Rush has become the theme of my life in the past few years. Everything seems hurried; even hurry itself is not fast enough for this rushed life.
This morning I had one hour to myself at a coffee shop ACROSS the street from the kids’ zoology class. It felt foreign to relax; I was the person fidgeting and staring out the window as if I could see through walls and hear whispers traveling through air. My legs were ready to dart out the door if the teacher called me.
I’ve become the on-call mom. If emergency personnel is called, I have to be there to inform them of her medical condition and her running list of medications. I am her advocate: I have to be there. It’s not enough that the school has her medical history on file.
This is a learned behavior. The survival stage is behind us now that Ellis made it safely to her fifth birthday, which is a tremendous milestone for her health. However, my whole being feel trapped in the caregiver role.
My worst fear is facing a lifeless child: this fear drives the constant panic and adrenaline rush to be next to her always. It’s unrealistic but it’s a coping mechanism that gives me some control over this emotional situation.
Everyday I’m consciously trying to slow the rushed mind; it needs new rewiring/ training to learn how to chew life in morsels, not gulps. It’s a new season.