Anxiety

I've been having these anxiety attacks lately. I have trouble breathing and then I get more worked up. It happened when I was pregnant and it's back again. I know it's anxiety because lets face it, I'm neurotic.

And why, you ask, am I anxious?

Because I'm terribly afraid that my marriage is coming to an end. Maybe it's just me being me. In fact, probably it's just me being me because I know that Derick would deny it. I don't know why I feel this way, but I do know that it has a lot to do with our situation here. That's not all, though. Derick works a lot. Which he has to do, and I feel like shit for complaining about a husband that working when not so long ago I was complaining that he wasn't, but we spend very little time together. In the time that I don't spend with him, I try my hardest to do things around the house and to keep Lily from tumbling down the stairs. I feel like a single mom. And I'm jealous of Derick. I'm jealous that he gets to get out of the house and go to a job that he LOVES. I'm jealous that he get's out, away, and that he is amongst friends...not just co-workers. He has a lot in common with these people and not so much with me. At the end of the day, all I have to tell him about is how many poops Lily took, what she ate for lunch, and about the laundry that I didn't get done. I see his face when he goes into our room and the laundry is piled up, both clean and dirty, there are cups in the sink that need to be washed, and that there is a wet diaper that needs to be thrown out next to the bed. I see, in his face, that he'd rather turn around and go back to work. Get the hell out of here! Is what I think he's thinking. Instead, he turns to me and asks why I didn't think to put the dirty clothes in the hamper and I loose it. We fight, and fight, and fight about why I didn't think to put the dirty clothes in the hamper.

So I go upstairs, and I hear from my dad about how the toys aren't all picked up when he gets home from work. I hear abouthow we haven't paid the rent yet for the month. No body lives anywhere for free, he says. Yes Dad. You are right. No one lives anywhere for free. My mom comes home from work and promptly walks into the kitchen to complain about how messy it is after I cleaned it twice because the first time I knew wouldn't be good enough. She complains about how tired she is of things not being right. Don't you know what's expected of you? She asks. Yes Mom, I do know what's expected of me but I don't know what to do to make it good enough for you.

I look and look for places to go. Anywhere but here. I love my parents greatly. I appreciate them greatly. But it's just to much for me.

My husband would rather be at work than at home with his family.
My daughter would rather her father be home.
I'm not good enough for my mother.
My father thinks I'm a looser.

I'm so anxious that I can't breath sometimes but there is no where for me to go to catch my breath.