Hiya friends, welcome back. Firstly, as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve been MIA for a few days, but I swear I have a good reason. Preparing for guests is a big job, and it’s my first time doing it, so to say that I’ve been a little busy is a major understatement. I also had some other things happen this week and I’ll discuss those more in the post.
Saturday
Getting prepared for our guests has finally forced Hobbs and I to finish getting our house in order. Woohoo! I’ve only been begging him to help me decorate for 6 hoofin months. Better late than never, I suppose.
My morning was pretty routine, cleaning, homework, and then some more cleaning. When Hobbs got home from work, we went to Lowe’s and spent an obscene amount of money on light switch and outlet covers (seriously, why are those things so fucking expensive, and why do we have so many outlets in a house that’s 118 years old?).
Hobbs edit: I have to say that we also bought a weed whacker, and he would also like you to know that he plans on getting a leaf blower when the time comes. He’s very proud of his growing arsenal of lawn care products.
Personally, I cannot wait to see his face when he comes home from work one day and there is a six and a half foot tall (and eight foot long) inflatable dinosaur sprinkler in the
backyard for our friends’ kids to play in. (Side note: I’ve decided to name the sprinkler Roger, I told you I personify everything.)
When we got back from Lowe’s, we spent a good hour and a half putting all of the light switch/outlet covers on. I had a little blip during this, which really pissed me off. Mainly because I had been walking around the store for about an hour and not even a peep from the Asshole. Walk in my own fucking house and then he decides to start his shit. It was one of those times where I just pushed past him and kept it moving while he proceeded to throw his toys out of the pram because I wasn’t paying him enough attention.
Sunday
I was a little anxious today. On the scale, I’d say I was probably coming in at a 7 or 8. What made it really annoying was that I really couldn’t figure out why. It probably didn’t help that Panic showed up at around noon and decided we were having a day together. Sometimes, I think I can handle both, anxiety and panic, really well when they’re separate, but when they decide to gang up on me? Yeah, fucking forget it.
I tried to push myself through as best I could, that day, if for no other reason than I had a ton of stuff to get done between homework and housework. I did end up getting more done than I expected, but I struggled a bit through everything I did.
It didn’t end there either, because why would it? When we went to bed that night, I had so much trouble falling asleep. It was probably around 4 am before I finally drifted off. I tried everything to get to my brain to shut down before then, but nothing worked. I don’t know if this happens to you guys, but whenever I can’t sleep there inevitably comes a time when I just get mad about it. I did alright until about 2 am, and then spent the next two hours getting aggravated. I know getting pissed about it won’t help, but I seriously can’t help it. Honestly, I’m positive the only reason I fell asleep then was just the fact that my body shut down. What a shitty day.
One thing that did happen on Sunday (between the homework and housework), is that I got it in my head to apply for a job. Now, my anxiety and panic has definitely hindered me in this aspect of my life. I haven’t worked in a while, basically because I couldn’t get myself to physically leave the house. Every time I walked out the front door, I would be massively panicky and anxious and basically unable to do anything, so I just avoided leaving the house altogether. Not being able to leave the house, meant that getting a job out of the house was out of the question. I went ahead and applied though, and just figured I might hear something back this time.
Later that night, Hobbs and I had to go to Lowe’s again to pick up a new breaker box for 
the house (ours is only a 100 amp, and that means no running the stove and the dryer at the same time. Buy a house, they said. It’ll be fun, they said…). A trip to Lowe’s meant that I needed to shut the Asshole and panic down so I could get my shit done, and that’s exactly what I did. I even went out to dinner, granted by the end of the meal, I was crawling out of my skin to get home, but still.
Monday
On Monday, I woke up tired as hell. I got very little sleep and the sleep I did get was nowhere near good. It’s safe to say I was a little pissy, okay…A LOT pissy. This entire day was spent working through my homework. I was convinced that if I just kept my mind busy, I would be able to keep out of the grips of the Asshole. Shockingly, it did help, just not completely. I ended up having a few blips throughout the day, nothing seriously major but I just didn’t feel right. I’m pretty sure that makes no sense to anyone. Let me explain.
Have you ever just felt off? That’s how I felt all day on Monday. I honestly don’t know if it was due to the lack of sleep or the Asshole just hanging around. It almost felt like I couldn’t get my brain and body on the same page. All. Damn. Day.
Interesting little thing that happened on Monday, was an email asking if I can schedule a time to take a test for that job I applied for. On one hand, I was super excited that they thought I could be a fit for this job. On the other, it just added to my anxiety. I fought with myself on whether or not to actually go through with scheduling it, and in the end I decided to go for it. After scheduling the test for the next day, I got to deal with the Asshole trying to make me bail on it. All of this definitely made it hard for me to sleep again that night.
