Living on the Ceiling

Disclaimer: This Post is wholly unstructured due to it’s/my nature. Build up of ideas and offshoots creates jostling inside brain, thus inhibiting brain function

Today I’m writing not just for myself (90% me) but for others who may come across my musings who also struggle with the jumpy little demon known as ‘anxiety’. He lives in your chest and he pokes at your head with his nasty red trident, and touches buttons in your control room that really don’t need to be utilised right now but he’s going to do it anyway so you just start crying because you can’t handle it anymore ARGHSHFUCKSAKEYOUDON’TLOVEMEHOWCOULDANYONELOVEMEI’MAFAILURE???!11!!!

It really is ridiculous what a person with anxiety will worry about.

You might find it hard to be on your own. Likewise, you might also find it hard to be around people.

It’s like living in a cage, and everyone thinks you’re so amusing like a funny bear, and sometimes you are but then you sink into your corner ashamed and worry about who secretly can’t abide you and all the ways you embarrassed yourself.

There are so many triggers for anxiety; everybody’s different.

Take, for example, my rude awakening this morning. The culprit: a fly.

It’s hot and windows need to be open.

At approximately 0600 hours I am abruptly awakened by the fly, buzzing near my ear. I wave it off.

But that isn’t enough, because I haven’t actually seen the fly leave. There will be no more sleep for me. There is the tiny possibility that the fly has actually entered my ear, and is laying it’s disgusting, evil fly eggs in a nice comfortable wedge of ear wax. It’s possible I’VE HEARD TALES.

This will, in the scenario my brain is creating, probably be followed by days of discomfort, and a visit to a&e where a doctor has to extract the fly and it’s larvae with a tweezer-like implement. BUT… OH FUCK…

WHAT IF IT WAS A WASP? (One of my many phobias…)

I didn’t see what it was and it might be my arch-nemesis, the wasp.

And I’m at a&e again in the scenario in my brain (because I can’t get a appointment at the doctors because the secretary laughs in disbelief when I try to explain what the problem is) and they look into my ear and the nurse gives the doctor a look like ‘ooooooo shit.’ and it angrily stings the fuck out of my inner ear as they try to remove it.

This *obviously* ridiculous scenario plays out in my head for an hour or so and I admit defeat, I don’t get no more sleep, and try to think of something else. But last year I saw this nightmarish Asian hornet on France, it was truly FUBAR and so I have to get up because, fuck that shit.

I tend to arrive here in these blog ramblings, the point where I announce that there is a point to this anecdote and say, ‘well, not really a point’. I forgot what I lerned@uni, really it’s an example that only maybe a fifth of you will really nod your head at and sigh, ‘yep’. A lot of you are probably thinking, ‘wow, freak!’ or maybe that’s just my super-paranoid mind thinking that everyone dislikes me at least a bit and suspects that I’m exaggerating.

Things are looking slightly up (maybe at a 100 degree angle but, you know, slow and steady)

At the minute I am seeing a counsellor, because as I have written previously the ‘drugs don’t work’ for me; whilst removing depressive thoughts, which is nice, they fail to suppress my anxiety and that’s really what I need. She’s a lovely Mexican lady, and it REALLY helps to have someone to offload all these feelings on to once a week who will not be offended/bored/amused by what comes out.

Anxiety really is a nature/nurture illness. I know that it *must* be a chemical inbalance somewhere in my brain, because SSRIs (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors) have helped with some symptoms (and made me when inebriated). Not only that but, really, it’s fucking ridiculous how often I worry and the multitude of things that occupy my anxious little mind.

On the other hand, people’s experiences as a child definitely have great influence over your expectations and actions as an adult. I’m not the expert by a fucking country mile, but any of you who are like me and have not yet sought out talking therapies, I 100% recommend it. You don’t have to tell anyone else, and if you don’t like your counsellor you can switch until you find a nice one (I’m just happy to have someone impartial watch me cry and talk about my feelings regardless tbh)

Although, as my counsellor conceded, I’ll almost certainly never be rid of anxiety, I have noticed already that I can be a lot calmer in certain situations and less reactive than I would have been two months ago. There are some aspects of my condition that I have finally shed light on. Understanding that it’s important to keep yourself happy, for example. I’ve a long way to go, and am STILL so scared of asking certain people and institutions (work stands out particularly) to give me what need, rather than always trying to appease them.

One big change for me has been reducing alcohol intake. I no longer glug to get gatted (well, except on occasions where I get too excited/nervous and go way overboard- but that’s now biannually). It’s quite difficult, as I have depended on alcohol in the past, and I still crave a pint when I’m feeling lovely and happy and also when I’m feeling like a god-damn trainwreck failure. But I’m doing well so there’s one big middle finger to my misleading mind.

So I think I’ll probably conclude here, with something, because I could ramble on and on about this for another few thousand words and that’s just boring and also it will make me feel really self-indulgent and I’ll get paranoid that you think I’m the most self-centred person you’ve ever come across (I’m already thinking it). To sum up:

Fellow anxieters, breath deeply, drink some water because you might not have drank enough water today and your skin might go dry and you might get cystitis, and remember: it’s okay and totally normal to put your needs first sometimes, because, after all, if you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gon’ love someone else?

Amens if you like.