Panic

I have been remarkably calm and cool about this whole moving thing. For me, anyway.

I've been all, "Well, it will work out. This was meant to be. Blabbity-blabbity-blah..."

And then yesterday, I freaking lost it.

After a great morning at the neighborhood park with a few fellow moms and babies, I had a rather routine phone conversation with the base housing office at our soon-to-be home in Georgia.

Nothing alarming was said. Nothing was even set in stone. It was all, "We're working on getting you a house that meets your needs. Blabbity-blabbity-blah..."

And then, after Ella went down for her nap, I started to feel it.

The clenching in my chest. The racing heart-beat. The sweats. The absolute and utter need to DO SOMETHING when there was nothing to do.

I left my husband a message, even though his phone wasn't anywhere near him or his work, asking him to please call the housing office back and that we'd chatted already and that this is what they had said.

And then, I started to pace. I did some laundry. I tried to ignore my mile-a-minute thoughts.

But I couldn't.

The clenching was getting worse. My heart was beating faster. And I was definitely sweating. A lot.

Gosh, I hate this. IhatethisIhatethisIhatethis, I thought.

I do not like being such a control freak. I do not like that "We'll wait and see" is so unsettling to me. I do not like that it sends me into a virtual tail-spin to not have what I know needs to happen set in stone already.

I am a list-maker. I like to check things off. And when whomever it is - my husband, my boss, the military, the housing office - doesn't hop on board with the list? Or doesn't understand why I made the list at all?

Well, sometimes, I freak.

I'll admit, I've gotten a lot better.

A few years ago, if I had gotten news like we received last week, I'd have been hysterical.

I might have cried. I'd definitely have yelled. I'd have paced the floor till I wore a hole in the carpet.

But with Ella, and with age, I've learned to let go more. I've learned that God does have a bigger plan. I've learned that it's not up to me to make sure everything works out right.

Which is why, as of late, I've been so calm about this move. I've been so calm about our next house and our next home-town and our next group of friends. I've prayed for peace, and so far, I've gotten it.

Things were going so well that I didn't even get rattled when we learned the hubs is set to deploy mere weeks after we get to our new place.

I took it all in stride.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, the panic attack came.

The innocuous phone call was the trigger.

But that wasn't the real issue at all.

I can blame the state of our house and my aforementioned statement of "We let things kind of go since we're moving in less than a month." I can also blame the fact that no one in my life quite gets what it's like to be so flipping tense about uncertain, wishy-washy, we'll-see situations.

I am surrounded by a laid-back, easy-going husband, family, and friends.

I am the rogue planner. My husband calls me "The Executer" for a reason.

But when you're standing in a room, absolutely desperate for someone to realize how crazy it makes you feel to "wait and see," and everyone else around is figuratively sipping coffee, chatting and lounging about?

Well, it's unnerving.

And so, yesterday, I think I lost it. The girl inside me who has to have a plan came out. She came raging out, actually.

I kept thinking up choice words to say the next time the housing office called. I debated whether or not I should delegate anything to my husband at all because I worried he "wouldn't get the right thing done." I even debated taking back several decisions we'd already made and starting this whole moving process from scratch.

Luckily, the anxiety paralyzed me. Mostly because, if it hadn't, I may have done something rash.

Instead, I spent the rest of my afternoon with a racing heart and a watchful eye toward the front door, waiting for my husband to walk in so I could unload, emotionally, all over him.

It was not a fun day.

Underneath it all, I felt like a huge failure. I felt like I'd lost. Like I'd let the situation get the better of me.

My mini-anxiety attack won, and I lost. And nothing had been resolved, so we were in the same place we were when I'd started off that morning at the park with Ella and friends.

Panic took control, when all I wanted was control in the first place.

How's that for irony?

***

I cannot tell you enough how much I don't like this about myself.

I envy the ability to "let go" many of my friends have. I wish I was one of those people who can pray about something and then walk away assured. I feel bad because it comes off like I lack confidence in God and humanity by freaking out like I do.

But it's not that at all.

It's a huge error in my personality. But it's an error that's driven me forward in the past; it's made me excel and work hard when others wouldn't. It's made me plow through situations and survive to tell the tale.

I am not someone who plays the ostrich or pretends the ship's not sinking. I deal; I cope.

But I deal and cope messily and emotively and, sometimes, loudly.

I have mini-anxiety attacks, and I lose sleep. I worry worry worry till I can't worry anymore.

It's not pretty, and I know it.

But it's my weakness, and it's a fight every stinking day to reign it in.

It's also a coping mechanism and an enemy of mine all at once. Which makes this symbiotic relationship good for me and bad for me all at the same time.

And, no matter how you slice it, that's a problem.

Which is why, honestly, I don't have a happy ending for this post. Nothing happened, and everything happened. And, well, I'm still anxious. I'm still working on reigning it in.

But I'm not sure I'll ever reign it in, totally.

In short, I don't know if this will ever go away.

***

Tell me, anyone else out there struggle with anxiety and control? Maybe it's not you, but your spouse/best friend/partner who does?

Anyone ever "won" the battle over their anxiety? I'd love to hear below, if you don't mind sharing.

Happy Wednesday, everyone.