Fear and a bit of loathing

I fly to the US on Friday.

There’s a dead rat in the walls of my house. So my youngest is off to the country with my housemate, and my oldest is with my ex. I didn’t realise my oldest would be staying with my ex for this long, so I haven’t said a proper goodbye. To either children.

The thing about anxiety is that it’s not always logic or fact based. Yes, I know flying is safer than driving. Yes, I know the odds of my having a safe trip are statistically higher than the odds of anything happening to me between now and when I return.

I also know that I haven’t said goodbye to either boy. That if anything happens to me, my ex will either sell them to my mother for a decent payoff (best case scenario) or ruin their lives  (worst case).  When you’re a single parent with no viable alternatives, everything rides on you. You have to tell yourself to be calm because stress is bad for you, and the irony of dying from a heart attack as you stress about your health is just too much.

I’m so scared. So scared. I miss my boys and I dont know when I’ll see my oldest again. I don’t feel like I have anyone to talk to who won’t think I’ve gone totally mad. Even as I type this from Special K’s bed. I hate my anxiety. I feel stupid. But I’m going to be terrified until I return, safely.

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