150 minutes ago they drove out of the driveway, leaving me standing, waving, and wishing them a safe trip.

148 minutes ago they drove back into the driveway, where I handed them something they forgot, and again stood, and waved as they departed once more.

My husband, he gets me.

He knows that when we travel I never sleep, because I have to ‘scan’ the road. Even if I’m not driving, I have to be awake. What if something happens? I might be able to avert disaster! {You know I have an anxiety issue, right?}

He’s sent me a couple of messages – “Ollie is already asleep”, “This is road runner, we are passing through Gympie. Just going past Maccas to be exact. Beep! Beep!”

My husband, he gets me.

He knows that my anxiety will be at a million and eleventy degrees until I get the call early this evening that they have arrived, and are safe. He knows that I would spend every second while I know they are travelling worrying,  internally screaming at myself that everything is fine, and the police are not about to show up at the door, and to stop being stupid and enjoy the beginning of my freedom.

He knows that instead of enjoying the peace, I am maniacally scrubbing my house. Because sometimes my anxiety is at a level that physical activity is the only thing that helps.

He knows. He gets me.

By the time they safely arrive tonight with his Mum, in her home, my house will be sparkling and I will then, finally, be ready to enjoy a week of life with minimal responsibility and the freedom to be as selfish as I want with my time and the effort I choose, or choose not to expend on other people.

Already I miss them, while they are on their great adventure.

Now please excuse me while I go and clean the kitchen again. I’ve already exerted a considerable amount of energy on it, but my anxiety is screaming at me to clean the microwave. Because a clean house averts disaster?

In my head is a messy place to be….