I don't know if any of my vast following struggles with panic, anxiety disorder, or depression, or if that trifecta of awesomeness resides in me alone. I certainly feel your pain if you do happen to deal with any of these issues.
As recently as yesterday my emotional chaos took the sleep from my night, and caused my few restless dreams to be those of panicked strings of confusion and frustration. I didn't ask for this mental disorder, but I can thank my mother's side of the family whole heartedly for it. I begrudge my reality, only because I don't have anywhere else to place the blame but within myself or God, and I've already done that... for years.
In any case, I woke with a terrible attitude, and continue to feel angry, thus spewing my feelings here. I know that I'm supposed to try and be positive... to 'talk positively to myself' to inspire a better attitude about myself and the world around me... to expect the best even though faced with the worst. Yeah, right. That hasn't been part of my M.O. EVER, and I can't fake it now. I discovered recently a new 'disorder' that I have, thanks once again to my maternal family. Body Dismorphic Disorder or BDD. It's a reality that everything about you is wrong, bad, ugly, worthless, and disgusting. Fun huh? Yeah... it's difficult. I didn't realize I had it until I found myself thinking about how ugly and disgusting I am, and looking up the disorder thanks to my mother's prompting (she also has this disorder). BDD also causes you to pick at yourself, mentally AND physically, causing scars, blemishes, and more disdain for how I look and feel. I can't tell you how much I didn't need this. It limits what I do, how I interact with others, how social (or antisocial) I am. Mix that with anxiety disorder and depression, and you've got a real cluster stew of misery.
Why do I share all this? Because the keyboard and monitor are who I'm telling - not you. I'm alone in my own home - safe and (minimally) sound. Your encouragement online is also at arms length, so I can feel your love, but feel it without looking into your face. Not a lot of people know me fully, and I don't let many people in. In fact, this is the most I've allowed in a very long time.
Panic comes on when change comes into my life. We discussed a very big potential for change yesterday, thus bringing on the panic through the night. It was only a preliminary conversation, but to my mentally disabled mind, it's all I need to begin to perseverate on things. To worry about the what ifs, the 'I can't do that', the 'what will we do about x, y or z'?! It's a never ending, back of the mind, scalp tightening, teeth clenching reality that I have slowly grown more and more accustom to. I hate it, but I can't seem to help it. No drugs or counseling have ever brought relief. It brings me to my knees, and at some points, I ask the Lord to bring me Home. It gets that bad. Back spasms, sleepless nights, tears, prayer, and panic. Oh if only a paper bag over my heaving sighs would take the pain away.
At this point I'm thinking "what will they think of me now?!" Wondering if I've completely alienated myself from even the few who read these stupid blogs. I don't think you'll turn away, although in the depths of your minds, I know you see me differently. Be it with pity, uncertainty, or aversion... it's different. I push people away quite a bit, because I don't want to know how little you think of me. I don't believe you when you say you love me, and love who I am. I never will believe you, because it isn't within my mental ability to do so. I can put on a pretty good face, and fool a lot of people most of the time... which is how I've always gotten by. Play the game, act in the role you have to, get through the day, and collapse from exhaustion every night in the privacy of home.
Meanwhile, I think I'll post this anyway... because at this point I don't feel like I have anything to lose. I don't love myself, and thus I cannot love others appropriately. I never have, and even that makes me feel guilty. I can't give love, so I give gifts monetarily instead. It at least makes me feel better... for a little while. That is a reality I've never faced before, so you've just witnessed a personal epiphany. Yahoo.
If you read this, don't respond. I don't want to know who knows this much about me. It will only make me more anxious. Just know that when people post the statements about depression and anxiety are very real for some of us... and find it within yourself to try to believe that it's a real disorder that cripples its victims.
