One third through and slightly blue

I’m halfway between 11 and 12 weeks; I have my 12 week ultrasound on Wednesday. The first trimester is almost behind me.

It’s been about a week since my anxiety peaked to a level I haven’t felt since this time last year. When I wake in the morning, my stomach is in knots, the strong hands of anxiety twisting up my insides. I feel like I can’t eat, but I force down food, concerned about not taking proper care of myself and the life that is already relying on me.

Relying on me. Even typing those words causes an unwelcome reaction right now; one that is as physical as it is mental. I feel somersaults in my belly, and notice the thumping of my heartbeat. The intruder that broke in through the back door of my brain is busy stealing the loot that is my rational, calm mind.

You can’t even take care of yourself, it whispers. How could you have possibly thought you could take care of a child?

These are the thoughts I encounter when I am not feeling 100% well. These are the words that play over and over on anxiety’s loud speaker.

What caused this recent invasion, I wonder.

Is it hormones? Have they hit a certain level, activating the chemicals in my brain that I never want to be activated?

Has the massive change I’ve brought forth in my life finally hit me? Am I panicking? Am I feeling the normal anxiety all moms-to-be feel, only exacerbated by my history of mental illness and predisposition to anxiety?

Is it that I haven’t had much neurofeedback treatment lately, and my brain is in need of a tune up?

Could I be more anxious about traveling for work later this month than I consciously realize? I often take an Ativan when I have to fly, but being pregnant, I’m unable to do so. Are all of my what if fears dancing on auto pilot in my subconscious, calling in the soldiers of the anxiety army?

Is it all of these things, swirled together in the blender of my brain, creating a perfect but bitter cocktail?

Whatever the reason(s) may be, I’m already reaching for my arsenal in an attempt to hold the line.

If you have ever felt the grip of anxiety or depression, you know the fear of the threat of its return. The worry over getting worse instead of better is often as bad as the anxiety itself; it’s anxiety on top of anxiety. A double layer cake that’s anything but sweet.

So, I’ve started more regular sessions of neurofeedback again – even taking home the spare machine my therapist rents out to her patients. I plan to try and hook myself up daily for the first week or so, after which I’ll hopefully start to feel that glorious, welcome shift.

That shift; when the tension starts to release, and the cloudy fog starts to lift.

It’s a wonderful thing.

The light is so much more beautiful when you’ve been in the dark.