Some Days
Us.
“Some days I wish I knew what it felt like to be you,” my husband says. He says it with a smile because I’ve gone and done an “Ericka” thing again like panic because I’ve run out of gas only to realize I haven’t actually turned on the car. He means it with love. He means it with purely innocent interest. And all I can think is “like fuck you would.”
No one wants to know what it feels like to be me.
I’ve done it all, mastered it with deft feet and fake smile. Those moments in crowded rooms with women older than me or even my age who know how to smile and laugh and ask each other for their phone numbers so they can set up play dates for little Johnny and Betty Sue, and my heart starts screeching as I shovel another mouthful of dip into my gaping hole because my social anxiety won’t just ruin my life, it will ruin my daughter’s, too. She’ll grow up one day, a blonde and beautiful thing, smart, too, but she won’t want anything to do with me because I can’t stop tripping on my tongue and smiling that stupid smile. I can’t truly connect even when I try for her sake. These are the things I think about at night.
But there are other things, too. My heart. It’s been hurting these past two weeks and not in a “it’s broken so let me fly off the ledge of this building” kind of way like I’m used to. I almost wish it was more like that because I can navigate that sort of crazy, but the current crazy is a little more psychosomatic. My brain is invading my body again and there’s a quake in my chest, an organic revolt springing through rib, suffocating the sternum.
If it ends like this she’ll be motherless. Perhaps, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
“How are you feeling?” my mother asks on Sunday as I help her set out the appetizers for our weekly family meal. “Great,” I say because what’s the alternative? “I can feel my cells breaking down, dying one by one”? “I’ll be lucky if I make it through November”? No, that’s not a thing to say. That’s not a thing real people say. Oh, how I want to be a real person.
Some days are beautiful and the air smells too good like there’s not enough of it. I’m greedy with it. There’s energy popping in me, through me, around me and I walk like the others do, the normals with their trendy purses and hair sprayed hair. But then in the mirror it’s just me like it’s always been. Bobby pin digging in against my scalp. Bra strap sneaking out beneath my shirt. The let down. It shoots through a vein, aims at my heart.
“Some days I wish I knew what it felt like to be you.”
Me, too.
_________________________________________________________________________
A big “thank you” to Le Clown for letting me release a few demons (hopefully they don’t bite too hard). And of course, for creating a supportive blogging community for those of us who seem to be defining crazy (hell, even redefining it) on a consistent basis.
About Ericka Clay
96 Comments on “Some Days”
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Ericka!!!!! My heart goes out to you…. you are definitely not alone in your feelings…. I sure am appreciating your fictional truths
Thanks Jenni! Things have been a lot better lately. Oddly enough, giving up the ten cups of coffee I drank on a daily basis has really helped me to mellow out and not be so anxious. And I’ve started to find friends in this area since we moved so things are coming along. Thank you so much for reading Creative Liar! I’ve appreciated your comments!
That sounds really rough.
One thing I can especially empathize with is the concern that my children will ge the bad habits of my wife and I. We are both quiet people and not particularly smooth socially. It is hard seeing my children dealing with these traits.
It certainly can be. Things have gotten better lately (as I mentioned to Jenni above, cutting out caffeine has done wonders for my social anxiety), plus I have an amazing family that keeps me focused and on the right track. It is funny how the things inside of us that we aren’t always the most proud of can be amplified once we have kids. They teach us more about ourselves than anything else.
I am glad to hear of the improvement.
I very much agree with your last lines and have thought about them myself.
Oh my god Erika, I so empathise with your writing. You could have been writing about me. Thankyou for sharing your innermost feelings, as it helps me feel less alone with my own demons. X
Thank you for reading them, Jane. It was a little difficult to realize I was going to publish this once I wrote it because most of my work on my own blog is humor based, but then I realized there are probably a lot of people out there who can relate. It’s nice knowing we’re not alone when it comes to these kinds of feelings.
What an outstanding writer you are. I felt like a voyeur watching you trying to manage…get through the day without any trauma.
So, coffee makes you anxious? Does this mean I should cut down on my habit? I don’t think I can. Given the choice between zombie and anxiety girl, I guess I’ll take the latter because at least I can dress myself and drive. Can we just start a club or something? Have meetings where we just eat cookies and drink coffee and avoid eye contact? I’d be down with that.
