Supermax Anxiety

For me, anxiety disorder is a lot like being locked down in a supermax prison. The brief respites of calm are simply time out in the yard. Rest of the time, I’m locked in a room with the anxiety and it’s all I can do not to climb walls and claw at my own flesh. They say anxiety isn’t going to kill you, but sometimes…It makes you question just how tenuous your sanity is.

Today was case in point. Not as awful as yesterday, but the anxiety (combined with a mild med induced hypomanic buzz) had me crawling out of my skin. Or my skeleton was trying to escape my skin, IDK. It was bad. The maintenance people were outside using saws and shit, making horrendous noise, pounding nails into stuff, fixing up one of the places…And of course, panxiety barged in my door unannounced. All but pulled up a chair, crossed its arms and smugly said, “Ha, I’m here and there’s not a damn thing you can do about! Hey, did you hear that? Maybe one of maintenance men needs to come inside…”

Never mind logic or the fact that I still haven’t worked up the courage to deal with the assfuckery that is the landlord. Panxiety is a manipulative distorting bitch and it just sent me further down the rabbit hole. Because while the house is better, maybe biohazard one…I can’t keep up to a level others would consider “clean”. I don’t want anyone in my safe bubble, sending in their bad vibes and bad juju, so even the tiny change of being invaded…sends me off the deep end.

Per usual it got worse the closer it came to pick up time for my spawn.

I am sure I could write much more, but I have an earache and I am HOPING the double dose of Restoril will take my to sleepy town soon. My entire body feels bruised and aches. My gums even hurt. My fucking tongue is sore. Oh, and my voice keeps going in and out.

Seriously, though…I’d like to see the court documents stating the charges which landed me in this supermax prison of anxiety. I WANT OUT.

Sadly no file baked into a cake will be break out of this shithole prison.

Like the battery bunny, my anxiety keeps going and going and going…

Instead of a cute bunny playing a drum, it’s a six foot tall bunny cross bred with a sadistic clown and they play musical neuroses with me.

I am so donating this brain to science upon my demise. It’s done me little good, maybe studying it could help make some sort of progress the anxiety/bipolar area.

Or some creepy necrophile will keep it in a jar on his desk and do disturbing things to it at night.

Long as it ain’t in my skull anymore…Winner, winner, chicken dinner.


11 Responses to “Supermax Anxiety”

  1. This is a perfect analogy. I love it. I hate that you are experiencing this level of anxiety on a constant basis. My “baseline” is anxiety, but nothing like you are experiencing. But, I have been there. There is nowhere that is far enough away from the triggers.

    I hope that you got some decent sleep.

  2. If my brain hasn’t been too fogged over by years of smoking herb, I think the sensation of crawling out of my skin aka Hellbound: Hellraiser II is what started me smoking in the first place.

    Still trying to win that lotto jackpot, daughter….

    • Well, as long as you’re not in my state, you have a chance at that lottery thing. This place is so broke they have been sending winners and “IOU”, literally.

      Is it any wonder I want out of this sarcophagus? They’ll be selling our organs on the black market to make next year’s budget! 😉

      On Thu, Oct 22, 2015 at 7:58 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


  3. Go to the shelf, grab dictionary, open to page “anx”, scroll down to ” anxiety* ~ note picture of ME! **OR GOOGLE IT. Smoked weed for several decades, at started increasing anxiety, panic attacks & my paranoia

  4. Do you want me to call slumlord? I can be very sweet and nice when need be 🙂
    You are right about supermax prison of anxiety. I’m tired of my cell-but at least our cell lock is fun

    • Calling the landlord does shit, he will just find a reason to evict anyone who complains. My dad’s neighbor was a maintenance guy here for a few months (he actually didn’t fuck things up, so they fired him, of course) and he quote the landlord as saying: “Those people (at the trailer park) have no place else to go, no one else will take them with their bad credit and references so anything I don’t have to fix by law…I’m not going to.”
      And truth be told, I am afraid if I complain too loud some city official might deem this place unsafe and we’d get tossed in the street.
      Oh, how I love life’s bondage games,ball gagged by poverty, tied down by bipolar, flogged by anxiety…Fifty shades of kill me now.


    Supermax Anxiety | Take a Ride on My Mood Swing

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