Anyone Else Have This Problem?
I've decided to speak entirely in italics today, except when I write. I will write in standard.
Have had a rocky two weeks - or maybe one week, I can't tell how long i am suffering. Days? Weeks? Years? Very anxiety-laden, for unknown reasons will likely hash out in therapy Thursday. Still get the inkling it is purely chemical - I can only tell because my sanity feels like an apple on top of a pin, which is wobbly at best - a stiff breeze would send me to the inpatient mental facility down the street. I am but mad when the wind blows north by northwest. And all that. If it's circumstantial I can usually control it and am fine the next day.
In Funny Fobias news, Bouncing ball phobia has relaxed considerably since moving to Austin, but has been heartily replaced by a pill phobia. I am afraid of even vitamins, let alone all those dubious herbal remedies people are always popping. Which frustrates me to no end when people say "oh you can totally alleviate your anxiety with Evening Primrose Oil or Eye of Newt or whatever -- and I'm thinking, "yes, or it could push me completely over the edge and I could disappear completely."
Thus the current conundrun: my dermatologist wants to put me on Accutane because nothing else seems to make a dent in my lousy skin. Adult acne, as I understand it, is the tuberculosis of our generation -- brought on by environmental toxicity and increased stress levels in our society, it's kind of the new "1 in 5 people have it." However, I keep reading that Accutane may cause depression, nay even suicidal tendencies. Despite the dubiousness of FDA precautionary warnings, even just reading about this made me go into a week-long anxiety attack, so I think actually taking the stuff might be a bad idea, even though I took it in my early 20s and was no more depressed than usual. I just don't trust my brain. I can't drink a teaspoon of caffeine, can't even have a lot of sugar, can't get very buzzed on alcohol. Apparently, body and mind wish to be "healthy." Whatever. Stupid body and mind.
I had this nihilist friend once who simplified every problem in one's life to their fear of mortality. Of disappearing, of the Void. I suppose I am victim of this same fear, although less of a physical death than a mental one - that I could still go walking and talking through this life, vaguely aware that the hopes and dreams and joys of Erin are out of reach, that a thick layer of static lies between me and navigating successfully through this world. That people will shy away from me as I twitch and shuffle in my bathrobe, a ruined mind clinging to the bars of my windows. Once so full of strength and humor and charm and intelligence - I will roam the ravaged avenues of my affliction, weeping for something I cannot remember having in the first place.
Then again, maybe I just think too much.
Have had a rocky two weeks - or maybe one week, I can't tell how long i am suffering. Days? Weeks? Years? Very anxiety-laden, for unknown reasons will likely hash out in therapy Thursday. Still get the inkling it is purely chemical - I can only tell because my sanity feels like an apple on top of a pin, which is wobbly at best - a stiff breeze would send me to the inpatient mental facility down the street. I am but mad when the wind blows north by northwest. And all that. If it's circumstantial I can usually control it and am fine the next day.
In Funny Fobias news, Bouncing ball phobia has relaxed considerably since moving to Austin, but has been heartily replaced by a pill phobia. I am afraid of even vitamins, let alone all those dubious herbal remedies people are always popping. Which frustrates me to no end when people say "oh you can totally alleviate your anxiety with Evening Primrose Oil or Eye of Newt or whatever -- and I'm thinking, "yes, or it could push me completely over the edge and I could disappear completely."
Thus the current conundrun: my dermatologist wants to put me on Accutane because nothing else seems to make a dent in my lousy skin. Adult acne, as I understand it, is the tuberculosis of our generation -- brought on by environmental toxicity and increased stress levels in our society, it's kind of the new "1 in 5 people have it." However, I keep reading that Accutane may cause depression, nay even suicidal tendencies. Despite the dubiousness of FDA precautionary warnings, even just reading about this made me go into a week-long anxiety attack, so I think actually taking the stuff might be a bad idea, even though I took it in my early 20s and was no more depressed than usual. I just don't trust my brain. I can't drink a teaspoon of caffeine, can't even have a lot of sugar, can't get very buzzed on alcohol. Apparently, body and mind wish to be "healthy." Whatever. Stupid body and mind.
I had this nihilist friend once who simplified every problem in one's life to their fear of mortality. Of disappearing, of the Void. I suppose I am victim of this same fear, although less of a physical death than a mental one - that I could still go walking and talking through this life, vaguely aware that the hopes and dreams and joys of Erin are out of reach, that a thick layer of static lies between me and navigating successfully through this world. That people will shy away from me as I twitch and shuffle in my bathrobe, a ruined mind clinging to the bars of my windows. Once so full of strength and humor and charm and intelligence - I will roam the ravaged avenues of my affliction, weeping for something I cannot remember having in the first place.
Then again, maybe I just think too much.