I have an anxiety attack at about four o'clock everyday. I could tell time by it. I am serious. I feel it and think...it must be four. I wonder why that is. Maybe my brain is messed and the part of the day where I used to get that tired spell before my second wind, I now get worse. I wonder if it is the time that my miscarriage ended. Maybe my body has noted that it wasn't a good hour. Maybe it is that nap time is over and I have to make dinner and everything is caving in. I don't know but no matter the circumstance it happens. So today, I took tea to the Christmas play rehearsal and sat on the couch and was late and got through it. Rather quickly I might add. I came home to have another one after dinner and before bath time anyways. Maybe it is when I sit down for a minute...
In the midst of pulling it together, the man of the family that I took some baking to, called. My son was in the bath, and my other son, overtired and teething, was crying but it was okay. I was glad that he called to let me know he got the box and card set inside the doorway. I was even more happy to hear how, or at least what, he and the girls were doing. I didn't need a thanks. I just wanted to know he was encouraged. To know they were making it. It is a fine line between encouragement and that negative attention that comes with death. Or at least that what it feels like to me. After ten or twenty "I am so sorries" that comes with a horrible "I pity you and don't know what to do about it" look, you can want to hide in a dark corner and never come out. My heart is full and I am glad that I reached past the fear and did something about that nudging in my soul. This is the stuff that makes a difference in my life. I have been waiting for kids to grow, and things to change in order to live life. I was on hold. It was with good intention...knowing that this time will pass and things will be different on the other side, but it wasn't good. It is not a good idea to just sit and wait for life to resume when reality is that you are living it right now. That hasn't given my life meaning. It has just made me think, "how did I get here, and when did I have three children." I want to teach and nurture my kids. That is my purpose but also I need to have purpose within myself. I need to realize new dreams and hope on those. I have my family and my good man. My first set of dreams. It didn't turn out like I planned but it happened just the same. Time to think on new things.What is next for me in life....I can't wait to find out.
For me, four o'clock means end of naps and at least another hour before Daddy gets home, during which I usually must get working on supper. While I work on supper, children are inevitably crying and wanting to be picked up, played with, read to, etc. This brings on a severe lack of patience and a feeling of "what on Earth am I doing?!" It may not translate the same as yours does, but I think it stems from the same things.
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