Anxiety struggles

I'm not dead!
I'm still here!

A little MIA. But I'm still here. Lot's of things I could write about, a lot of weight related things I could drag on and on about, lot's of life events and such. But today I've decided not to do any of that.

Today, I'm going to discuss anxiety.
Again.

I once shared one of the worst anxiety attacks of my life on here. And today I'm just going to talk about anxiety in general. It's taken me quite some time to become open about my anxiety. I mean, a large part of me thought it was normal to lay in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about that one time I was rude to little Susie on the swingset eight years ago, gosh, does she still remember that? Did I apologize to her? I should send her a card, or a cake. That's it, I'll bake her a cake, that wouldn't be coming on too strong would it? What if she has an allergy and I kill her. Susie must hate me.

It wasn't until one night when I was explaining to Travis why I needed to sleep with the door locked, with my jeans still on, and why there had to be a lamp beside my bed and that my messy room was a strategic protection mechanism that I realized I had a problem. See, I figured if someone broke into the house obviously my room needed to be locked to hopefully deter them. If they somehow did break in they would struggle getting to me through all the mess. When they reached me and, of course attempted to rape me I would slow them down by still wearing my jeans and while they tried to take my jeans off I could just hit them over the head with the lamp and promptly escape. I was I believe 16 at the time. And yes, I thought I was normal, brilliant even. For years I had pretended to be asleep in my bed when I was absolutely positive there was someone in the house hoping they would leave me alone if I didn't see their face.

When Travis pointed out, with a laugh of course, that I was crazy I was confused. I was crazy? It wasn't normal to be preparing for the world to explode at every moment? The sinking feeling in my stomach all the time wasn't 'normal.' I didn't just dislike the doctors because they sucked, it's because I'm crazy? I don't just have stage fright, it's part of my anxiety too?

Before I never talked about it because I figured that's just how everyone was. Everyone 'reflected' on their day as they laid in bed. Everyone had fears. Etc. Once I realized I had a legitimate problem and it wasn't okay, well that's just when it got even worse. I talked to a few friends, very few friends, about my anxiety. And had a very hard time putting it into words what it was like. I was asked once what it felt like. And they only thing I could think to say was that my stomach felt really funny, my chest was tight, and above all else I felt like I needed to run.

I still don't know exactly how to put my anxiety into words. So rather than try to explain what it feels like, I'm going to explain a few things that have set me off, just this past few days.

A few years back I had my first and only one night stand. Revenge sex actually. Travis had been cheating on me for like two years, I confronted him with the other woman, and when I left he yelled that he didn't care and I would just go home and cry alone all night anyway. So I said fuck. that. I called a friend and said "Hey, come over and have sex with me tonight." I know. What a hoebag. But he came over saying we would just 'hang out.' We were still friends after but eventually because travis and I had gotten back together and I told Travis what had happened I wasn't allowed to talk to him anymore.

We talked a few months back but after hanging out once and it not going so well we haven't talked since. Well he sent me a snapchat the other night. Immediately I'm filled with anxiety. Why is he messaging me? What does he want? Did I do something? Is he only messaging me because we're both single? He's hanging out with someone who was my best friend in highschool, are they talking about me? Did I get fatter since the last time we saw each other? What are they saying about me? What do I say back to him? He said he's drinking, is this my cue to ask if I can join? What if he asks me to join?! I don't want to join but I don't want to be rude. Gosh I just need an excuse to not hangout without seeming rude. What if he thinks I'm rude and never talks to me again?

And then it got even worse when I replied and he didn't reply back. Did I say something stupid? Are they laughing even more about me now. Omg, I called him an alcoholic maybe he hates me now. Omg, what if he knew I was joking and he thinks I came on too strong and thinks I like him now. Oh God, what have I done!

^This is a typical reaction of mine.

I'm talking to the guy I like and he doesn't text back until like three hours later. Now a very large part of my brain figures he is probably at work, The anxiety part of my is again, flipping the fuck out. He hates me. I'm annoying. I shouldn't have texted him, I should have waited for him to text me first. That was such a stupid text too. Omg, he's never going to want to talk again. When I see him at work I'm going to have to hide my face, maybe I should put my head on my desk and pretend to sleep, fuck, I can't sleep at work, I'll get fired. Omg, I'm getting fired. I'm getting fired and I'm going to lose my house! Omg...I'm losing my house and I'm going to have to live with my mom again. Omg, I can't live with my mom again, I already work with her, I need a breakkkkk from my mom.

