Hot flash on a hot summer night…

Know what is more fun than having hot flashes in the dead of winter? Well, obviously it’s having hot flashes in the heart of summer. Sleep? Nah, I didn’t really want to get any of that anyway!

It’s hard to deal with the level of self-hatred I feel when I try to sing. It bothers me. I can’t find an acceptable explanation for it. It feels like my voice is a caged animal… a terrified, caged animal.

This week is shaping up to be one long anxiety attack… I typed this two hours ago… since then I lost my keys and had to have my father in law pick up my daughter from school because otherwise she’d have been stranded there with no lunch. So yeah… anxiety now has a firm base to build on for this week. Yes I know I am being negative and making it worse. But right now all I wanna do is lie down and scream like a 2 yr old whose blankie is in the washing machine.

I have to call the salon to re-schedule my nail appointment. But that means picking up the phone and talking to a person. I’ll call tomorrow. And fuck whoever keeps ringing my fucking doorbell! GO AWAY, HUMANS! My daughter is my hero! She answered the door! It was the super, he wanted to give us his new phone number. Crisis averted and humans avoided!

I’m dropping little bits of chocolate all over my pretty linen dress. I’m such a dainty fucking lady.

Thursday I have to attend a support group meeting for people who suffer from anxiety. I have been anxious about that since I went to the information session two weeks ago. How stupid is it, though, that I am anxious about going to the anxiety support group. I’m terrified everyone will think I am annoying and loud and flashy and talk too fucking much and as if having blue hair and tattoos doesn’t make seem like an attention whore, the fact that I need them to find me a special chair because of my fibromyalgia surely will. The chairs they have in that room are murder on my back; the seat is tilted backwards as is the back rest so it put an awful lot of strain on my body to try to remain somewhat upright. *sigh* I don’t wanna go. There’s gonna be people there. I don’t wanna go. They’re gonna make us do homework. I don’t wanna go. They’re gonna make us talk. I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go. I just wanna hide. I just wanna stop being afraid. I’m tired of constantly feeling like a hunted fox.


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