It's a chilly morning. My anxiety is full blown for some reason. Z took an early nap--she asked to go lie down, poor girl. I took a shower, started the washer, folded clothes, made the bed, cleaned up the kitchen and still have anxiety. Not sure what it's about. Well, that's not true. It's my control issues. I have them and it's starting to drive me crazy. I need things to be perfect. Perfect to me means balanced, healthy, clean and happy. Some of the people in my life are struggling. I see where they need help and it is so difficult for me not to want to literally swoop in and deal with it myself. As if I have all of the answers. This morning, playing with Z and her little doll house, it was as if that was what I was trying to do in my own life. Pick up dolls, place them where you want them. Arrange the house the way you want it. Make the dolls go to bed, eat, play, etc. It's sort of sick to have that realization about yourself. I want to play God. I want everyone to take my advice. I want people to do as I say. I want them to do because I feel they will be happier and better off. I need to get a grip here. Who do I think I am??? I must be going through some strange psychological break of some sort.
Another example of feeling the need to control is my inability to decide whether or not to have another child. I see the benefits of having siblings. Before I get a bunch of mail telling me to have another--I know this. I've been researching the benefits of having only one. I worry about her being lonely. However, I worry about not being able to provide her with the life I want her to have. See..."I want" her to have. My chest is starting to cave in over this. I worry about losing myself. I don't want that for Z either. I want to be happy for her. I want the house to be a place of calm and not tons of stress. I see so much angst in other households and freak out about going through that. However, I'm seeing the negative here and freaking myself out. More kids normally means more fun. More laughing. More playing. More talks and more memories of companionship. It means having a partner and a person to talk to. It helps you with problem solving. Yet, I know there are examples where this has backfired and siblings are no longer speaking. It's so hard to figure out. I researched famous only children. Interesting. Here are some: (well, a lot)
Al Pacino
Alan Greenspan
Alicia Keys
Ansel Adams
Anthony Hopkins
Betty White
Bill Bradley
Brooke Shields
Burt Bacharach
Candice Bergen
Carol Burnett
Cary Grant
Charles Lindbergh
Charlize Theron
Chelsea Clinton
Christina Applegate
Cole Porter
Condoleezza Rice
Daniel Radcliffe
Danielle Steel
David Copperfield
E. M. Forster
Eleanor Roosevelt
Elvis Presley
Enoch Powell
Ezra Pound
Frank Sinatra
Franklin D. Roosevelt
Gerald Ford
Gregory Peck
Hans Christian Andersen
Iris Murdoch
Isaac Newton
James Dean
Jeff Bagwell
Joe Montana
John Lennon
Jean-Paul Sartre
John the Baptist
John Updike
Joy Behar
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Laura Bush
Lauren Bacall
LeAnn Rimes
Lenny Kravitz
Leonardo da Vinci
Lisa Marie Presley
Mahatma Gandhi
Maria Sharapova
Mark Burnett
Mary Elizabeth Aitcheson Gore (“Tipper”)
Matthew Perry
Nancy Reagan
Natalie Portman
Nick Faldo
Richie Sambora
Robert De Niro
Robin Williams
Rudy Giuliani
Sammy Davis, Jr.
Samuel L. Jackson
Sarah Michelle Gellar
Selena Gomez
Shawn Johnson
Shirley Jones
Sophia Bush
Steve Allen
Ted Koppel
Teller
Teri Hatcher
Tiger Woods
Tommy Lee Jones
Walter Cronkite
William Randolph Hearst
I don't want her to be spoiled...but I don't feel it has to be that way. It has to do with us. I'm sure I shouldn't even be writing about this. I just thought I'd throw it out into the universe and see if that helps.
I'm the second child. That fact sticks with me a lot.
There is no right answer, is there?
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