The last 5 days have been almost unbearable. I honest to goodness and in all seriousness thought that maybe I was finally losing my mind for good.
There was this mounting sense of anxiety building up in me like an anaconda wrapping itself around my stomach.
Is this it?
Is this what going crazy feels like?
Thousands of deep cleansing breaths and the illegal downloading of about 12 different relaxation CDs later I still felt manic. But not in a good and exploitable way.
*Note – Lifescapes’ Inner Peace is a pretty great nap soundtrack but a lot of those relaxation CD’s are really annoying and anxiety inducing.
What’s wrong with me?
Let’s see… I have a job where I spend all day taking care of people who are all about them (and rightfully so – they’re all pregnant or living with newborn babies)
I come home exhausted to my naturally narcissistic adolescent daughters and everything that entails.
And my poor dog who is hemorrhaging for no apparent reason, which is stopping the vet from proceeding with the over $1500.00 (that I don’t have) surgery she needs to remove the giant mass that is obstructing her bowels.
My boyfriend is a DJ (’nuff said)
I am completely bankrupt. Emotionally, physically, financially.
Who is taking care of me?
The dog licks my toe. I recoil in repulsion.
That’s not what I meant.
But thanks Darla.
I can’t think straight.
I can’t sleep right.
I feel the panic attacks creeping back into my life and I growl menacingly at them.
We’re not going back there.
Maybe I need exercise. Exercise is great for anxiety!
But I am exercising! I’m exercising almost every day!
Oh my god. I’m getting too much exercise. That must be it.
i should stop exercising and start eating french fries and onion rings every hour on the hour to slow down my metabolism and put my body and mind into a virtual coma – thus diminishing all excess energy and…
Okay. Let’s not go in with “what’s wrong with me”
Let’s try “What do I need?”
The knot loosens ever so slightly.
The muscles in my throat ease up a little.
1) A vacation
2) My dog not to be sick
3) My kids to get jobs
4) A productive creative outlet
How many of these things can I actively control?
Heart starts racing. Palms start sweating.
The creative outlet one. I can control that one.
Help me! I beg François.
He tells me to write a song about knocking on doors and use only the percussive sound of knocking on my guitar as accompaniment.
I agree to set small achievable creative goals. One a day. I have no idea what they will be or how I will calm down enough to focus on them.
In the meantime if I don’t answer the phone or the door for the next week. Don’t be alarmed. I’m in the studio knocking on my guitar.
I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I always land on my aching blistered feet.
Don’t get me wrong, donations in the form of wine, Lorazepam and/or gift certificates for the veterinary office on the corner will be embraced with enthusiasm and can be left on the front door step at any hour.