I’m anxious… but I am happy. You know that deep contentment we get from small every day things? I’m playing WoW and making spaghetti sauce, the kids are in their rooms, doing their thing and Vin is working in the living room. It’s quiet, it’s a hot day but not the kind that weighs you down, there’s a slight breeze. It’s actually quite perfect… I should go sit outside.
I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. I hate my neighbour’s son. *sigh* Why do some young men feel the need to have obnoxiously loud cars? Is that shit turning teenage girls on? Cuz, trust me, the old bat ain’t feelin it! Gimme a purring Mustang over these moded Japanese cars any day!
Enough negativity! Look at what I’m making for dinner! Spaghetti sauce! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Ok, ok, calm your tits!
You know… in French we say calm your pompom. Like this: On se calme le pompom!
Oh good. What better way to ruin a lovely day than by having a major anxiety attack. I am shaking, muscle twitches and I sobbed like a 5 year old. Fun times. I just can’t deal with all that I need to do. I know it’s not much but it’s too much. I should call my dad, I should call my brothers, I should call my mom and go visit her new place, I should text my friend who is grieving the loss of a loved one, I have to drive my daughter to and from school for her last few exams, Vin will be gone all Saturday because there’s a yard sale at his mom’s, there are nail apppointments and hair appointments, errands to run, the apartment is a giant mess and the support group for people living with anxiety starts next Thursday…
I should call… But I can’t. I’m terrified of calling. I feel good one moment and bad the next because I am under too much pressure and I don’t know how to explain that to people and I don’t know how to cope with their responses. They mean well. They’re not helping. Nothing helps right now. I am totally and completely overwhelmed. So I hide. And I feel guilty. And I hate myself.
The support group. Going to the support group for people living with anxiety makes me very anxious. For one thing, I went to the information session and their chairs are so horribly uncomfortable that I was almost in tears at the end. I can’t imagine having to sit on one of those for twice as much time, once a week, while eviscerating myself in front of other anxious strangers. And then there’s the whole GROUP thing. Groups are great, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that they’d be so much better if they involved fewer people.
There… I am calmer now. Writing does help. So does Ativan. I’m gonna drink some decaf and do pet battles and try to forget all the stresses. And I will try to forget that the 5 year old in me is gnawing at the bit to go look at dolls at the store… As if I needed more dolls…