This week has been heavy. Monday, I was excited for a nice family dinner with my dad and sisters. Shortly after I got to my sister’s house my son, Z, began vomiting.
The first time he vomited it was all over the floor in my sister’s living room. I took him outside for some fresh air and then he proceeded to vomit all over me. Vomit is my kryptonite. I was surprised that I remained calm. I consoled him while covered in puke.
I threw away my shirt, loaded both children and went home hoping to not get anyone else sick. Z threw up more after we got out of the truck. He also spit vomit on my lips. It was challenging to remain calm.
That night my anxiety peaked, and I began dry heaving myself. I was worried about my children, I was worried about myself getting sick. The ‘what if’ game started in my head. Before I knew it I was searching for Xanax. I hadn’t taken Xanax in almost 4 years but there I was just trying to find a little pill.
After reaching out to a couple people and being told no I started going through the safe. I finally found some pills and I stared at them. I felt some relief just having them but did I really need one?
I didn’t.