the struggle of Sundays

I've talked about this before, how being a mom, every day, hour, minute, can be a struggle. Luckily for me , my medications have been working and, except for a week after Christmas, things have been going well for about 8 months.

I'm doing well {knock on wood}. Well enough that I've even begun looking forward to situations I usually shy away from. I'm not 100% in every circumstance but the anxiety has gone way down. 

Except for Sundays. 

That day seems to be the exception to every anxiety rule I follow. And it mainly centers around church. It just about breaks me every week. 

On Saturday nights I give myself a pep talk; you can do this, it's only 3 hours of church! Then we get there and the panic attacks start threatening. I am certain of where it comes from and I hate to place blame but - 

 

It's Everett.

I know he's only three and a half and still learning how the world works around him but that first 70 minutes of time before Sunday School is like a waking nightmare. His boundless energy and independence is the exact antithesis of what is required to sit still and be reverent for that long. We've tried explaining what Sundays are all about but all he understands is that, eventually, he gets to play with his friends. So the first bit with talks and songs seems like an eternity for him. 

And us. 

I understand that it's just this stage and this too shall pass and he'll never be this age again so enjoy it, etc. 

I get it. But Sundays are supposed to be a recharging day for me and instead it just starts the week out on a misstep. 

My anxiety finally starts to calm by Sunday School but then flares again as church ends and I have to chase Everett as he runs wild around the building. By the time we get home I'm so frustrated and overwhelmed I just need space and a nap. Instead, it's time for dinner, baths and bedtime routines. All of which is a fight because his adrenaline is still up. By the time 7pm rolls around and the kids are finally in their beds, if not asleep, and I have a minute to think, it's always the same thought - 

Why are Sundays so HARD?

They're supposed to be a day of peace and contemplation. Not hard feelings, exasperation and panic attacks.

So I'm making a pledge to be better on Sundays. Me. Not Everett. He's going to be the same no matter how I feel. He's him and I can't control his emotions. But I can control mine and how I react to him. 

We're going to a different church schedule now that will begin at 9am instead of 1pm. I'm hoping that means I'll still be fresh and awake, ready for whatever Sunday wants to throw at me. Because I am in charge of my thoughts and actions. My anxiety is not my master. And each week I'll do a little better because, sometimes, a little better is all it takes.