Did I lock my door before I came up to bed? I locked my door...did I? I know I did...I checked three times...locked the screen door too....but....did I really?

Yesterday was one of the manager's birthday, big five-oh. We order lunch every Friday, and I've been rehearsing since last night how to tell him I was buying his lunch today. I was here for two hours before I finally called and said what I'd rehearsed in my mind for 16 hours, "What do you want and from where, I'm buying your birthday lunch today!"To which he declined anyway because he's making six figures and I'm definitely not. But literally, 16 hours planning to say I wanted to buy him lunch.

Police sirens, ambulance sirens, fire truck sirens, all make me panicked. I have this irrational fear that no matter what the circumstances are they're coming to me. I live on a very busy street and usually get police sirens drive by at least twice a day.

Getting dressed in the morning is a big task for me. It only takes me five minutes to do my make up and everything but deciding what to wear that doesn't look like shit is a huge struggle,

Am I sure I locked the door? Really sure? Absolutely positive. Fuck, I'd better go check...but uh, if someone's in here I don't want them to catch me...I locked the door.............but, I mean....did I?

I gave one of the guys a hug today, as I do everyday, and he was sitting down and he said I "buried his face in my boobs" and I've wanted to crawl under my desk ever since. It's been seven hours, and I'm still freaking out about the comment.

I have to wear shoes or slippers at night now because I have an irrational fear the mouse is going to run out and run over my feet and scratch my feet with his tiny claws and I'm going to get all kinds or horrible mouse diseases and die.

Speaking of diseases, I have skin cancer, a blood clot in my leg, a tumor in my brain, and I'm pretty sure I'm having a stroke right now. (All undiagnosed of course)

Six years ago on one of my first days at work I accidentally muttered 'shit' as I was hanging up the intercom and I still break out in the sweats whenever I think about, and I used an intercom all.the.time at this job so I think about it alot.

Did I lock the door? Did I really lock it.

I usually go to the grocery store with my mom. Today I'm going alone. Everyone is going to look at me and think I'm a loser. I hate going places alone. I hate being in big crowds. When people whisper or laugh I feel like it's always about me.

Literally about to have a conniption about football. Die hard Eagles fan and the game on Sunday was a nail biter. So much so that I took a variety of pictures through out the game demonstrating my many horrified, hysterical, over dramatic, and furious faces. Oh yes, I threw a broom too. And afterwards the stress gave me the biggest headache and a case of the shits (I shit you not) and then I was too wound up to sleep.

One of our salesguys had back surgery a few months ago and I ask on an almost daily basis when he's coming back. I want to make him a cake for when he gets back but I'm terrified that no one will tell me when he's coming back and I won't know until I get to work and boom, too late to make a cake.

Running into people in public. Like I can sit and talk with one of the salesmen here for an hour, but if we run into eachother at the grocery store....internal screaming.

Is the window locked too?

Wyatt's van was 8 minutes late dropping him off from school and I was literally shaking, I was two minutes away from calling the police because it was 8 minutes late. 8 minutes. It was only the second day of school, they're three years olds, probably still not on schedule yet with the van, I knew I was being crazy, but I was still ready to call the police.

Every night, and I do mean every night, I'm convinced someone is in my house. And every night, and I do mean every night, I can't sleep because I can't shut my mind off. The first day Wyatt learned how to open the door I didn't know he'd opened it. I just came into the kitchen and saw the door open. I then proceeded to stalk around my house with the biggest knife I owned trying to sneak up on the intruder before he could sneak up on me.


I overreact to simple things, over analyze other things, obsess over things, if someone says something rude to someone else I spend a large portion of my day feeling embarrassed for that person even if they don't even care. One of the things that helps with my anxiety is small places. Which is odd because cramped places set me off if I'm in them with other people or in them alone, but for some reason they center me when I'm having a really bad anxiety spell. So yes, I can sometimes be caught hiding in the bathtub with the curtain pulled closed, cramped into the kid's closet (as I don't have a closet I have a dresser.