The big things are too big, with too many factors that I can’t control.
The little things are too numerous, with things being added to the pile by the minute.
I breathe, intent on filling my entire chest with air, in the hopes that the rush of oxygen will clear away the fog in my brain, the ringing in my ears.
I cringe, as a thought of what I should be doing – what productive thing I am letting go undone – bullies its way to the forefront of my mind.
I wipe, tears of frustration as my body reacts with a rush of adrenaline that I have come to know as an anxiety attack.
I break it all down, redirecting my attention to something small. Something easy. Something that doesn’t require more than my body.
Here, chew this carrot. Wipe this counter top. Fold this laundry.
Focus on the things that don’t require one iota of individuality. Of thought. Of Self.
My Self is in The Overwhelm again. The Overwhelm breeds my anxiety. Toughens it. Hones it. Gives it too many sharp edges so that grasping it in an effort for some semblance of control creates more pain.
The Overwhelm that is the house we are trying to buy. The career I am trying to start. The daily chores that have to be done. The children who need a nurturing mother.
These things in The Overwhelm have taken my Self and smothered it.
I cannot handle this. I am not good enough for this. You will fail and fail and fail again.
I will fight this, this anxiety stemming from the daunting tasks and goals before me. One small, meaningless task at a time, I will show my Self that we CAN be all the things. We will get through this. We will manage. We will survive.
And then we will thrive.