In all seriousness, this was a moving post. It made me have feels.
Thank you, Sara. And it does make me anxious, big time. It’s been pretty rough being half asleep all day, but it’s fine because I just have to go to work where I usually just stare at stuff most of the time anyways. But we can certainly create an anti-eye contact/pro-coffee club any day of the week. Just stop by my cubicle and if my boss asks what you’re doing there just say “I’m dropping off the Johnson file.” He’ll know what that means. Probably not.
I can hide under your desk when needed. I will even wear a tie to blend in.
That was such a deep and personal exposure of what many feel but few can share. Very impressive writing and courage. Thank you for sharing yourself.
Thank you, John. It’s always a little difficult publishing something like this, but then I realize why I wrote it in the first place – to remind myself and others that this thing called “human experience” doesn’t have to be so isolating if we don’t want it to be. Thank you for the kind comments!
Wonderful writing, Ericka, and yes, I can certainly relate to a lot of what you’ve shared. Both my grown up kids are super gregarious types. Sometimes they scare me.
Reblogged this on Creative Liar and commented:
A piece I wrote for Black Box Warnings about my life with anxiety and depression. Insert rabid giraffe joke here. There we go. Levity.
Any kind of anxiety is awful. Social anxiety brings its own special kind of hell. You describe this all so well, Ericka. I particularly enjoyed “I can feel my cells breaking down, dying one by one.” Yeah. I’ve been there too. Big hug to you, sister.
Thank you, Madame Weebles. Hug gratefully received.
Wow, Ericka this is beautifully written and powerful. thank you for sharing this and I’m sorry you feel as you do. Your daughter will always want her mom, speaking as someone whose mother wasn’t perfect but I miss her everyday. xoxox
Thank you, Maggie. And I know this, too, it’s just interesting how if I let my mind go, it gets caught up in the negative sometimes. But I can see full well in her face every time she smiles how my impact on her is a mostly positive one and how we both really need each other. Thank you for the kind comments!
Sometimes I read something that makes my heart jump up in my throat because it’s too real and close for comfort. This is it. I can so, so identify.
I have thoughts about raising kids while living with anxiety; namely that if you do your best to be a genuine person who can usually manage to truly put the kids needs first, you’ll be alright. There is no possible way she’ll be better off without you. Not a chance.
Also: I am really worried that I am a rabid giraffe. Can we still be friends if that’s the case?
“…if you do your best to be a genuine person who can usually manage to truly put the kids needs first, you’ll be alright.” Couldn’t have put it better myself. It’s definitely the philosophy I strive to live every day. And of course we can still be friends! Rabid giraffes are the best kind. Right next to roller ones, of course.
Painfully beautiful and it resonates with me so. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for reading and for the kind comment.
It was my pleasure.
God, you sound exactly like me. I haven’t had time to write a post like this and just let it all out in ages. After reading this, I might do just that.
It’s certainly cathartic, Ashley. Definitely recommend it!
Wonderful post. Very captivating. Thank you.
Thank you, Bill. Thank you for reading!
My pleasure.
Being the child of a ‘crazy’ person is not particularly easy, but it’s also not contagious. While mental illness has a ridiculous amount of inescapable heredity involved, I’m living proof that it’s not a done deal. My family are blessedly free of cancer and heart disease and such illnesses, but plagued relentlessly by mental illness, mostly OCD (not ‘oh my gawd my socks aren’t folded right’, but ‘oh my gawd if I don’t do THIS my child/lover/parent WILL die), depression, and social anxiety, with a touch of bipolar thrown in occasionally. I would say I have a massive predisposition for all of the above, and have experienced mental ‘issues’ to a certain degree, but the difference, and my absolute saving grace, was that my mother chose to approach the issue differently to the rest of the family, who love a rug and a sweeper. Being open and honest and straightforward about mental issues is the greatest gift that you can give to your daughter as she grows up. It is not a case of you ruining her life, OR being perfect, it’s a matter of teaching her that it is okay to be however she is, and providing the forum to discuss and explore that.
