A lot of my anxiety stems from the fear of being inadequate, unqualified, insufficient.

This worry creeps into everything.

Am I taking good enough care of my son? Am I feeding him properly? Am I spending enough time with him? Is he sleeping enough? Oh no I haven’t potty trained him. How are we going to teach him to read?

This worry does not stop. As I spend time with my son, I worry about the things I’m not doing for work. I worry that they’ll think they made a mistake in hiring me. I fear that I forgot something. Did I reply to that email? Did I get approval from the right people? Am I on top of everything I’m supposed to be doing? I keep busy, but am I really getting anything done?

And even as I worry about being found wanting at work, I worry about things at home. Is my mom okay? Is Oneal’s dad okay? Am I cooking enough healthy food? Oh God the house is a mess. I need to clean. Why is it other people are able to clean up and organize their shit at home? I’ve barely done a thing!

And then my anxiety goes into an infinite loop. Are my meds working? I guess they’re working. But why am I dizzy? What is this feeling of dread in my stomach? Why is my throat locking up again? Oh God I haven’t been able to do yoga. I’m barely journaling. Shit. Shit.

Am I sleeping enough? Am I eating enough? What if I get sick? How will I go to a hospital?

To top it all off, I worry about Lucas inheriting my anxiety.

The medication helps, to be honest. While I still feel dread, anxiety, nervousness, it is no longer so crippling, so violent, so intense. But medication will only do so much. The rest is up to me.

Am I doing enough? (Here we go again.)