Tuesday
Test day…oh man, I was rough this day. I tried my hardest to keep my brain away from the idea that, not only am I taking this test today, which if I bomb there goes the job, but also that I have to drive to Massachusetts to take it. If I let my brain wander, I would end up freaking out, and telling Hobbs I wasn’t going, to his credit he just said, “okay.”
In the end, I drove to Mass and took the test. Funnily enough, I didn’t panic while I was there. I was anxious on the drive up, but I just kept going. I did have a moment, while walking in the rain to the test. It gave me time to actually focus on the Asshole…never a good thing. He was having himself a grand ole time trying to convince me this whole thing was a waste of time. (He might not be wrong, but I don’t need him to remind me.) Once I was in there and got in to take the test, I had him locked tight in his maze, 
complete with barbed wire walls and lego floors (he really hates it and that gives me some sort of sick pleasure).
After taking the test, there was a major blip. I went the wrong way out of the building. I wasn’t paying attention, and ended up getting a little lost trying to find the car. I’ve never been great at reading the GPS map on my phone (I might have called my mom when I got home and bitched about never being put in Girl Scouts – I blame that entirely), and that led to me being lost walking around a city I didn’t know. It didn’t last very long, but it was definitely long enough for Panic to slide in and take over. Thankfully, I’m a master at hiding my fear after years of practice, and no one in the streets noticed that I was freaking the fuck out. I finally found the car and Hobbs – who had been patiently waiting for me – and got the hell outta Dodge. I didn’t even bother telling him that I got a little lost or had a panic attack in the rain until we got home.
That night, I drowned my post anxiety feelings in some video games (Tom Clancy’s The Division to be exact), shutting my brain down to save the people of New York City.
Wednesday
I was finally feeling back to “normal.” I really buckled down and got most of my homework done and I decorated the ground floor of the house. Alert the news media, 
people, there are things on our walls now – about fucking time, to be honest. I was super proud of myself, I drilled and hammered like a boss (did anyone else’s brain take a trip in the gutter? No? Just mine then?). Hobbs was the ever present moral support, helping me decide where things went but other than that I was on my own for the actual hanging.
On the whole, my day was pretty good, save for the accidental scratching of the paint in our dining room (oops). I took some me time yesterday too, I just vegged the hoof out for the rest of the night, played some more Division and then went to bed. Guess what? I was actually asleep by like 1 in the morning…that’s a good day, my friends.
Thursday
Which finally brings us to today (cue seat dancing). I had an okay day, not great but definitely not one of the worst days I’ve ever had. I think it’s just because I have a lot going on right now. I found myself feeling rather panicky throughout the day, but it wasn’t unbearable. I got more done on my homework and then puttered around most of the day.
The Asshole stayed relatively quiet through the daylight hours, but as soon as night fell, I 
guess he decided it was game time. I spent a lot of the night battling and trying to get caught up on my blog. I don’t even know why he showed up, honestly. I did some thinking about it, and it could be a number of things, from preparing for our guests to worrying about this job I applied for. I’m basically too tired to fight him tonight, so I’m just going to attempt to sleep this away. Wish me luck!
It’s been an interesting week, and I’m glad I’m finally caught up here. You guys know the drill by now, there are two numbers down at the bottom, the National Suicide Prevention Helpline, and the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) Treatment Referral Helpline, use them if you need them. See you lovely lot tomorrow.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
SAMHSA: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)
four, and I felt I could take on the world. This feeling happens so few and far between that when it does I fucking revel in it.
my anxiety and panic. Which inevitably reminded me that, in that time, I never thought I’d come out on the other side. Whenever Hobbs and I discuss this period of time, we just call it ‘The Dark Time’. Obviously, it’s not really my favorite thing in the world to talk about. I mean, I’d much rather talk about my family and friends, or my pets. Actually, I’d really rather poke hot nails into my eyes, then go back there again, which is exactly why I’ve decided to talk about it now. I feel this need to tell people about how bad it can get, how bad I can get.
the vest is because people look at you differently the second you tell them. There is a moment after the words come out, that you notice the look in their eyes changes. You are no longer what they thought you once were, and instead they now know all the darkness that lives inside you.
