source: The New Yorker
I often write about my anxiety on this blog.
Maybe you’re sick of reading it, or maybe you can relate. Maybe you’re a hypochondriac like me. If you are, share a soothing comment down below; it’s nice to know I’m not the only nerveball out there.
My anxiety has been ragin’ strong over the past year, and I’m not sure at what point I will finally recognize it’s an issue.
Last night, I was afraid to go to sleep because I thought I wouldn’t wake up. That probably should have tipped me off as a problem, but it didn’t.
Going to the doctor’s office last week because I had a 99.3 temperature and diarrhea and having the nurse tell me that I’ve voluntarily been to their office eight times in six months should have sent off a warning signal in my brain.
But it hasn’t.
I just continue to let my fears and anxieties consume me like a person with tape worm at a buffet. It can put me in a bad mood and sometimes it makes me not want to get out of bed.
Just a dead shark on a forklift
MY MOM IS IN TOWN!
That means a lot of quality mom and daughter bonding time, her telling me I should brush my hair and her telling my boyfriend stories about how I don’t share food.
I love my Mom more than anything. I am her only daughter and she solely raised me, so needless to say we’re very much alike. Due to this fact and the fact that we both come from a long lineage of guilt-inducing Jews, we bicker a lot. I went to therapy to nip the guilt tripping trait in the bud, so when my mother, and especially my grandmother, try to pull it on me, I turn into a raving She-Hulk. When you’re little, you don’t know any better; feeling guilty for absolutely nothing was pounded into my soft skull at a very young age. When you’re older, you realize that normal people don’t say things like, “You think I’m stupid!” when you don’t agree with something they say or, “You must not like spending Christmas-” -we’re religiously inadequate Jews- “-with the family anymore!” (more…)