Anxiety

My anxiety rears its ugly head a lot. And there are times when I’m not even sure why I have it, which then gives me even more anxiety until I can figure it out or it goes away. A lot of my anxiety stems from how I think others perceive me. How I look, how I act, how I seem, what I say… it all causes anxiety on any given day. I’ll be fine some days, where nothing will cause anxiety. Some days I’ll be fine until I climb into bed and try to sleep, and then I start agonizing over things I’ve said that might be taken the wrong way, or might make someone think of me badly. And then there are some days where I get immediate anxiety after something I say.  I like the days when I don’t have any anxiety.

It’s really sad to say, but I also have anxiety during activities if I don’t know what is going to happen. I was going to take a weekend trip to another city over the summer, but cancelled it because I had no idea what I was going to do once I got there. There’s a long holiday weekend coming up soon, and I’m going on at trip. The only reason I haven’t cancelled this one is because everything is planned out already. All I have to do is make sure I’m at the bus on time. As such, I don’t go out very often unless I have a plan of “okay, I’m going to do this today, and I might do this, too.” I don’t socialize often either. But I don’t usually reject an invitation to hang out with someone, just because I don’t get such invitations often and I know I need to socialize outside of work.

I think I’ve always had anxiety and just didn’t know it. I always thought I was just excruciatingly shy. But looking back, I do see the same symptoms I get now. The not wanting to talk to people I don’t know. The turning red if I have to talk to someone or in front of a group. The pounding heartbeat. The cold sweats. The need to psych myself up to use the phone or contribute to a conversation.

I have one memory from high school where I think my mom started to realize maybe I wasn’t just shy. But she never did try to get me help. I had been invited to a friend’s birthday party at a pizza restaurant, but we weren’t sure if we were at the right place. So my mom told me to go to the counter and ask. I couldn’t do it. I was almost in tears, and I knew I really should get out of the car and go in, but I couldn’t make myself move. She got so angry and slammed out something  about it not being normal.

I think I started to get a bit better when I went to college because I had to do everything for myself. But then things got worse again because I got sick, and the symptoms of my physical illness caused a lot of stress and anxiety. That’s when I finally realized that maybe I have anxiety. And it’s stuck around ever since. Even with what I found out to be an autoimmune disease under control with few lingering symptoms.

Anxiety sucks. And I’m hoping I’ll be able to find better ways to cope with it. Although, I’d love it if I could get rid of it entirely, but I’ll settle for learning to cope.

I’ll see you in the next one.

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I’m tired.

One of the hardest parts of having depression, anxiety, and an auto-immune disease is the constant exhaustion. It’s the kind of tired where you can sleep twelve hours and need a nap ten minutes after you get up.The kind of tired where no amount of coffee, cola, or tea will even make a dent in how you feel. The kind of tired where you get really good at faking being happy, awake, and energetic so others don’t question you. The kind of tired where you get really good at ignoring how tired you are so you don’t fall asleep at work. The kind of tired where you’re fighting the need for sleep so hard it gives you a headache. The kind of tired where you catch yourself staring at and thinking of nothing more often than you used to. And it’s the kind of tired that is so bone-deep your body hurts and all you want to do is stay in bed and sleep all day, knowing, even if you do, you’ll still be tired when you wake up again.

To those of you who know this pain, please know you are not alone, and we will make it through. One day at a time.

I had more to say on this topic, but I feel like it will ruin the affect of this post. So, I’ll include the rest of what I had to say sometime later in another post.

MuteMath

Occasionally I’ll post music that I enjoy and makes me feel better. Today that music is MuteMath. I’ve been listening to their music quite a bit lately. Here’s their song called Used To.

Words

It’s been really difficult  for me to start this. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what to say. That’s been a problem for me for four years now. Writing anything has been difficult. I used to love writing letters, blog posts, journals, stories, etc. Now I struggle to find words to write anything. I’ve never been a really vocal person, so writing was always a way for me to express myself. I even have a degree for writing. But since I graduated and don’t have deadlines and the threat of failing grades hanging over my head, I just don’t have the motivation or inspiration to really writing more than a few paragraphs. Which sucks. I love writing, and I have plenty of ideas floating around, I just can’t seem to get the words out onto paper or word processor. I don’t know for certain why this is the case for me. Maybe I’m just lazy and need to find my motivation again. Maybe it’s what I think and I have un-diagnosed depression. I don’t know. And won’t until I manage to get in to see someone about it. Which won’t happen anytime soon, because I’m currently living in a country where mental health problems are pushed under the rug and ignored or looked on as something that should be hidden. This country is getting better, but it’s still really difficult to find treatment for mental health. Especially in English. 

I’m hoping over the next year or so, I’ll be able to make some progress with my mental health. I have some pretty severe generalized and social anxiety, and I’m hoping to start learning how to cope with and maybe overcome it. It keeps me from going places a lot of the time. If I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, I sometimes won’t go. Other times, if it’s just a small trip somewhere, I’ll make myself go anyway, because I know if I don’t try, I’ll never have any fun and I’ll never leave my apartment. My anxiety also makes me dwell on things I have said. I’ve had some pretty bad experiences where people have used my own words against me, or took things I have said and have been pretty savage in telling me I shouldn’t be the way I am. I’ve lost a number of friends this way. I also have a really bad habit of being an asshole sometimes, though. So maybe I deserve it. And this assholery is probably why I don’t have friends. 

Back to anxiety and how I dwell on words. At my current place of work, I’ve had certain unwanted confrontations with people about asshole things I have said, which made me realize I was an asshole. I’ve been trying to limit what I say at work, but I’m constantly worried I’m going to accidentally let the asshole slip again and say something not appropriate or nice. So whenever I say something to someone I’m not completely comfortable with (which is almost everyone), I either turn red from immediate anxiety that they won’t care about what I’m saying, or they won’t react the way I think they should. And then later, usually when I’m trying to sleep, I’ll think about it again and worry that they’ll think I’m stupid, or weird. It’s a horrible thing to go through. And there are some nights (thankfully not in a while) where it will get to the point where I’ll end up crying because I don’t know how to talk myself out of a dark spiral without making it worse.

For not knowing what to say, I sure have said a lot. I can hope I’ll be able to keep this blog up and going with posts. The last blog I tried to keep kind of died because I stopped writing. I don’t think I can guarantee a post every week, at least not yet. I can try, but until I’m actually getting treatment/actively working on fixing my brain, I’m not sure if I’ll have much to say. Unless I just talk about life. Yeah, I’ll probably just talk about life and how I do things while living with possible depression, and definite anxiety.

Until the next one.