Out of sorts, bitchy?
Like something is very awry.
Impending doom.
Just a matter of time…
I am for the most part, very happy. Things are ongoing in my life that are full of awesome; there is a sense of a shell being stripped off and discarded. A recognition of needs and wants that I have suppressed due to a fear of…
Ha, ha, ha. Isn’t anxiety fucking FUN?
You know, I don’t even have a name for it. Just a fear, that paralyzed the whole of me.
But that sense of lack, of not enough, is starting to fade. It’s like taking off clothing decorated with 80# weights.
I can’t even begin to describe the relief.
There’s a liiiiight…over at the Frankenstein place. Wait. Wrong musical.
But today? Today, I am feeling like maybe those clothes are necessary.1 That I should be wearing those clothes. To hide. To be less. To be quiet, sit down, what the fuck do you THINK you are doing, you don’t deserve anything…blah blah blah, old tapes, ad infinitum, ad nauseum.
Seriously, Anxiety?
Knock it off.
We are fine. We are just approaching lightspeed.
This is just the pre-flight jitters, Self. These free floating bits of worry? Are just the nasty old tapes in your head breaking apart, disintegrating.
So.
Today I had a nasty anxiety spike. It was mostly just the goddamn old tapes in my head – you know the ones: worthless, wordless, everybody hates you, worm-eatery, blah yarg fuckety smuckety.
Did I warn you that this post might contain a cussword or two? I didn’t?
Consider yourself warned.
Man, I loathe feeling like that. I guess there isn’t a person alive who doesn’t have those moments, every now and again. They suck syphilitic goat, no two ways about it. For most of the afternoon, all I could really do was sit on the couch, play a stupid video game, and tell myself over and over that my brain was being an idiot. I eventually reached out to my friends – who I know care about me – and asked for a bit of love. Which they poured over me, with gusto.
A lot of gusto.
With a promise of cut-off shorts and bartending, even.
I have *very* good friends.
I wish I could say that I snapped out of it right away. I didn’t Brain weirdness doesn’t just go away. But I did convince myself to stop huddling in on myself, to interact with friends and family, to make dinner, and eventually to go for a run.
Please refer to the first sentence in this post.
I feel better now than I have all day. I mean, minus the wobbly legs and the sweat pouring down my face. Of course, part of it is the endorphins; however, some of it is just not letting the stupid anxiety win.
Fuck that shit. I deserve better than being a whiny neurotic heap on my couch.
At any rate. I didn’t have much more to say. I wanted to write about kicking anxiety’s ass (mostly) to the curb, at least for the evening.
I also wanted to post (with video links because I’m cool like that) my run music. It was on shuffle, so it was totally the Universe channeling the right music for me. Even if much of it had to do with Code 187-MDK and the 80’s.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain. –Frank Herbert, Dune
I have to go to the dentist today. It’s just a cleaning and inspection of my teeth and problem area(s). No bigs, right? RIGHT?
*deep breath*
I am a 42 year old woman.
I have had two children.
Vaginally, bitches.
I have monthly headpain that would fell an elephant in its tracks.
I suffer from social /crowd anxiety and attend a large university.
Sans medication.
I have no reason to fear the dentist.
None.
Open wide.
I will get my game face on, pull up my big-girl britches and go to the fucking dentist by myself. I will not hyperventilate. I will not punch anyone. I will not cry.
The Process 