Reasons why I am anxious.

Right now I have anxietied myself to near tears and lately apparently that’s what my brain is gonna do.

So yes, hello your fave Auntie has some major anxiety problems and many of them have been life long. I’m working on being more open about this because the things that can cause a panic attack or this kind of mid-level hard to breath I want to cry anxiety embarass me. The more shitty part of my brain says, what the whole fuck is wrong with you?

For instance, y’all know (or if you don’t now you do) that I am a writer. I had a piece published last week and it has legs and people have said really great things to me about it. Granted there has been some pushback, some pepe wielding dickholes have been trolling but that doesn’t bug me so much. What did make me have an actual panic attack was that some folks said SUPER nice things and yeah.

Sometimes   frequently, when great or good things happen to me I panic. Compliment? Panic. Someone I admire says something low key praise like, lost shit. Offered an opportunity? FREAK OUT.

This flavor of anxiety almost always elicits a fear response. Bug eyes, sweating, fight or flight. Terror. I start sweating, I might shake. I don’t cry normally but I am scared as fuck.

Why?

I don’t fucking know.

My brain is full of fuck.

Other reasons I’m anxious today:

  • I woke up
  • My bus was late
  • I was late for work
  • I can’t find a dance class I can afford
  • I really need new underwear
  • I have to finish a new piece.
  • I didn’t make ALL the blog posts I wanted to.
  • I’m kind of overdressed for the weather.
  • I wrote some new poems.
  • I am not sure what si

Um along with other things this is what’s on the hamster wheel of my brain.

The worst thing about the way I experience anxiety is that it exacerbates my fatigue problems. Am I exhausted because I slept like shit or because I’ve been so anxious all day I’ve felt like I might shit my pants.

I can hear my brain grinding away and I have shit to do. I have art to make. I am tired of my own crazy* hamster wheel brain that won’t just let me live.

A lot of me wants to battle this. A lot of me wants to deny it, stonewall it and power through because that is how I learned to deal with my mental illness from a young age. I wasn’t depressed, I was whiny. I wasn’t having problems, I was just not pulling my bootstraps hard enough.

I don’t want to do that anymore.

I also don’t want to just be a shitty pants, sobbing mess.

It is a fine line.

Some of how my life works requires that I don’t express outwardly how I’m feeling inside. I can’t sit on the floor at work ugly crying. I can’t throw myself on the ground in public.

This coupled with being struck with a 6 day cluster headache attack that I worked through 5 days of has made me not great.

I’m recovering but y’all, shit has been fuckin rough.

And I’m not trying to push myself to work beyond my limits so blogging is not gonna be as regular as I hoped it to be.

I’m working on it.

Also my friend Katie has a podcast and if you want to hear some folks talk about how this shit feels, listen. It is great.

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About Shannon Barber

I am a strange little woman who likes pie.
This entry was posted in mental health, Personal. Bookmark the permalink.

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