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Writer's pictureChelsea Ronan

A Day in My Life With Anxiety

Updated: Apr 4, 2022

If you're reading this post for the first time, this was the post that encouraged the title of my blog to be Ruminations. I originally posted this back in June of 2018 on a different blog host. I have found things to help me with my anxiety and thankfully, it is not near what it was in 2018.


I open my eyes and look at my phone.


“I have to drive A to school today,” I think to myself. I sigh and roll over. “It’s going to be fine…everything is going to be fine.”

That’s what I tell myself, but there is still a tiny knot in my stomach. I get out of bed to take a shower, my mind still wandering to the idea of driving. As I continue getting ready for the day, my thoughts wander to other things. Suddenly, I realize I am enjoying a sweet moment of release from anxiety’s grasp, but that thought tightens it once again.


“Oh yeah…I have to drive today.”


I quickly try to gain back my freedom, “Yeah….pfft…driving is no big deal. It’s easy. You’ve done it thousands of times. Stay positive. There’s no reason to freak out.” I start fidgeting with the skin around my nails as this monologue plays out in my head.


Later in the morning, my kids and I are trying to have an enjoyable day together, but I don’t feel well again. There’s something making me a little irritable at everything they are doing.


“What’s your problem? Nothing they are doing is really that annoying. They’re just kids,” I remind myself.


“No guys, I don’t want to play a game right now. How about we watch a show instead?” I say hoping that I can get a break from dealing with them. As the second hand ticks closer and closer to 11:30, the knot that was tiny earlier, grows into a larger problem. My thoughts begin to rush. The air seems thicker, harder to breathe.


“I need to make sure A has her homework ready, her snack, and her water. What special does she have today? Get it all ready. I don’t want to be late and need to rush. How many more minutes until we can eat lunch? There’s still 20 minutes left. Oh well, we can eat early today, then we won’t have to feel rushed. I wonder if there is a way that we could stay home today? It won’t be a big deal if A stays home today, right? No, no. You can’t think like that. Stay positive. You CAN drive her to school. It’s all going to be OK. Take a deep breath and just relax a little bit.” I breathe deep and try to relax. That helped a little bit.


I gather my kids to eat lunch. They are laughing and playing, enjoying themselves. I just can’t smile and enjoy the moment with them. Something isn’t right. I don’t feel well. I take a few bites of my lunch because my anxiety symptoms are worse after I eat – or so I believe.


“OK guys,” I say, “only 5 more minutes until we need to go to the bathroom and get shoes on so we can take A to school!” They spend the next 7 playing, laughing, and taking 3 more bites of food.


“I have everything ready. A is ready to go. I’m ready for the most part, but I don’t really feel comfortable with what I put on, my hair is driving me crazy, and I don’t have any make up on. Maybe I can put some make up on real quick so I don’t look too bad when I drop A off at school,” I think. I spend the next 5 minutes trying to relax and ignore the fact that I have to drive a car soon and I end up feeling a little rushed anyways because it is now later than I hoped we would leave.


Deep breath. “OK. This is it. I can do this. Driving is no big deal,” I chant. I actually don’t feel too bad at this moment unless my three year old doesn’t get into his car seat immediately and then I’m reminded that we need to get in the car and go. Now. Otherwise, we might be late and then I’m going to feel rushed and then I’m gonna have a panic attack.


“Whew. He’s in. Ok backing out of my garage. No biggie. We’re just taking a little drive through the neighborhood.” I hum a nervous dum dee dum dum. “Ok. We’re on a busier road now. No big deal. Remember, you can handle it if you feel anxiety. You can do this. People on this road drive way too fast. Now there’s someone tailing me. Ok. Ok. Breathe. They can go around you. You’re going the speed limit. It’s fine. Just ignore him. Oh boy, I better get in the other lane because this person is probably mad that I’m driving slower than them and it merges pretty soon.”


My kids are just having a grand old time in the back seat. I can hear bits and pieces of what they are saying. A asks, “Mom, can you turn it up? Mom? Mom!”


“Oh yeah, sweetie. Just a minute. Mommy needs to focus for a little bit,” I tell her.


“OK. 10 and 2. 10 and 2,” I think as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “Actually, I don’t think this helps. Just relax. Put your hands wherever they’re comfortable and relax your left leg. It’s so tense. No wonder you don’t feel good when you drive. Ok, OK we’re pulling up to a left turn. It’s red. Ok. OK. Focus on your breath. See that helps, right? Don’t think about having a panic attack. Remember, it’s not going to hurt you. You know what would hurt though? If you passed out while you were driving and crashed the car. BUT, we don’t need to go there. It’s OK. I’m just sitting here at this light. Everything is going to be OK. I hope it turns green soon so we can just get there already! Oh man, my eyes are having that weird issue again. I hope that doesn’t happen when the light turns green. Oh man, what if I pass out? What if I can’t drive the car? What if I just sit here and everyone has to go around me because I’m having a panic attack? Ok. OK. Get it together. Take a deep breath. See, that helps, right? Ok. It’s green. Ok. Go. I hope this feeling goes away. Just a little farther and we will be there.”


Feeling pretty shaken by the time we pull into the school parking lot, I tell my daughter that I am just going to drop her off at the curb today.


“OK!” she says, ready for anything the world throws at her. “I hope you feel better mom!”


“Thanks sweetheart! I hope you have a great day at school!” I say, but inside I’m thinking “you and me both”. At this point, my insides do not feel great. My body parts kind of feel as though they are pieces of luggage in the overhead compartment that have shifted during a flight. I need to find a bathroom.


“Hey B,” I say to my 3 year old, “Want to go visit Daddy for a minute?”


“Yeah!” he happily agrees.


“OK. I only have to make it across the street. This should be easy,” I think to myself.


We make it to visit with Dad for a minute who can tell that I am not doing so hot. Talking with him helps me to focus on something new and allows me to talk to an adult about what is really going on, but it’s impossible to explain. How can I sum up my whole day in a few short sentences? After trying to relax and distract myself from the miserable truth, we leave to start the entire process over again so that I can drive home.


As I drive home, I ignore the fact that I have needed to go to the grocery store for a week or more and that I have a list of errands that need to be done. I ignore these things just so that I can finally make it back to the safety of my home. As I pull into my garage, a tear wells up in my eye because I am relieved I don’t have to feel anymore. I can just become a pool of hot wax melting from the mini explosions I have just lived through.


The rest of the day is more relaxed, but little reflections of the day continue to pop up during dinner when I wonder if I’ll choke on the meal I’ve prepared for my family, or when I’ve walked to the store to buy the basic ingredients that I’ve been neglecting to buy and start to feel that I will pass out, or when I go out to a social event and keep looking around for an exit, an out, an end to the feelings I didn’t invite here. None of these things ever used to cause me any level of stress. When I can finally relax, which means watching television in my PJs, I can, for the first time, naturally take a deep, relaxing breath. I wonder to myself if I’ll feel this way tomorrow. I muster up what hope I can to try to convince myself that it’ll all be OK, that it’ll be like the way life used to be, that it’ll be normal. Normal sounds like paradise to me.

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