A Short Narrative Of What Happens In My Head

This all started with a conversation with someone about a router. Like, a normal everyday conversation that no one else would act like a freak about except I’m broken, so it totally goes sideways fast.

How Someone Else made me feel like my anxiety disorder is a selfish endeavor on my part.

This is a script of what happened in my head:

About the router: It’s fine as it is and I’ll stop complaining about it.

And you know how sometimes you just can’t deal with things because it all seems overwhelming and too hard and so you focus instead on something that doesn’t really matter because it seems like a better thing to focus your attention and limited energy and brain power on. But then it’s like you make other people annoyed by focusing on just one goddamn thing you feel like you can handle because it’s not that IMPORTANT, ME, DAMN. And so then you just have to let that go and then your brain is like “And that’s what happens when you try to mentally best your anxiety, bitch. You: 0 Anxiety: 5,000,000” Which is how you end up feeling like there’s a goddamn bear trying to claw your chest apart and you’re afraid and having a hard time breathing and you want to cry but if you start to cry then you’ll end up under your desk and you can’t go under your desk because you have to pick up your kid and drive home and so you have to find something that will stave off anxiety long enough to get home. And then you get home and you crawl onto the bed and get underneath your covers because even though you really want to get in your closet you already suspect that you’re a fairly shitty parent anyway for not being able to function but at least being in bed is slightly more normal than the closet. And then Anxiety is all, “And now it’s a mother fucking party!” and you’d vomit from the overwhelming fear that has no real definition, but then you know you can’t get up so then you’d probably choke on vomit and die and then everyone would think you’d had a hidden drinking problem and they’d be all, “It’s so sad, we never even suspected.” and my ghost would be screaming at them like, “I HAD A MENTAL DISORDER, I DID NOT EVEN DRINK. THIS IS SO FUCKED UP.” But then they couldn’t even hear me because I was DEAD. And I’d be shouting into nothingness and that would be when I realized that I can’t even be normal in DEATH, and so, I don’t vomit.

Which is why I’m sorry I was bratty about the stupid internet router.

And also why I’m sorry I didn’t go to the bathroom before I crawled into bed.

Then the someone else replied that he totally understands because he’s overwhelmed too and so you just say fuck it and wallow in your impending doom alone because IT IS INCONSIDERATE TO BOTHER HIM WHEN HE IS OVERWHELMED.