As we entered the local pizza and arcade establishment, I felt a wave of dread wash over me. I spotted a sign announcing free face painting from noon to 3 p.m. My intention had been simple: allow the children to play on the climbing structure, grab some lunch, and indulge in a few games that would inevitably result in plastic trinkets destined for the trash. However, the prospect of my kids getting face paint from an artist sent my anxiety spiraling.
Before I could divert her attention, my eldest daughter exclaimed, “Mom! Can I get my face painted?” Why must she read? “Let’s focus on the other fun activities for now,” I replied, hoping to steer her away from the idea.
Face painting was not on my agenda. I had mentally prepared for a straightforward outing, yet with obsessive-compulsive disorder and anxiety, even the simplest plans can become overwhelming. The anticipation and nerves transform me into a buzzkill parent.
My children’s joy often comes at my own expense. What delights them sends me into a tailspin. Face paint, bubbles, balloon animals, goodie bags, bounce houses, and ball pits? I dread them all.
I long to appreciate the sight of their rainbow-painted faces without fretting over potential tantrums from smudges or ruined clothing. I wish I could simply enjoy being out of the house. Yet, my thoughts fixate on the bathroom’s location, anticipating the inevitable moment when one of my children will need to use it. With three kids, it’s a certainty that at least one—often all—will need to poop in a public restroom, likely one that lacks toilet paper.
I also wish I could take joy in seeing them wielding balloon swords with pride, but instead, I only think of how soon the balloon will pop, triggering tears and comparisons among siblings. The thought of the long wait for a replacement balloon looms, as does the certainty that another bathroom trip will be necessary while we stand in line.
Then there’s the anxiety of lurking germs, respiratory infections, and the thought of fecal matter on everything. That ball pit? My mind immediately jumps to the likelihood that one or all of my kids will come down with something in a couple of days. Those plastic balls have never seen soap, and the slides? I can’t even begin to think about it.
Before offering advice such as seeing a therapist or suggesting I relax and enjoy my children, let me clarify: I have been in therapy for two decades and have a regimen of medications that help. I’m well aware of my struggles, and I carry a heavy guilt for not being able to relish these moments.
With OCD and anxiety, I often see the chaos before I see the joy. I don’t notice the creativity; I see the mess. My mind is quick to focus on the glitter and paint that will surely end up in my bathroom, the sand that will invade my kitchen, and the small toys that will litter my floors. I don’t just see clutter; I feel it.
However, I remind myself that my children are oblivious to these worries. They are too young to grasp the complexities of mental illness or why I feel a surge of panic at the thought of an arcade visit. For now, they are self-absorbed in their own painted faces and joyous shouts, and that is how it should be.
As they grow older, I will explain the reasons behind my medication and the importance of seeking help for mental health. I intend to break the stigma surrounding these discussions.
Until then, my smile will continue to mask the multitude of anxieties I face during kid-friendly outings. I wish I could be the type of parent who simply says “no” to all the things I find overwhelming, but I can’t. So, I sacrifice my own comfort for their happiness.
For those interested in navigating the world of home insemination and parenting, this link will lead you to an insightful resource. Additionally, check out this authoritative piece on encouraging laughter in babies from here. If you’re looking for more information on pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC provides excellent resources.
In summary, my anxiety often clouds my ability to enjoy time with my children, making me feel like a buzzkill parent. Yet, I strive to balance my struggles while also fostering their joy, knowing that one day, I will share my experiences with them.