I'm taking a break from website work to blog. I've been fighting anxiety attacks since I started working. I'm under a deadline, which usually isn't a big deal- in fact, I usually don't produce anything good until the last minute. The procrastination is a problem, though. It's been put into perpective better lately, as I realize that (here's the ridiculously fucking obvious part) the sooner I finish my layouts, the sooner we get paid. We are short (again) this month paying bills, and if I'd have finished this job sooner we could be billing for it now. Shane let loose on me how frustrated he is with my independability, and he was totally in the right, but it's so damn hard balancing everything. I have terrible time-management skills and with the baby it's an absolute necessity to fix this.
My anxiety is surely financial, and Shane's been freaking out about it too. The part I hate most is the way the attacks feel. I get anxiety about my anxiety, thinking that one smallish panic attack means I'm incompetent as a human being. It's so silly afterwards, but they feel so overwhelming and then I'm angry with myself that I can't control my physical reactions to stress. They feel like my life, which is a content and good one, is just a fragile facade over the real me which is a weak, sobbing mess of a fuck-up and a tiny crack will shatter my life. They pass and it's ok- I'm under stress like everyone else in the world and crying and feeling shaky for a few minutes isn't going to kill me.
I can't believe how hard it is to organize this life. It's a simple one, or it should be. People with much more stressful careers do just fine as working moms, but I can't find a few hours to play with a design program? I think I'm getting better, at least realizing that vegging out with the evil TV is robbing me of hours I need to be productive. It's just hard to reprogram myself after years of giving into the mild depression and lack of motivation, which snowballs into serious depression because I feed it with my idle hours. I have been improving, very slowly, for a few years, but being a mom kicks it into a real need. I can't bear the thought of Molly inhereting my weaknesses and am determined to make a good example of my life. The only way I'll raise a happy, healthy, strong woman is to BE one.
Right now the MollyBird is in her bouncy chair on my desk watching me type/falling asleep. Of course I'm worried as the chair says not to put it on an elevated surface, but she won't let me work unless she can see me. She's not mobile enough to tip it yet, and I'm right here, so I'm trying to ignore the slight worry. I tried her in her unbelievably complicated Infantino carrier, but she was pissed off. How can I be an attached parent without an attached baby? I guess I'll settle for arm's reach rather than in-arms.
The world will have to live without seeing how adorable Molly was playing on her gorgeous handmade quilt yesterday, as Blogger is being the devil today.