Did I ever tell you about the storm in Flagstaff? It actually wasn’t a storm, it was just rain. It was a loud and steady kind of rain that, you know, had a job to do. We were in an Airbnb nestled in tall pine trees. I loved it, but to my son who was lying next to me nursing a fever, it was a storm. Something to fear and be on alert about. As a parent, you spend a lot of time wrangling, explaining, coaxing (and let’s be honest, silently screaming), that you relish the times in which you get to bring calm and peace to your babies. We are forever babies, if you didn’t know (yes, you the grown-ass adult are just someone’s baby…forever).
My little “forever baby” was riddled with anxiety over water from the sky. Want to know a secret? I too was riddled with anxiety. Remember the anxiety I talked about in my first blog? I couldn’t sleep because of it, so my son’s fever was a welcomed distraction.
I sat with my back resting against the bed’s headboard, my son draped across my lap as I gently rubbed his back; my husband lost in his dreams next to us. My son asked me, “Can you hear the rain?” I replied, “Yeah. I can hear it.” “I’m scared. It might be a tornado or something,” he said (I can see the scowled faces of my people back in the Midwest, over the fact that I’m raising a son who doesn’t know the difference between a lil’ rain and a tornado). “It’s not a tornado, baby,” I said in my best “mom voice.” He asked, “How do you know?” I said, “Because the conditions aren’t right.”
I don’t remember if he fell asleep after that or not. I can tell you that my anxiety shifted to two thoughts: 1). “I hope my son will be well enough to go to the Grand Canyon the next day and 2). Where in my life am I allowing storms to brew because of the conditions I feed it (If that moment were in a Hollywood movie, giant claps of thunder would have erupted)?”
My mind filled with lightening flashes of different scenarios like conversations with my husband, over committing myself, over scheduling myself, auditioning pressure, parenting pressure; all of which when mishandled create the perfect conditions for an internal storm.
Having anxiety, there is a need to want to control things so I feel like I have sway over the outcome. My attempt at containing unsavory conditions just leads to what a meteorologist would say is, low pressure, strong winds, and precipitation. I know it as low energy, strong self-doubt, and tears. What would open up for me if I could just be present to “rain” like I was in that bed holding my sweet boy; letting it do its job? Letting it wash away what needs to be discarded and what needs replenishing? I don’t really know, and that makes me curious enough to find out.
My son did feel better the next day and we did make it to the canyon, which I must say was fucking impressive, but the revelations I had while snuggling him…I found to be more grand.
**Everything I write comes from my personal insights and has all the drippings of my opinions, biases, and what-nots. Rather than come for me with facts or judgements to contradict my said opinions, biases and what-nots, I’d rather you find a different blog that makes you happy. If you find these posts therapeutic or helpful in anyway that means we connected and it’s all I can ask for, however I’m not a therapist nor a coach. I’m just a writer floating words out there hoping they find the person they are intended for.