Anxiety Part 1 of 100000
I’ve tried pretty hard to be friends with my “limitations”. My anger has been used to fuel change. Addiction has been redirected to obsessive healthy habits and routine. I am selfish and stubborn, and have been labeled bossy, controlling or bratty, but my unwavering determination has brought me the best things I have in my life.
But anxiety and I, we are not chill. She’s not even my frenemy. She’s that one that shows up unannounced with all her shit and won’t leave. She’ll steal your clothes. Eat your groceries. Show up drunk in the middle of the day and terrorize your cats.
I never know what will trigger these uncontrollable responses within my body. One moment I’m fine and laughing and the next I am in tears on the floor yelling about a kitchen utensil being out of place. This is when my old friend anger joins in on the fun and I get the spins and suddenly I’m a raging disaster of accusations, assumptions and hyperventilation.
My outbursts have been around since I was a kid, worsened as a teenager and turned to panic within the last few years. There are a lot of factors that go into why and how I react the way I do, most of which I’m trying to work through and still don’t fully understand. A lot of it past traumas and unresolved issues. A lot of it is just me.
On Tuesday I was fine. Tired and a little irritated for no reason, but overall good. I spent the day at the river with my boyfriend and my brother. I enjoyed the heat and the cold water and spending time with people I love.
Later that night, I snapped. I couldn’t handle that both restaurants I wanted to eat at that night closed at 8. It was 7:45 when we were trying to find something to eat, and I was losing it a little bit. My diet is restricted right now, and it’s hard enough to find something I feel like eating.
I completely shut down. I didn’t want to go anywhere else. i didn’t want to go to the grocery store to get food to make (oh my god why are you SO LAZY MAYA). I just wanted to eat the thing I set my mind on and I did not like that they were closing and suddenly everything felt very small and I got upset and started crying.
My boyfriend took me to get Mexican food and I choked up while ordering a taco. When it finally came I didn’t even want to eat it.
That’s how I know my anxiety is at an all time high. I didn’t even want to eat a fucking taco.
I ended up not watching the fireworks. Instead I sat in my boyfriends car outside my house for 30 minutes crying at every nice thing he was saying as he desperately tried to calm me down. I was upset because I was tired and hot and hungry and the beginning pops of fireworks were making my heart race. I didn’t want to go to work the next day. I didn’t want to be home. I didn’t want to sleep at his house, I didn’t want to eat or drink anything, I didn’t want to talk but I didn’t like the silence. I felt my whole body start to twitch and ache, my hands were shaking and my heart pushed hard against my chest as my eyes watered.
He brought me inside. I stood around not knowing what to do as he waited for me to find something, anything that I wanted. But I paced as I tried to ward off the bursts of electricity pulsing through my body, that uncomfortable jolt preventing any logical thought.
It is the hardest thing to try to explain anxiety to a person who has never experienced it. My sweet boyfriend, who has stood by me through every outburst and hateful thing I’ve done or said, just wants to help me feel better. He wants to understand but can’t.
How do you explain that constant fear, that certainty of doom? The uncontrollable shaking in your bones, rapid breath, self hatred and feeling so uncomfortable in your body you want to scream. You can imagine it, but if you haven’t been there, it’s difficult to comprehend why someone can’t just calm down.
I don’t even understand anxiety most of the time. How she creeps in behind corners and in the middle of the night, sometimes waking me up out of a dead sleep. I’ll be dreaming a precious little dream and suddenly BOOM I’m having heart palpitations and locking myself in the bathroom so I can lie down on the cool floor and try to convince myself I’m not dying.
I haven’t mastered the ability to force myself to believe the worst isn’t happening all the time, that the bottom won’t drop out of everything I love, that I am worthy of good things and that even if bad things happen I will survive. Because I have survived, some bad things, and I’m still here. Yet somehow I have a consistent knot in the pit of my stomach, always on alert, always waiting to be let down.
Here’s what frustrated me the most about that night — I was completely aware of how I was feeling and could not do anything about it. Normally I just let go and spin out of control only to snap back hours later and feel as if I have amnesia. But this time, I was fairly calm and just sat there in complete pain, paralyzed by fear.
I couldn’t stop it. I could feel it coming, and I couldn’t change it.
It’s really terrifying to know that you do not have control over what your body does sometimes, and it will react however it sees fit.
And no matter how much yoga you do, or circular breathing, or meditation, therapy, reading, running, healthy eating, positive thinking, crafting, or writing -you’re still that weird girl crying at a restaurant while staring at her taco.
