My anxiety increases to astronomical proportions whenever I attempt new things. I worry and perseverate and often, I end up bailing on those new things because the anxiety of all that could go wrong freaks me out that I just can't do it.
Yesterday, I powered through my anxiety.
I was so proud of myself. I was invited to a play group, with moms I don't know well, at a park I've never been to, in a place I'm not comfortable driving by myself. And I did it anyway.
Since being invited last week, I've been stressing about it. I've worried about what to bring to make sure I have everything I need for both kids. I worried about where I was going to part. Whether to bring the stroller or just a carrier. I worried about getting lost on the way, or not being able to find the group when I got there. I worried about having B in the sun, or Buggy getting cranky. I worried about what to pack for lunch, so Buggy might actually eat, and about getting home in time for her nap before the exhausted-demon rears her ugly head. I laid in bed the night before filled with anxiety and imagining all the what-ifs of the situation and worried some more.
Okay, go ahead and laugh. But if you have anxiety, I know you feel me here. It may seem stupid, but this one playdate filled my head with dread for almost a week. I'm trying to work through some of my anxiety, and not let it prevent me from doing things I want to do.
So I went.
Driving was fine. Parking was fine. I found one of the moms immediately, and we had a great time. Playing occurred, and we lost track of all time. Suddenly it was 12:30, B was starving and Buggy was yelling that she needed to potty. Right. Now. So I repacked our stuff, said our goodbyes and pushed Buggy in the stroller and B in the carrier and hurried to find a bathroom. Of course, there were only port-a-potties. The first set (that we had used a little earlier) was nasty, across the park from where we were, and Buggy refused to go back to it. The second set we found was locked. We got to the third set just as another woman did. She looked at us, smirked, and rushed ahead of us to do her business while Buggy was crying that she needed to go. Classy. When she finally emerged, Buggy was squirming and the woman said "sorry, I used the rest of the toilet paper". Thanks lady.
There were no other places nearby, and Buggy refused to go to any more "yucky potties" or go outside somewhere, so we hauled our exhausted, hungry, grumpy selves back to the car and booked it out of there to look for a place with a bathroom.
There we were, driving in a place I'm not comfortable driving. I don't know any of the local places. Buggy is sobbing that she needs to pee. B is starting to flip because he's still hungry and I'm feeling like crying because I'm overwhelmed, tried, and hungry myself.
Finally I found a place to take Buggy to the bathroom, so we scurried in at .02 miles and hour, did our thing, and got back in the car. After that, we still had a 25 minute ride home which was spent with B fussing, Buggy yelling about hating her carseat, and me regretting the outing completely. We got home eventually. An hour past nap time.
I probably should have listened to my anxiety and stayed home yesterday morning.