Fueled by caffeine and neurosis, I have spent the last couple weeks battling the repercussions of quitting breastfeeding. Repercussions you say? Why, what repercussions other then the opportunity to drink mad amounts of coffee and suddenly finding yourself no longer able to produce cleavage could there possibly be??
Ha! That's what I was thinking as well, boy did I not google this process enough before embarking. Turns out I was riding a hormone high throughout my pregnancy and thereafter whilst breastfeeding and didn't even realize it since, let's be honest, it's me. Even my highs could still keep good company with the Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton crowd I'm fairly certain.
Never mind the couple days directly after weaning which I spent randomly bursting into tears and laying on the couch, that was to be expected (apparently) but I was not anticipating my emotions returning to their normal pre-pregnancy state.
I'd forgotten how bothersome my anxiety and OCD tendencies had been, and how frequent my (usually minor) panic attacks had hit. Instead of putting two and two together, I thought my mind had just finally learned to adjust to the world around me. Live and learn. Needless to say, it came as a shock.
But just as I had learned to cope before with the anxious episodes brought on from things such as thriller movies or days not going as planned, as well as the day to day nerves, I am doing so once again.
I picture my mind to be like one of those disco balls. A smorgasbord of colored lights, spinning and the reflections dancing off the walls, the floors, the people, shooting in every which direction. Those are my thoughts, one of the most difficult things for me is simply keeping track of the important ones so as to accomplish everything that needs to be done throughout the day. The tasks on my to-do lists vary from the daunting, clean and scrub out the fridge to the mundane, make a pot of coffee.
My anxiety and OCD is very much hereditary so it's something I've grown accustomed to. While some may find it shocking or weird, I grew up with a mother who would get overwhelmed about going to the grocery store or folding the laundry, and loading the dishwasher was an event in itself with the careful precision she applied to it.
We all have our own battles to fight. We all learn ways to do so. I love that I'm with a man who lovingly refers to my struggles as my "quirkiness." Though I'd enjoyed the brief hiatus from my
"quirkiness", I'm actually kind of glad to be back to "normal." My normal anyway. I like knowing even though it's a hassle to meticulously complete certain tasks, I can be damn sure my dishes are REALLY clean and the front door and all the windows in the house are DEFINITELY locked. Plus out of the disco type party my mind is having every second comes creativity and the motivation to write.
So here's to exhausting and inspiring eccentricities, I hope I'm always able to embrace and not "fix" my own!
See more at Meltdowns, Breakdowns, and Time-outs
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