Living with an anxiety disorder is an exhausting existence. There’s an active volcano in my brain that could erupt at any moment, causing devastation and a meltdown in the middle of the grocery aisle. It’s been happening more often in recent weeks and quite frankly, I am dead tired in trying to figure out how to keep up with it. Treatments have side effects and add that on top of already feeling like you’re about to fall off your plane of existence into oblivion… and well, it makes it incredibly difficult to get up the energy to do anything. My new medication is affecting my balance, so now I’m stumbling and falling a lot, which makes me look like I’m intoxicated. I then have anxious feelings about whether or not anyone thinks I am drunk at work, and I worry about that… and the snowball effect has begun. I have a worst case scenario mindset and my brain just runs with that. Nothing else… not like using logic to, I dunno, communicate with your fellow humans or not jump to the worst conclusion I could come up with for what other people are going to think about me…. yeah. Stuff like that. I know I’m rambling right now, but this is kind of therapeutic right now, and who knows, it might help me tighten a few of the screws I have loose.

So, I’m stumbling, and off balance. The doctor says it is one of the more common side effects of the new medication I am trying. So, we’re going to see if it sorts itself out in a week or so and if it doesn’t, we will try something else. Cool. It is a pain in the ass to be dizzy and off balance, like I’m on a boat and I haven’t got my sea legs yet. I am in week two of the most anxious and on edge I have felt in months, and like most people who deal with anxiety and panic, there’s nothing specific to pinpoint why it’s happening. I’d been on the same medication for months, things were status quo at my job, homelife was average with no blips on the radar, and then…. BAM. It was like a nuclear meltdown. Everything instantly seemed to be vapourised to ashes. Afraid of everything from being outside, to being around people in such a “fragile” state. Afraid of being by myself and afraid of being with someone. Horrified by my own thoughts, mostly thoughts of failure and worthlessness and the feeling of this weight in my muscles and bones, I ached like I haven’t ached in months.

Pardon my français, but it knocked me the fuck OUT. I feel like I fell flat on my face after tripping over my own feet. You know that saying, the only person in your way is you? Boy, ain’t it the truth? I keep realizing each time these brick walls smash me in the face, it’s me that’s built the brick wall. Something in my mind won’t let me rest. Keeps pressuring me to do more, be more, and flawlessly of course, because if I don’t look like I’ve been doing this my whole life and have every single duck in a row, I am a failure as a human being and am therefore a waste of time and energy. How’s that for being hard on yourself? Seriously, I am so fucking done with thinking this way. You’re killin’ me Smalls.

I really need to sort my shit out. I am so tired of living with so much doom and gloom in my head. I am so tired of just existing, and not living! I know I’m going to need help. And it’s going to be hard for me to ask for help. I’ve taken a first step and gone to the doctor. We talked for awhile and I described how I was feeling, and with Chad by my side, basically spilled my guts about how shitty I was feeling. I think I even swore a few times. Blood tests, new medication trial, and I’m being referred to a psychiatrist. Ze ball iz rollin’. I also got some breathing exercises, and was encouraged to continue my journal, because he said it truly can help sort out your thoughts and make a plan for the future.

 

So here we are.

 

I guess I’ve been airing my dirty laundry… time to sort, I guess? (Who am I kidding, I wash everything on cold and hope for the best… except my bras… those bitches are expensive)

 

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