I’m not saying that it’s contagious as much as I’m saying it can negatively affect a person. Knowing my daughter’s personality, I definitely don’t think she’ll become inflicted with social anxiety considering she is very much the social butterfly. That being said, I’m afraid her witnessing how I react in certain situations will affect her on a much deeper level and somehow disturb the relationship we have. You make a great point about being open and honest and this is my plan as she gets older and can understand me, what I’ve been going through a little better and learns to accurately navigate her own life in light of it. Thank you so much for reading and commenting!
Even if she does end up with some of your nuances, she will also grow up with an understanding of the great variety of people out there, which is a valuable trait. You’re obviously totally switched on, and care so much about her wellbeing, so you’ll be doing a lot better than many parents out there, despite, or because of, ‘the crazy’
As much as I wish you didn’t feel the way you felt to induce writing something like this, I also feel honored that you let us into a different part of Erika. That sounded sort of sexual, but I promise it was 100 percent serious and meant to be a compliment.
Also, when I woke up this morning there was an e-mail notifying me of your post from earlier. It was the first thing I did this morning (I was driving to work reading it – I know I am not supposed to do that – I didn’t care). It really made my day in more ways than one. You need to know this. Thank you.
Thank you so much for the kind words, Becca. They mean a lot. And I’m really glad you liked the post. I think you are hilariously funny and I thought to myself “I must give her some badass advice on how I used to get men to look at me with quizzical, horrified expressions.” Hopefully, you don’t follow any of it. And I’d let you into a different part of me anytime. Um, wait, no…
Haha! I will gladly not take any of your advice. I will, however, use your words for laughing shamelessly in my office and getting weird looks from coworkers.
You ARE a real person. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself, please!
You’re unique, you’re funny, and you write well. Your imagination must mean you and your daughter play some fantastic games – and spending time together as a family is, I reckon, more important than her playing with fellow kidlets.
*sending love & hugs*
Thank you so much! That means a lot, and I have to remind myself sometimes that I do have purpose and she’s benefiting from all I have to offer. The strange thing is that she has many friends, we’ve done a number of play dates, it’s just the feeling that I’m different from other moms that always plagues me. I like talking about literature and really don’t want to harp on incessantly about the latest type of sippy cup. Sometimes I think “maybe it’s them, not me,” but then I realize I’m outnumbered by the “them”! If anything, these past two weeks, I’ve started to learn that nothing matters except my family, the core reason for waking up in the morning. Their support is what makes me who I am, and finally realizing that who am I is perfectly okay is what makes all the difference.
Sounds like you’ve taken some tentative steps forwards there, Ericka. I’m praying that you can continue taking these tiny, tiny steps for being happy in your own skin.
Thank you! I very much appreciate the prayers.
This is so beautifully written. I’m sorry anyone has be feel this way, though I feel it often enough. Coping with being mentally ill (I’m bipolar) and being a parent is so difficult. I frequently feel my illness is damaging my children in some way and wish they could grow up with a nice, normal mom. So far, they don’t agree. Thank you for sharing.
“This is so beautifully written. I’m sorry anyone has be feel this way, though I feel it often enough.” I feel like that all the time, sad that other people are suffering with it even though I’m no stranger to it. And really, I’m starting to believe normal is overrated. Your kids obviously love and appreciate what you’ve done for them as I logically know my daughter has. Maybe it’s just time we redefine normal and realize as long as our kids are healthy and happy, we’re taking the right steps. Thank you so much for reading and commenting!
We’re normal crazy, is what I say. Not shaving our heads like Britney Spears.
Ha! I actually do remind myself of that episode of hers when I gauge my crazy. “Well I haven’t shaved my head or beat a car window in with an umbrella. Things are coming up Ericka!”
Hi there, thank you for sharing. I always figure that when I can’t do something with my mind, I can do something with my body and that helps my mind. The body is a little more concrete…xoxo
Thank you for reading! For me, exercise does help. Yoga and cardio especially. I’ve started working out again here recently as well as cut caffeine and it’s crazy the world of difference it’s made. I feel like I can handle being in my own skin!
Good! It’s hard not to sabotage ourselves isn’t it…dang. I have trouble staying away from coffee…try to limit it, but, it’s one of the few vices I have left…wah wah wah!
Ericka, I’m so glad I found you. This is absolutely gut-wrenchingly honest, and so real. As I read the last couple of lines I could feel it welling up inside me. You’re not alone. I promise you you’re not alone.
