Anxiety. It resides, in me.
it's social sometimes. It's really awkward when it's social, I hate it. It happens particularly when I'm horrified about a word that came out of my mouth, that I'm sure I mispronounced. And the anx tells me that everyone knows. Or I say something, and it just comes out weird. And everyone looks. The Antidote: Yes, No, Smile, Nod.
but that's just the mental anx. it sucks, but it's not like the physical.
cause sometimes the anx is extreme pressure, in my chest. Pressure caused because my blood is pumping faster than my heart can go, and my body feels like it's going to explode from the heat, of trying to keep up. And then my arms go numb.
sometimes it's in my throat. like it is right now. Just a slight yet mighty pulsing, in my throat. I find myself trying to swallow it down. Or blow it out, in a deep, from the gut, blow. Sometimes those blows give a few seconds of relief. But as soon as it's all out.. the pulsing is still there, I can still feel it.
occasionally it will hit my stomach, and waves of wanting to vomit bellow through me. I never do though. I never do actually get sick. But I think I will.
the absolute worst of it, when it hits really hard, is when I have choices and decisions at hand, and my mind won't stop racing, and I get overwhelmed, and the physical elements start kicking into gear and then ~ all of me goes numb. Like zombie numb. And I just have to sleep. To shut it down. And escape it.
it's not too often that that happens. But it does. From time to time. It happened yesterday, this past Sunday.. and you want to know what drives me the most batty about it?? It happens over good things, and bad things. It doesn't discriminate, dammit! It's the absolute WORST when ~ like right now ~ I'm happy, life is super good, exciting things are happening! and this damn anxiety just attacks me. I just hate how it loves me.
|me. right now, as I type. with my pulsing throat. :)|
and, yes, I have tried a pill. A few years ago I did, for about a year. And it helped. But it also numbed, and I didn't like that. I went off it, and am fine 90% of the time. I was told that if it starts to affect my ability to function on a daily basis. If for even one day, I don't get up, and go to work because of it. Then, I need to do something. Take something. But right now, it doesn't affect me to that extent. It's the rare occasion that it actually takes me down. But it does, sometimes. Just for a few hours at a time usually, but it does.
Rhett and I have been together for 3 years now.. and though he doesn't get it, cause it doesn't happen to him; he understands that it happens to me. He knows when it is coming. And you want to know what he does? He tells me to nap, and he cleans the house, like he did yesterday. Cause the weirdest thing? a clean house immediately eases it. Or, he'll just lay with me, and wait it out. Or, if I'm drowning, and I've stopped trying to gasp for air, he'll drag my ass out of the house and will find me some air.
I owe him a big thanks, for taking care of me, and helping me get through when the anxiety fills me. I'm lucky. I love the way he loves me. Thanks babe.