knowing the score.
save the daaaaay…
This past week, I’ve had so many moments where I excitedly felt, “We’ve turned a corner.” We’ve been in our new home for two months and it’s all clicking. Joy is coming easier. The days are being saved by the magic within our family that we knew was always there.
Sunday morning, we were getting ready to go boating with Evan’s family and Marcie put on a hand-me-down Superwoman bathing suit that absolutely transformed her in the best way. She was posing, she was jumping, she was running around the house singing a made-up song that was so good, it got stuck in Evan and my head. “Save the daaaaaay…” My heart soared as I sang along… “Save the daaaaay…”
But something happened on the boat when we got to Leeks Marina. As Evan’s family—mother, brother, sister-in-law, niece, and two nephews—came down the dock, I felt my chest tighten. My breath shorten. Anxiety. Fuck. I feel like I’m pretty cool with Anxiety and Depression—I know those two idiots are just trying to protect me and I’ve been honoring them and feeding them and taking care of them and we’ve all been getting along okay. But what really irks me is when Anxiety or Depression show up for NO APPARENT REASON. It frustrates me to no end, because I need to know what is causing these fuckers to show up, so that I can fix it. I’m the fixer.
I couldn’t figure it out. On our Sunday boat day, with the family, I quietly shut down. I felt so anxious and overwhelmed that I had to distance myself from the group. I read my book whilst the kids played and others explored.
Evan kept making eye-contact with me from across the way and tapping his head, to ask if I was okay. Instead of tapping my head back (saying I was okay) I kind of shrugged. I thought maybe I just needed to see the Tetons. Maybe I just needed to swim. Maybe I was just anxious to get the kids tubing. Maybe I was unknowingly anxious about the storm coming. Maybe I knew I might see a friend that I felt like I had asked too much of. I felt like I had done something wrong, but I couldn’t remember what.
When the storm rolled in, Evan’s brother’s family took Marcelline in their car to the restaurant we’d have dinner at. Evan and I button-upped the boat and cleaned it and then drove together the half-hour to dinner.
“I feel so anxious and I don’t know why.”
“You okay?”
“I used to shut down so much more and I’ve felt like I’ve been so much better at that since going on medication, but today was weird. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. What do you think is going on?”
“I just feel like I did something wrong, but I don’t know what it is. Like I haven’t trained enough for my marathon or I haven’t worked hard enough on my book or I’m really fucking up at work or I’m just being a horrible mom or a horrible wife and it’s all going to become apparent soon and then I’ll be like, ‘I knew I had fucked up somewhere.’”
“You are a great mom and a great partner and I just feel like we both have so much going on that when we’re not actively working on something, it’s easy to feel bad and unproductive.”
We held hands and I tried not to feel anxious. Two sandhill cranes flew by the window, along the same direction as the car.
At dinner—beautiful, outside, good ol’ burgers—I talked with my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law about my anxiety. I thought maybe I had extreme “Sunday Scaries” that I couldn’t really pin-point. My sister-in-law reminded me of the Anxiety character in Inside Out 2 that we had just watched together. How Anxiety tries to take over to protect you from dangers you don’t really see. My mother-in-law told me I could stop by any time for herbs or acupuncture treatments to help.
It felt like it was all going to be okay. It was going to be better. But the next day, yesterday morning, I woke up and almost immediately felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack. It felt hard to breathe. It felt like my chest was too tight—like there was something heavy sitting on me. I helped get Marcie off to school. I did my Tarot reading. I tried to breathe deep.
I went to work. I caught up with colleagues. I didn’t share my anxiety when asked how I was doing, because—well—I’m already afraid of being seen as dramatic and what was I gonna say? “I’m generally feeling really good about life, but for unknown reasons I’m about to have an anxiety attack like a goddamn drama queen.”
I went to my notebook to write a To-Do list for the day and as I wrote “September 9th” at the top, I paused. September 9th. I wondered if this day meant an anniversary I didn’t want to remember. I pulled up my phone, went to the photos app, hit “Years” and went to 2022. There it was. September 9, 2022.
The day Marcelline had a seizure at my mother-in-law’s house and I saw it happen. I heard her seizing, before I saw her. Her little body squeaking. Then I saw her absent eyes. Her body convulsing. Her vomiting on the chair. Me calling 911 via Siri. I’m crying writing it now. I cried thinking of it yesterday.
I think my body—always keeping the score—was trying to tell me something. It was trying to protect me. It was trying to protect my baby. It felt the coolness of September 9th coming, it saw my mother-in-law and my baby girl and it said, “We’ve been here before and it was horrible… Should we shut down and hunker down?” I remembered last year, but somehow—back at the scene of the crime—I forgot what September 9th meant. I was struck by HOW MUCH I felt the heaviness of that time.
The body keeps the score, but I do wish it would cut it out sometimes. The body keeps the score, and—okay show-off—I think it’s winning. The body keeps the score, but sometimes I forget we’re playing the game. I guess this is what happens when I ask for more connectiveness to my body and my soul.
But also, shout-out to Al-Anon, because something else I’ve learned is, “You can’t tame it until you name it.” Once I figured out WHY I was feeling anxious… WHY my body was trying to shut down by applying heavy pressure to my chest… I almost instantaneously felt better. I just wanted to cuddle my baby and know and remember and honor and also probably definitely get that therapist here in Jackson.
At my desk yesterday morning, I felt so connected to my daughter, to my life, to my soul and I thanked my body for fucking with me just enough for me to acknowledge the big dark moments in this world, so that the goodness shines even brighter. I quietly wiped away a couple small tears and then sang to myself, “Save the daaaaaaay…”
Quick Hits:
Jam of the Week: Sea Lemon – Crystals (feat. Benjamin Gibbard)
(my friend Aarin used to play with Sea Lemon and I vividly remember her telling me, “I haven’t believed in an artist this hard in a long time.”)
We Do.
(I love that whole post. I guess I need to start reading poetry again!)Look At These Perfect/Unhinged Candles.
(if someone got me a candle of my own head or Evan’s head or Marcelline’s head, I would be the happiest person in the world. also, I love this weird little sculpture.)
I Want More Inter-Generational Friendships.
(I want to be friends with your toddler, with your grandma, with your aunt. I will change diapers. I will sit in uncomfortableness. I will hold anyone’s hand who needs/wants it… I may need it.)The Noise She Makes!
(*Michael Scott with that key “hidden” in his mouth* chanting: “magic! magic! magic! magic!”)
xxo,
rachel.