Thank you Adam. You’re comment is very kind. It’s good to be reminded of the fact that I’m not alone. Just because I sometimes distort reality in my head, doesn’t mean it’s true.
I feel ya. Just one day without ‘the fear’ would be awesome. Hoping you get there, and me too.
My sweet girl suffers from anxiety. Mostly performance and social anxiety. I’m afraid she got it from me and reading this…broke me. I wasnt always this way. Atleast, I thought I wasnt always this way. I had friendships growing up, but then I hit my depression period. When I awoke from that fog….I was alone. Ever since then, I feel like everything that I say is garbled garbage spewing from my mouth. I think it, its wonderful and then when I try to execute…. there’s no grace, wit or intelligence to my speech. I’m pretty sure no one wants to hear my thoughts anymore. Its all so awkward. Thats ok for me though, I’m great at being alone, at being disconnected….but what about my baby? Its because of her, I’ve had to branch out and find new friends, with kids. I hope it helps her because sometimes it feels as though its killing me.
There I said it. Now I can move on for today. Thanks for the release.
Oh Michelle, I sometimes think if I hadn’t moved so soon after we started to hang out we’d have made our own little mom’s group where we just read in silence, or as I call it, heaven.
I’m a loner by nature, too, even though I’ve somehow managed to have a lot of friends. I think some people naturally think I’m outgoing because I write that way, I’m quirky and I’ve trained myself not to vomit when someone says “hi” to me but really, I like my alone time best. I’m in no way a sharer, unless of course it’s on the Internet! Honestly, I’ve never thought of you as awkward in the slightest. I’ve thought of you as smart, talented and soft spoken yet assertive and that’s exactly why I like you. Maybe it’s just the picture we see of ourselves is very different than what people actually see. Maybe we’re just more critical. And the fact that you’re sacrificing for your daughter says everything about what a great mom you are. Thank you so much for sharing!
Thanks. I tell myself that it’s easier if I give my own warning label. “I’m a wack job, but I like to listen, have an outrageously annoying laugh (that I LOVE) and make a great poundcake. Take it or leave it.”….
Plus, dont take this the wrong way, but knowing that you (along with almost every other commenter) suffer through the same self imposed humilation, makes me feel like less of freak show. Thank you for that.
BTW, I’m seriously thinking of setting up a play date where the kids play and the moms can read. It sounds like a perfect union.
“BTW, I’m seriously thinking of setting up a play date where the kids play and the moms can read.” I might have to make a special trip back to join this!
I can SOOOooo relate. Sometimes I decide that I’m going to just act normal. Because when i’m normal (what’s that?) I say very intelligent things and laugh at all the appropriate times. But then I find I trip over my words, make stupid jokes and spend the wee hours thinking, “Why did I say that?” and “Why didn’t I just sit back close my mouth?” Ug. I hope no one ever figures out what it’s like to be me. It would be so embarrassing!
I know! I sometimes think to myself “If this person knew the circus inside of my head right now, they probably would jump into their car and speed away.” Well, at least we’re not alone in navigating social awkwardness.
Ericka, you are SO not alone. I understood every single line of your beautifully written post. Hang in there. You are not alone. xo
Thank you very much Wendy. As much as I wish others didn’t have to understand the hurt, there’s always comfort in knowing we can support each other.
I agree Ericka. When things are making you feel absolutely crazy, I find it VERY comforting to know that at least 1 other person out there has felt like this before…and they have endured.
Coffee is a total no-go for me. I’m a little bit on the de-caf now, but having regular coffee is like having a seizure on the inside. Everything is quiet outside, but it’s all I can do to hold in the angst, anxiety, and tears. Some days are better than others, and days without coffee are much more manageable.
Thank you for these cherish-able words. What a lovely way you have to tell your story. Thank you for sharing.
You are creative. You are no liar.
“Some days are better than others, and days without coffee are much more manageable.” I totally get this. Thank you so much for reading and appreciating where I’m coming from. And here’s to us both finding ways to cope!
You are vivacious and complex and I love what you write. I may not understand all that you go through or feel, but I understand it’s not always an easy place to wake up to.
