#it's not her fault she has anxiety and also is allergic to deodorant

[rockrosethistle]

every time Ruth Fleming is murdered I cry for six hours straight

[sunshine-thisway]

Breaking Point.

Yesterday was my 25th birthday. In the week leading up to it, I hit a breaking point emotionally. All of the sudden, I realized my anxiety was all-consuming. It was scary and hard and real. This post was a long time in the making. 

I’d like to believe they won’t all be this long but here we are. 

{Some General Background}

I have been really struggling with my health lately. 

I hate how much is wrong with my body. I feel out of control, useless, and a mess. Don’t even get me started on my concerns about the future (but also see the next section about anxiety lmao). I hate how many medicines I’m on. I feel like I can’t do anything without being exhausted or tired or sore or making my joints hurt. I don’t drink anymore. I don’t do anything extra. I just want to be a healthy 25 year old. I want to lose weight and not be ashamed about my health or my body (even though I’m literally doing everything I can right now - without going full on eating-disorder-overboard). I’m thankful I don’t struggle with that anymore. But I’m so sick of being sick. 

{Some Background on the Anxiety}

I’ve had anxiety for as long as I can remember. My parents have it, my mom is on medicine for her OCD. I realized about 12 months ago that I had OCD “tendencies” (which is what you call it when you’re still in early stages....or denial). I started seeing a therapist, basically attributed it to the stress of grad school and stopped going after she basically told me that “I had all the tools, I just needed to use them.” I didn’t (and still don’t) disagree with her- at that time I had what I needed. I got more sleep, better physical activity, started meditating, got back into church...and for a while I felt better. 

Fast forward to this year and I honestly don’t know how I ignored it for so long. Some of the things my anxiety makes me do:

- Feel rushed and panicked almost every minute of everyday

- Question simple expectations and conversations people have had for/with me constantly 

- Question if I am living in the same reality as everyone else...like what if I just think I’m supposed to be on this side of the highway but I’m wrong and I’m going to cause an accident? Or what if I think I’m supposed to be at work at this date or time but really its the wrong day and I was supposed to show up hours ago?

- Check under my bed, in my closet, and out my window every time I get into bed (even after coming back from the bathroom)...not sure what for but it has to be done. Sometimes twice. 

- Check under my sheets for snakes 2-3 times. Not that I’ve ever found one in my 3rd story apartment but hey, the anxiety wants what it wants. 

- Park in certain spots or open/close containers again (especially my unmarked deodorant cap...there aren’t even markings on it but 90% of the time it just feels wrong)

- Check and re-check alarms, locks, work documentation, work schedules, emails, text messages because what if I misunderstood?

- Spend way too much time thinking about the death of my (living) family, how I’ve let them down, how I’m a bad person, and how I’m too much and not enough all at the same time. 

Usually, I know I’m doing it. Usually, I know I’m rushed/panicked/anxious/worried. Usually. But sometimes I don’t. 

{And Back to This Week}

This week, that all changed. Everything I was doing became so painstakingly obvious and I ran into it like a brick wall. I am e x h a u s t e d. 

This week consisted of: 

- sinus infection (antibiotic) 

- adjusting to my first “real” week as an OT (read: anxiety)

- SCARY allergic reaction (didn’t need epi, but it was close...probably actually needed the epi). Not to downplay actual PTSD but I’m convinced half of this week stemmed from this event alone. I could still probably cry just thinking about it. 

- caught a virus (with a whole ass cough, congestion, sore throat, loss of voice, you name it) 

- 3+ panic attacks with crying until at least midnight

- Addy having to physically sleep in my bed with me all week because I couldn’t calm down or even fathom being all by myself even to sleep 

The only reason I made it through the week was because Addy dragged (drug?) me through it. Nothing seemed worth it and nothing seemed possible. 

{The Turning Point}

At some point Monday night, I said it in passing. “Maybe I need anxiety medicine.” - the second I said it, I felt like the world was lift of my shoulders. It started the first of many emotional breakdowns...I felt so conflicted. I don’t want more medicine. I don’t want another diagnosis. But I want to feel better. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I don’t want to waste my precious time and energy catering to my anxiety. I want to relax. 

And then I had a second thought. What if the anxiety medicine does make me healthier? 

What if I could finally lose weight because I don’t feel compelled to stress eat? 

What if my GI issues decreased because I wasn’t freaking out 24/7? What if I could stop my GI medicine all together. 

What if my joints actually would hurt less with the decrease in stress?

What if I could utilize all of my anxious energy into productive, healthy activities?

And yes, all of those questions were exactly one thought. Anxiety will do that to ya. 

But of course with the good also came the bad; 

What if I’m not as productive or outgoing without this chemical imbalance? 

What if I’m really as lazy and pathetic as I so often feel I am?

What if my anxiety if making me better...or enough? 

Suddenly, I was scared to lose it. I found myself in my own sick solo version of Stockholm syndrome. It seemed easier to not mess with the unknown. Not have another diagnosis. Not have another problem. 

But this is a real medical problem. This isn’t my fault. It may have taken me a full week to accept that fact but I did it. 

It’s going to be a long road and my anxiety won’t be gone tomorrow when I wake up or maybe even three months from now. But things will get better.

And I can’t wait to see the sunshine at the end of the tunnel. 

[pixelated-glitter]

i just want her to have a happy ending for once

i may explode

jhhkfjsdl :((

every time Ruth Fleming is murdered I cry for six hours straight