It's...

It's sort of hard to describe when you are filled with anxiety.

 

Because the anxiety stems from all the things you are uncertain about...

 

and uncertainty drives me a bit... anxious.

 

Lately... I can't seem to read anyone's mind... I cannot seem to intuit what other people are thinking, I cannot tell what keeps my husband glued to his phone at all hours of the day and why his Whatsapp chat is so intriguing since he and his friends just verbally abuse each other 24/7 and use British curse words in rapid succession and I cannot fathom how that is so interesting.

 

I cannot figure out Google Drive. I did figure it out and then I forgot and then I reminded myself and then I forgot again when I needed it and every time I forget one of these things there is someone there to remind you that you are not very bright.

 

"Did you save it to the Google Drive?"

 

And I just wish they could see the blank stare that I give as I stare back at my computer screen while desperately wanting to come back with something that's.... not very ladylike.

 

I cannot figure out why the world is trying to connect with me when I'd love to disconnect for a while (says the girl who blogs to her 4 faithful readers + a couple dozen anonymous ones... )... But no, I don't tweet.  And no, sorry, I don't remember my Instagram login and no I didn't get your Google+ invitation or your LinkedIn invitation either.  I don't want to play Bubble Safari or Words with Friends on Facebook and I yes, oh, right... yes, I did see that message on Whatsapp but I totally forgot to respond.

 

I am not really sure if I got that email... I'll check... and while I am checking I will scan the dozens of items of SPAM messages in my Hotmail and wonder which company lied to me when they said "we will never sell your information to anyone..." until we do...

 

Mother-effers.

 

And I am uncertain whether I remembered to pay the gas bill...  and just as I am trying to wrap my head around that very important wonderment someone will invite me to a Google Hangout.

 

WTF?

 

I don't want to "meet" you on a Webex or GoToMeeting and I most certainly don't want you to see the myriad of confused faces I would also make on a Google Hangout.

 

Please stop sending me invitations.

 

For a girl who values the art and significance of RSVP'ing you're really stressing me out.

 

And perhaps the most challenging part of today is wondering whether I am a good mom...

 

Because what good mom allows her 2 1/2 year old daughter to leave the country for 2 1/2 weeks?

 

Granted.  It's not Spring Break in Cancun.

 

But I am overcome by the guilt and anxiety of not seeing my daughter for what will be the longest stretch in all eternity for a parent.

 

In March, she will go to England.

 

She will be in a different time zone.

 

She will be eating bangers and mash and yorkshire pudding and I won't be there to cut it into tiny bits for her.

 

I won't be the first person she sees in the morning.

 

I won't comb her curly hair- which she will probably be fine with.

 

I won't read her stories before bed.

 

I won't hold her hand when crossing the road and I won't sigh heavily when she spills milk on the couch.

 

I will be fine... right?

 

But I have anxiety over the pending loneliness.

 

So I'll need some sleepovers, here, there, wherever, and a night of dancing and a few docu-dramas that don't have any cute toddlers in them that remind me I don't have mine.

 

I'll need a romance novel and perhaps a psychological thriller to balance the emotions.

 

I could use a pedicure that won't require me to hobble out of the salon in a rush with tissue still woven between my toes, hustling to pick up my best girl.  It's that rush that says "I know they're not quite dry yet, but I have somewhere to be.."  It's what I usually do... but won't do when she is away.

 

I might indulge in a face mask and a few extra blog sesh's.

 

I might be able to let go of some of this anxiety.

 

Maybe.