May 1st already?
One third of 2012 is gone - when did that happen?
I guess I'm just in a dip of mood lately. I still feel crappy. I have some terrible stress and anxiety boiling right under the surface, and it's wearing me out. I'm waiting for something to happen and it to pop, for the tension in the wire to snap, for something to happen. My mind is just going in circles, like it's looking for things to worry about, and all I can do is wait it out. How much of my life is wasted waiting though? It's very frustrating. I feel like time is a wall that is slowly tilting towards me, the crest of a wave starting to arch over my head. How long before it crashes down in a swell and gush of panic? Will it even happen? Or will it eventually break up of it's own accord, melting and oozing it's way back beneath the surface of my outwardly calm exterior? My anxiety is like the nameless monster that lives under the bed. You don't know why it's there, or what you did to summon it, but you know it's there waiting nonetheless. Waiting for an unprotected foot to slide from your bed to the floor while you slumber away, focused on other things. And by the time you realize what's happening, it's too late, and all the kicking and screaming will do you no good, because you're already in it's grasp.
My rational brain fights this so hard. I think there is an internal dialogue or debate forum that I may not even be aware of somewhere where my sane, rational brain tries to take control and talk my panic ridden self down. Unfortunately, I don't think the two ever come to a compromise. My intelligent, linear, powerful upper brain is no competition when pitted against my damaged and broken lizard brain that sits hiding in a corner, afraid of things that aren't there and have no name. So I wait while the anxiety bubbles below the surface, because that is all I can to.
I know it sounds depressing, but really, it's not. I don't feel sad, or even that bad. I can focus to some extent on doing things that absorb my attention and let me immerse myself in them - reading, playing WoW, etc, but every once in a while my brain will raise it's head like a dog on a scent, and remind me in no uncertain terms that I should be worried/afraid/panicked/scared RIGHT THIS INSTANT. Then I sit calmly, wait for the moment to pass, for my heart rate to drop back to normal and my palms to stop tingling, then go back to whatever I was doing. But as I sit here, I can feel the tenseness in my muscles, the soreness in my temples, and the fatigue that waging this private internal battle costs me. Anything that requires my complete concentration, like writing papers, taking notes, or focusing on schoolwork is too much, and allows the panic more opportunities to announce it's presence. Anything that is not structured or interesting enough, like watching TV, allows my brain to wander, and I find myself dwelling on it more then, chasing my tail in my thoughts, spiraling around the fear. My patience wears thin with this game.
If it wasn't pointless, if it had some sort of focus, something I could tackle, address, or argue with myself about, it would be different. I think most of what I hate is that I know there is no real reason for it. It just is. It's ridiculous.
I know everyone and their mom (ha ha) has a list of mental issues a mile long now. Everyone is depressed, or bi-polar, or has anxiety, or a basket full or other things wrong with them. I find it amazing that so many of them seem to be able to function just fine, while something as simple as 'worry' crushes my soul under it's heal.
I guess I'm just in a dip of mood lately. I still feel crappy. I have some terrible stress and anxiety boiling right under the surface, and it's wearing me out. I'm waiting for something to happen and it to pop, for the tension in the wire to snap, for something to happen. My mind is just going in circles, like it's looking for things to worry about, and all I can do is wait it out. How much of my life is wasted waiting though? It's very frustrating. I feel like time is a wall that is slowly tilting towards me, the crest of a wave starting to arch over my head. How long before it crashes down in a swell and gush of panic? Will it even happen? Or will it eventually break up of it's own accord, melting and oozing it's way back beneath the surface of my outwardly calm exterior? My anxiety is like the nameless monster that lives under the bed. You don't know why it's there, or what you did to summon it, but you know it's there waiting nonetheless. Waiting for an unprotected foot to slide from your bed to the floor while you slumber away, focused on other things. And by the time you realize what's happening, it's too late, and all the kicking and screaming will do you no good, because you're already in it's grasp.
My rational brain fights this so hard. I think there is an internal dialogue or debate forum that I may not even be aware of somewhere where my sane, rational brain tries to take control and talk my panic ridden self down. Unfortunately, I don't think the two ever come to a compromise. My intelligent, linear, powerful upper brain is no competition when pitted against my damaged and broken lizard brain that sits hiding in a corner, afraid of things that aren't there and have no name. So I wait while the anxiety bubbles below the surface, because that is all I can to.
I know it sounds depressing, but really, it's not. I don't feel sad, or even that bad. I can focus to some extent on doing things that absorb my attention and let me immerse myself in them - reading, playing WoW, etc, but every once in a while my brain will raise it's head like a dog on a scent, and remind me in no uncertain terms that I should be worried/afraid/panicked/scared RIGHT THIS INSTANT. Then I sit calmly, wait for the moment to pass, for my heart rate to drop back to normal and my palms to stop tingling, then go back to whatever I was doing. But as I sit here, I can feel the tenseness in my muscles, the soreness in my temples, and the fatigue that waging this private internal battle costs me. Anything that requires my complete concentration, like writing papers, taking notes, or focusing on schoolwork is too much, and allows the panic more opportunities to announce it's presence. Anything that is not structured or interesting enough, like watching TV, allows my brain to wander, and I find myself dwelling on it more then, chasing my tail in my thoughts, spiraling around the fear. My patience wears thin with this game.
If it wasn't pointless, if it had some sort of focus, something I could tackle, address, or argue with myself about, it would be different. I think most of what I hate is that I know there is no real reason for it. It just is. It's ridiculous.
I know everyone and their mom (ha ha) has a list of mental issues a mile long now. Everyone is depressed, or bi-polar, or has anxiety, or a basket full or other things wrong with them. I find it amazing that so many of them seem to be able to function just fine, while something as simple as 'worry' crushes my soul under it's heal.