Thanks for being a creative liar. Your wicked humour reminds me that things are still funny. I pretty much believe whatever you say.
x
I hate getting play dates for my daughter too. I also totally get the pain you are talking about. When it runs ramped I treat mine with Zoloft and the occasional Ativan. I hope you find some peace. I do think a lot of us feel the way you describe though. Just, not many people are able to express it so perfectly.
Thank you. It’s always surprising to hear other mothers feel like that too, but it’s definitely comforting. Sometimes I think I’m “less than mom” even though logically it’s in no way accurate. We bring wonderful things to the table when it comes to raising our kids. The trick is to constantly remind ourselves of that. Thank you for your comment.
Great stuff. *sigh* That’s all I’ve got.
When you can’t get over it, get through it.
Exactly and thank you.
This made me want to hug you and get drunk with you at a party. But that probably wouldn’t work…this was so honest and heartfelt. Jeeze these black box blogs are killer! You are one of the best killer writers here sister!! Hang on to your bobby pins…you’ll be okay.
Actually that would be fine as long as you bring the vodka.
And thank you so much! I’ve been feeling a lot better lately after kicking coffee, writing and exercising again. I’m doing the things I know I need to do to feel good again! Thank you for the great comment!
I completely understand what you are feeling, I have been battling depression for many years and my biggest fear of it all is how it/I will impact my children. I have been the tortured road of “maybe they are better off without me” because really who wants a Mom/Wife who they couldn’t possibly understand, not that they would want to. In the end it’s great you have such an amazing support group and I am glad to have found your blog to know I am not alone!
Thank you so much for reading! It just goes to show how we all have our struggles and similar we are when faced with them. You know, I sometimes do think that with my daughter, how she’d be better off without me, but then I realize I try very hard on a daily basis to make up for what I’m going through by being as present as possible in her life. I think in some ways, my anxiety and depression have forced me to be on my game, a better mom even though I don’t always realize it. And I’m sure your kids appreciate the work you put into being a mom even when dealing with this condition. Sometimes, it’s just hard for us to see it since our minds perceive things so differently. I hope you find peace even though I personally know how difficult it can be.
Very powerfully written. Hard to be ultra sensitive in life.
Used to think how nice it would be to be a cow – dull, accepting, and wandering thoughtlessly socially with the herd without a care….yes there are people like that, but after all this time, I’d rather not.
What passes for “normal” may not be all that good if you crack them open. Hang in there.
The kid will be fine and adore you…well, not when a teenager…that’s normal development – but just gut it up and survive those years! You’ll be fine.
Believe it. Mucho Hugs!
I’ve definitely went through the “cow phase” or at least wanting to be someone who’s life musings don’t extend much beyond “what shade of lip gloss should I wear today?” But I know it’s not all bad to be me. I have a lot I’m truly grateful for. And thank you so much for the kind words!
Hi, really enjoyed reading this post, thanks for sharing this!! Regarding ‘social phobia’ I empathise (and not in a patronising way). For me it can be like something else taking over how I feel and think; it’s debilitating, something deep within is blocking me, preventing me from living a full life.
What has worked for me is pushing myself constantly, regardless of how anxious or under confident I might feel in social situations. Trying not to give into that inner voice, and not letting it win, control and dictate me, my life and how I see myself. It isn’t easy though, I know that, and some days its like being in Hell just feeling unable to go out and face the world. Yet, being in unknown or daunting situations actually helps me to boost my confidence, and change how I have perceived myself and others.
Things are never as bad as we imagine them to be, and that I have learnt!
Now I know my thinking is irrational. I ask; what am I being afraid of? People are just like me and full of their own insecurities, and no-one really pays that much attention anyway (too busy with their own stuff)! Also; am I going to give a damn about what ‘fools’ think about me? Am I going to relinquish power over myself and my life to them? Hell no is the answer!
Many thanks,
Bex
You know I found this quote (probably on Facebook or Pinterest or some other time suck!) about just giving yourself a few minutes in a situation to see how great it might turn out. When I do that, I open myself up for some amazing experiences so I guess it’s all in the baby steps. And you’re right, it’s all in the perception we have of ourselves because people are usually too busy with their own lives to be concerned about something that may not even exist! Thank you for the great comment Bex!
Hi Ericka,
Thanks for your response, and kind appreciation of my words! Great and poignant quote anyway Ericka! Yes, it is baby steps, you are quite right. Oh, and some days are obviously going to be better than others too!
