Frankie Says Relax

I've always had a tough time letting things go. I can relax - but in the back of my mind, thoughts sit. Sometimes for days, weeks or even years.

When I became a mom, it intensified. The 'what ifs' became paralyzing and panic inducing worry. I'm a planner by nature so to have this bundle of energy bouncing around whom I wanted to shield from harm was a tough life lesson.

I used to have a boss that would recite the AA Prayer for Serenity. You know the one - "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change" and so on...

I have finally learned what it means.

It means that any mistakes I have made in past will always be there and I cannot change them. All I can do is learn from them and do my best not to repeat them.

It means that I am not perfect and never will be. So I should allow myself to just be.

It means that I will never have total control. I should just focus on what I can control and not obsess over what I can't.

It means that all things, good and bad, are possible. The important question to ask is if they are probable and gain a little perspective on those stressful situations.

I will likely battle anxiety all my life, but with the help of a great therapist, friends and family, I have taken a step back to evaluate how I want to live my life, grow my career and enjoy my family.

Just relax.

A Kindred Spirit

Since coming out about our miscarriage last summer, I have experienced a kinship from women, near and far, who have been through the same thing. Some have said I am brave for being so open, but I don't think of it as brave, I think of it as real.

I recently read this post on Yummy Mummy Club by Kat Inokai Pembleton (you can follow her on Twitter @bumpandhustle). I immediately re-tweeted and reached out to Kat to tell her how much I appreciated her post.

She has been through so much and I could identify with her feelings and resulting anxiety. I appreciate how much she has shared and believe she is the true definition of brave. She continues to try and doesn't give up hope. And if she can, I can.

Please take a moment to read and share. You never know who might need it.

Working from Home - A Solitary Existence

It's been about six months since I officially started my life as a work at home mom (or WAHM). It is not without its ups and downs.

I am a VERY social person. Those who have met me in real life will know that even that is an understatement. So imagine going from working within the buzz of a busy office to a quiet house. When I worked from home on occasion in the past, I was very productive. I would hunker down and plow through billable hours. I loved the focus it gave me and how much I could get done when I wasn't interrupted.

At first, it was bliss. Then I started to get cabin fever. As a person prone to anxiety, being alone with my thoughts was not a good thing. So I switched up my routine. I recognized the importance of having a break in the day, whether it be lunch with a friend/colleague, running errands or treating myself to a pedicure. I also changed my scenery, working from the local Starbucks or taking over a desk at my husband's office.

Skype has also turned into a lifeline into the outside world. In past I've only used it for chats with grandparents, but now it's an IM tool and easy to quickly chat with fellow consultants also working from home.

As for the buzz of a busy office? Having some white noise in the background, whether it be the talking heads debating NHL trades on TSN 1050 or iTunes blaring, it keeps the house from feeling too silent.

Just like at the office, the to do list is never ending and can cause distraction. Taking a trip to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee can turn into 30 minutes of emptying the dishwasher and tidying up. It can be convenient to throw a load of laundry in during the day, but I have to keep it from taking over my day.

So all in all, six months in, I'm enjoying this new set-up even though I've had to adjust my traditional working style. My business has officially launched with a few agencies coming on board to work with me, which gives me the confidence that I made the right decision. Just call me a WAHM.

Better Late Than Never

I have always been a punctual person. I hated being late for school. If I arrived with less than 10 minutes before the bell rang, I felt like I was running late all day. I like being early and settling into my day, appointment, or whatever the task at hand.

Then Lucas came along and suddenly, I was always late.

We could be moments from going out the door and a diaper explosion would occur, delaying us in our journey. Or a spit up. Or crying bloody murder until he got a bottle etc. Now it's sometimes a chase around the house trying to put on boots or jackets. Lucas can actively deploy delay tactics to keep us from arriving at our destination on time.

This causes me great anxiety.

I believe when you are late, you are basically telling the other person that your time is more important than theirs. I had a boss several years ago that would close the door and start the meeting on time. This is a practice I carried along in my professional life, as if I had started a meeting late, it was disrespectful to those who arrived on time. I've had colleagues say they often accepted my meeting requests because they knew I would start and end on time, respecting the other priorities they had in their day.

So imagine how I must feel knowing that this 3-foot-nothing toddler can now wreak havoc with my clock and the calendar? Now when we say we will be somewhere, it is often preceded with an "around" or followed by an "ish." We will be there around 4ish.

I've had to relinquish my stranglehold on the clock, recognizing that late is better than never.

Snuggles

Motherhood brings anxiety and worry. However, I'm pretty open about the anxiety I suffered before I became a mom.

I remember it as far back as my early 20s, but it likely existed before that. I would feel sick on the subway on the way to work, having panic attacks before I knew what they were. Sometimes panic attacks would last for days, taking my appetite along with it. I started dropping weight, not because I was starving myself, but because my stomach would turn and I couldn't finish what was on my plate.

It got to a breaking point where I needed to seek out professional help of a counsellor and a dietitian to get me back on track. And every once in a while, if I find myself in the middle of an anxious moment, I also have medication that can calm me down.

I haven't taken a pill in more than two years and I think it's due to the snuggles.

This weekend, I found myself anxious again - probably worse than I've felt in a long time. Tonight as I put Lucas to bed, tears began to fall and Lucas could sense something wasn't right with me. He looked up at me with his big blue eyes and snuggled in even tighter. Lucas usually reaches for his bed, but tonight he stayed in my arms, his snuggles acting as the best medication of all.

How's that for modern medicine?