Anxiety for Days

Can’t hack it like I should be able to.  Can’t keep the racing thoughts and panic down.  Can’t stop the steady thrum of tension bubbling beneath my skin.

Wind and rain outside tell my brain that danger is imminent, even though there’s nothing to fear now. All kinds of stimuli overwhelm me.  Broken things, broken brain.

Poor, sad, broken brain.  I woke up nervous, shaky.  I felt terrified of basically everything except maybe Robit.  Increased chronic pain is contributing to my overall sense of misery.

What’s better? Is it better to be a neurotic mess, to be afraid of every moment that will come? To be paralyzed with uncertainty and the knowledge that you’re disapointing your loved ones?

Is it better to be alert, awake, and wired?  And terrified?  Is it better?

Better than what?  The deep chasm of heartache and misery that waits with bated breath every moment of every day.  Depression lingers, caressing me in my dreams, tangled with trauma and memories and fear.  I don’t want to be suicidally depressed again. I’m tired.  Is this better?

The year that I fight it with all of my might I am a total wreck and want to crawl under the carpet or a hole or anywhere I can be small and unseen. Anxiety makes me paranoid and there is so much I can get done when I don’t feel anxious but pain tells me something is wrong and anxiety makes it harder to tell my brain that no, nothing is wrong just in pain from fibro but anxiety says WHOOOOOAAAAA hold on pain is happening we should be really concerned and I have to be like, Listen anxiety, I don’t have time for you or your bullshit. I’ve got things to do. And anxiety is like, “Seriously, everything is terrible right now.”

I’m too anxious to be depressed right now. Too anxious to feel much of anything except anxiety.  Too freaked out by life to enjoy it at all.

Too this too that too much too fast.

I’ve always been “too _______” something. Too this too that too much too fast. Too whatever. I am perpetually too whatever.

*hides behind a half smile and colorful clothes*

Don’t see me, just see what I tell  you to see. It’s better that way.



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