Take care
Bex
This post was so well-written, even though I am the exact opposite. Sometimes I don’t want to have to go here or there, but once I’m there I’m always fine. And trust me, your daughter is so much better off for having you in her life. As long as she always knows you love her, your relationship will be fine. (I’m excluding the teenage years, for obvious reason.)
“Sometimes I don’t want to have to go here or there, but once I’m there I’m always fine.” You know I tell myself, just go and spend a few minutes and see what happens. And usually, this works for me. The odd part is, most people who know me in real life think I’m extremely outgoing. I think a lot of it is in my head. If only it was a physical thing like a mole that could be removed but alas, it’s my mind and having it removed is probably not an option. At least not a smart one!
Thank you, Ericka. Although I can be quite the social butterfly, I still feel the same way as you do, on the inside. For many years, while addicted to prescription meds and secreting my bipolar disorder, I felt like a fraud. I used to watch how other people behaved, so I could mimick some kind of normal. I think most times we’re just too rough on ourselves and expect so much. You write beautifully and without clutter. And dear girl, your daughter will grow to be sensitive, open-minded, and as intelligent and caring as her mother, so don’t you worry. You will do her proud. It’s nice to know you. And a special thanks goes out to Le Clown for the introduction. Be well. And keep talking. xoxoJulia
Oh Julia, this was simply a beautiful comment and meant a lot receiving it. I’m sorry you had to struggle, but I’m very happy you’ve gotten to a more secure place in life. I wish you well and thank you so much again for your kind words.
We all have our good days and bad days. Not to minimize anything you’re feeling, but I do think we all know just a piece of what sadness/anxiety/whathaveyou feels like. I hope you know you’re not alone.
Thank you and you’re very right about that. I think it just comes down to what state of mind you’re in when you face the bad days. I’m working on confronting those days with a more stable approach.
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Wow, this is one of the best descriptions of covering that I have ever seen. I can’t “like” this enough.
Thank you Cassandra. I wrote it from a very raw place so it’s been great to have so much support in publishing it.
Thanks so much for sharing this. I started suffering severe anxiety this year, and I closely identify with what you’ve written. Makes me feel better.
I am so happy to have made you feel better. It’s the very reason I love writing.
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My best friend suffers from social anxiety, and I see how it limits her. You are so very brave for sharing.
Thank you. And you’re right, it can be very limiting. She’s lucky to have a friend like you who can understand.
Ericka, I am captivated. What wonderful, expressive writing. I appreciate your sharing and letting us in. It would be easier to maybe not share such things, but so powerful to experience. And, it’s easier sometimes to just say, “I’m great.” I feel privileged to have read this. So, thank you. – Amy
Thank you, Amy. I’m honored to have you think so highly of it. You’re right about the “I’m great,” approach. It is easier, but seeing that I don’t have too much of a filter, it’s not always my first option!
Hmm, not sure what anxiety this is about but this reads and smells like real life so it has the grandeur of life itself. I have some anxieties too sometimes, not sure where they originate, but very probably something else – or the opposite of your case. I’m sometimes anxious of not really living. When I was younger some people thought I was autistic – and I felt this way for a long time. Later on, when I felt like I began to understand something about what love really is (oh, feelings, always so much harder than simply being rational), it felt good – but it also hurt the hell out of me at times. But then, of course, if we don’t want to be hurt, we shouldn’t love to begin with,and in fact we shouldn’t try to live. So somehow I prefer anxiousness now – at least up to some point. Certainly when I’m not sure I live, I prefer some anxiousness. But then, of course, not an overdose.
Nice blog. You are of a special kind.
Thank you. And I understand the anxiety about not living. I get that way, too. Funny how you can have two different sides of yourself at odds with each other…
My mother has always had a social anxiety. I’ve had a similar social anxiety. I was hoping it would go away if I decided to make a little human, but now you have me worried it won’t. I can just imagine the sheer terror I will feel waiting at the bus stop with parents for the bus to come. Teacher-parent conferences. Oh my! Maybe I’ll stay childless. Great piece, I love it.
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“No one wants to know what it feels like to be me.”
I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Ericka. There are BILLIONS of us who are suffering with the weight of our identities.
You’re not alone. Not by a long shot.
Most days lately I get this. Fortunately!