It got to the point where I couldn’t leave the house.
A small, round bruise on my leg would send me into unshakeable despair.
“I’m going to die,” I’d repeat to myself.
My suffering boyfriend, the man who didn’t sign up for this, would hold me and remind me, like he always did, that everything was going to be ok. You are ok.
And that’s the kicker, right? You know you are ok, so why are you feeling this way?
Minor panic attacks were hitting two or three times a week, while the major ones, the “PLEASE, SOMEONE TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE I’M PROBABLY HAVING A STROKE” moments, were once or twice a month. It made me irritable, it made me flakey and it made me want to retreat from the world.
Throughout my twenties, I was confused, I was sad, I drank, I passive-aggressively texted paramours, I threw myself into my job, I changed who I was for the worst. All of these ugly feelings and character manifestations happened, but there was one (more…)
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.
I turned 30 last June.
Ever since that day, I’ve been writing less and less on this blog. Half of the reason why is because I started a grown-up writing gig that takes up a lot of my time and mental energy. The other half of the reason why is what this blog post is about.
After turning 30, I became a mess-bag of anxiety. So much so, that all I could think about was my anxiety, and I didn’t want to turn this blog into dozens of posts of me going, “I’m dying! WE’RE ALL DYING!!!” I did write a couple of posts regarding my anxiety and hypochondria, which you can read here and here– if you feel like reading about an unhinged 30-year-old (who doesn’t?)
From most accounts, women LOVE their life after 30. They say that they understand themselves better and no longer make the dumb career/relationship/financial choices that they did in their twenties. These women say they feel more comfortable in their own skin and would not go back to their twenties for ANYTHING, even if it meant getting (more…)
(tap, tap, tap)
Is this thing on?
I’m going to write a blog post today.
It’s the first time I’ve felt like doing it in awhile.
You see, I started a new writing job that has (happily) exhausted my ability to drum up words at the end of the day, in addition to a dad health scare (blood clot in intestinal artery; dad had to be subjected to me texting him every hour while in the hospital for five days) that left me frantic and emotionally spent.
Oh, and I’ve also had crippling anxiety lately.
Sadly, I’m not using the word “crippling” lightly here. I wish I was. I wish I could use the adjective “funkifying” instead.
I thought my anxiety got better after starting the new job; I figured that financial security and a routine would help set me back on track. And in some ways it did. However, I’m beginning to come to terms with the fact that if you have anxiety, there is probably no immediate magic, sparkly eraser for it.
So, as I mentioned before, (more…)
Something happened to me recently: I became scared of everything.
I write about my anxieties and fears often on this blog and sometimes I write about them in a joking manner, but lately it’s become not as funny as an episode of Two and a Half Men.
No, lately my days are filled with wanting to sleep, crying, panic attacks or near panic attacks, obsessively checking WebMD, not wanting to leave the house, leaving the house, but driving back to make sure that the door is locked a third time, fear of traveling and various physical aches and pains due to all the above.
I’ve never been depressed. Even in my early twenties when I spent many a’ emo nights writing tragic song lyrics with eraseable marker on my mirror, I knew I wasn’t depressed. I knew that I would no longer feel this way one day and that all my mixed emotions were due to not knowing who I was or what I wanted.
And it did all come together.
I figured out what I wanted and I got it.
I went after it and I (more…)
Are you one of those people that when strangers ask you how life is you draw a complete blank, figuring that life has become so monotonous nothing is worth talking about? You stand there with the faintest bit of drool trickling out of the corner of your mouth and begin zoning in on squirrels playing over the question asker’s shoulder? It physically hurts to think about and articulate the happenings in your life. That physical pain and frustration turns to rage and you begin growling at the person; they run off and you’re left staring into a gaping void known as your life.
Or when a true friend asks you how life is, you scramble to find something to gripe about because you have no idea why? Instead of saying “LIFE IS GRAND!” (which it is) to the question of your well being, you respond with, “Eh, I’m ok. Yeah, just ok. I’m fairly certain the right side of my body is dying with more speed than the left and I’m not sure I ever want to get married or have babies- unless they help drive (more…)
I like following popular blogs. Not so much in that I find the material interesting (by the time I’ve found the blogs, the authors have already begun posting less than engaging material because they’ve reached a success that doesn’t demand time or quality), but because I’m intrigued with their lives as popular bloggers.
Recently, a blogger friend clued me in to some blogger drama going on with the blog Single Dad Laughing. In short, a lot of readers and bloggers have increasingly become annoyed at author Dan Pearce’s seemingly narcissistic blog rants. A recent SDL post spawned this angry response from Daddy blogger, Beta Dad. Though I don’t believe in blogger bashing, I found Beta Dad’s blog post kind of hysterical.
I don’t always follow Single Dad Laughing, but when I do, I’ve spotted keywords such as “depression“, “hiatus” (Dan had to take temporary mental health hiatus from blogging) and other words that insinuate emotional unrest.
This got me (more…)
I was working on a post about young entrepreneurs and how they make me feel like crawling under a rock and dying, but instead I’m going to write about anxiety.
My mother just called me to tell me that my grandmother is in the ER with high blood pressure. 235 over 98, I believe.
Obviously this got me worried, but the doctors said her blood work, oxygen levels and EKG results are all good. However, they’re going to keep her overnight.
My mother and I immediately assumed that stress is causing my grandmother’s high blood pressure, but the doctor said it wouldn’t make it rise that high. Regardless, I know that her stress and the ways she doesn’t deal with it is at least playing a minor factor in her high blood pressure. A few days ago she did not feel well and she told me it was because of stress.
Grandma has a lot to be stressed about, but don’t we all these days? In my grandmother’s situation she has a partner who has Alzheimer’s. It is something my grandmother has not come (more…)