Under Siege- Anxiety

Oh, yes, it’s that lovely time of my crazy cycle where my anxiety skyrockets. Phone calls, texts. IGNORED. I cannot cope at this particular moment. But then I sit here drowning in guilt for not being able to suck it up and just deal. And since it’s just a so called friend calling wanting me to drop everything to amuse him in his boredom, I should be allowed to be guilt free for nursing my bucket of crazy. But nooo, even that causes anxiety. And I am wondering if it’s tied to the Latuda which I took an hour ago and not even the Xanax is dulling the panic so maybe the insert was right and it is heightening my anxiety.
I don’t even fucking know.

The city checks the storm alarm at the beginning of every month.
Today it goes off and it seems louder than usual, seems to last longer. It’s perfectly sunny and clear out and my panicked ass is on Google, checking current weather conditions for some sort of tornado alert. Before the result even comes up, I am freaking out, thinking, I need to go get my kid. No, wait, they have a safe space for the kids, l live in a damned trailer…
Why oh why does it have to be the crazy panic? The “out of control logic can fuck off” panic that I nor meds can reason with?

And I’ve had it up to here with all the positive thought bullshit. I can no more talk myself out of these bad bouts than one can talk themselves out of the flu and avoid puking. They don’t get shit for being weak, they don’t have to feel guilty.
It’s not that I hate my life, or even myself.
I hate mental illness with every fiber of every being on the goddamn planet.
No one should have to live this way and yet, so many of us do.
I try to take comfort in knowing I’m not alone and yet when it comes to the people around…I’m less than alone. The only support I have is on the internet, which of course I am told is wrong because I’m being anti social and self isolating rather than pursuing a support system.
Yeah, what I need support for is the one thing people dismiss.
“Hi, my name is Niki and I am pretty sure the world is out to get me today and I am terrified like Freddy Kruger is chasing me, wanna be my friend?”

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
The mood levels, the anxiety goes up.
The anxiety levels, the mood goes to shit.
And meanwhile I am in this guilt ridden panic stricken limbo.
And I shouldn’t have to be, especially with a friend, who should be decent enough to understand mental health days are not optional, they are as mandatory as needing to use the bathroom. Biological function, mental misfires…It’s just as legit.
Besides which it pisses me off to be expected to drop everything and be on call for someone who completely uses me then blows me off then reappears when he’s bored and wants entertained. Bullfuckingshit.
Just because he’s been “good” to me as far as feeding my cigarette and Mangorita addictions, and yeah, he fixes my car…
What happened to being a friend, not just someone with some extra money to blow? What happened to a comforting hug or shoulder squeeze or shutting the fuck up and LISTENING? Or letting someone rant or cry if it’s what they need at the time. Or just not being a total shitheel who’s so narcissistic they think others are there for their useage only.
I’m spiraling out of control here. Panic does that to a person.
But I am scared of nothing, and the physical symptoms are there, and the guilt is strangling me and I am fucking pissed off, too. My addictions get fed with this friendship with R and yet my soul is fucking starving to death because it gets nothing.
I am supposed to accept “that’s just all he’s willing to give, you won’t get what you need from this friendship.”
I am not wrong to want to get what I give.
And if this is what I am reduced to, I’d rather have no friends.
Clown shoes.
I will come out of it but for now…anxiety has abducted me, and has me tied to a chair in a dungeon of dank darkness and I am prisoner.

If that’s insanity, then I guess I am insane in the membrane.
(God I hate that fucking song)
((How many blasphemies did I just commit in that one sentence?))
((((Riiight, I don’t mean to offend others but I also don’t subscribe to the “bad words will make you rot in hell” theory. I am already rotting in hell, in my 42nd year now, and it’s called mental ass trash fucking illness.))))

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: