very brave to expose herself that way and I'm proud of her.
I don't suffer from anxiety, many of my friends do. I don't suffer from depression, many of my friends do. I suffer from coping. I'm that woman that everyone looks at and thinks
"How is she so strong?"
"She is always laughing"
"She's so funny"
The whole world sees a coper. So, what happens when I'm not coping? How does that feel? I'll tell you. I want to run. I want to leave the house and keep going, no looking back, no thinking about the consequences, just leave it all behind.
All my life, I've ran. Bored with a job, run. Relationship a bit crappy, run. Fallen out with someone, run. I don't confront or even attempt to work it out.
So what happens when I cant run. What happens when being a special needs mum is the reason I want to run.
Today the urge to run is overwhelming. School holidays are so difficult, relentless, no control, no support. This morning, whilst I had the sheer audacity to take five minutes to get dressed (my only me time at the moment) Toby went into the downstairs bathroom and threw the handwash onto the floor, smashing it into a million pieces and making the bathroom look like a murder scene (believe me, I was tempted...). No reason, just because he can. That one small act triggered my desire to run. Such a little thing but yet another rude awakening that my son is not like other 8yr olds. I wont run, of course I wont run. But just because "running" isn't a medical diagnosis doesn't mean its not a battle, take it from someone who's life has never gone smoothly "running" is an actual thing.
Today I wish things were different.