are reasons people tell you to not live with relatives, there really are. I was still rather new in my dealings with anxiety and panic, and I’ve said before, I was struggling. The only way I can describe the struggle that I was dealing with is like this: have you ever felt like you were doing everything in your power to keep your head above water, and yet you know that it’s futile? That there is something dragging you to the depths? This is how I felt everyday when I woke up. I never had four days then, and looking back on it, I was certain I never would have a good day again. Between the anxiety/panic and living with people who were constantly finding ways to belittle me, I was drowning, and I knew it.
do with me. In that time, I was seeing my life in shades of grey; nothing made me happy. I knew on some level this was happening because I was actually believing the words I was hearing, but I couldn’t drag myself out of it. I tried not to listen to them and to block them out, but nothing worked. I was constantly hearing how horrible I was, stupid, fat, worthless (I actually described myself that way to my mother one night and I’m positive she was trying to climb through the phone to throttle me).
greeted the depression. I knew something was different. I went through the day like I usually would, cleaning, laundry, cooking. Later in the day, after Hobbs came home, I stepped onto the porch for something and I heard some of his family talking about me. “The girl is no good, she’s just dragging him down.” The last things I heard were “white trash,” and that was it. I was done. I knew I couldn’t face these people anymore. I couldn’t even stand to look at myself in a mirror then. I remember sitting down to dinner with Hobbs and really giving it my all, he actually said, “You seem better today, that’s amazing.” I wasn’t better, I was gone. I drank my face off that night, I needed the liquid courage.
got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I wasn’t even crying, I just felt numb. I don’t know if any of you have ever felt that but god, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I opened the cabinet near the sink and searched for the pills, they weren’t there. Now I know that Hobbs has gotten rid of them without knowing what I had planned. I was fucking angry, and I took the fact that I couldn’t find them to mean I needed another way out. I thought about breaking the mirror, I mean, they do that in movies all the time, it can’t be that hard. My next thought was how I didn’t want Hobbs to have to wake up to that. It would be much better for him if it looked like I just went to sleep, no gore, he didn’t deserve that.
floor that night, trying to figure out how I was going to do this. One half of me was begging for the calm that would follow, while the other was telling me to fight. It wasn’t until Hobbs walked into the living room and asked why I was still awake that I realized I had stayed up all night fighting with myself. In that moment, I looked at him and just knew I couldn’t go through with it.
I started seeing a new therapist within the week, on Hobbs insistence. We also started looking at new places. It took a little while, but we found a new place. We never told them we were leaving, just started packing and one weekend, moved out. It wasn’t until we had moved into the new apartment that he finally got the courage to say, “You were going to take them if you found them, weren’t you?” I gave him the only answer I could, “Yes.”
adn’t ever been to that place before, and thankfully, I’ve not been back since. I know that talking about it helped me, and I’m not saying that’s all it took, but it helped. If you are, or you know someone who is, in that place right now…reach out. Reach out to anyone, I don’t care if it’s a significant other, a friend, or a fucking stranger, no one deserves to go through that alone. The dark is scary when you’re alone. Sometimes it helps to ask a friend for a flashlight. I’ve got one if someone needs it.
Usually, I do not leave the house without my security blanket – otherwise known as Hobbs. (He tends to act as a buffer between me and the world…actually it’s more like he keeps me anchored so I don’t drown in the anxiety or panic.) As we all know, he has been home this week because he’s sick, so he couldn’t very well go to the store with me, could he? Unfortunately, his not being able to go didn’t change the fact that we needed shit from said store, so I had to suck it up and go buy said shit.
panic attacks in public. I can usually keep the Asshole at bay long enough to pop in someplace and grab a few things; I mean, he talks shit the whole time, but generally, I can control it for a bit. (Side note: if anyone could see inside my memory warehouse they would laugh at the scene. It’s basically just the Asshole and I having a Mortal Kombat style face off, with the warehouse employees shouting “finish him.”) It’s really just the panic attacks that come out of fucking nowhere that ruins the real world for me. For a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to risk it; it wasn’t worth it. Y’know when people say the risk is worth the reward? Yeah, not here. I have seen enough brain wranglers to know that I was dealing with a mild form of agoraphobia.
Up until a few months ago, I avoided leaving the house at all cost.
that, even when shit goes sideways, I’m not doing too bad. What’s that saying, “it’s a bad day, not a bad life”? I’m gonna get that shit embroidered on a pillow, and put it where I can see it every day to remind myself. (For those wondering, an embroidered pillow with the saying of your choice, is anywhere from $18.99 to $ 32.99. That’s vaguely affordable if you ask me.) Alright, it’s almost tomorrow now, so I should probably try to unwind and get to sleep before 3 am.
Basically when Hobbs gets sick, I absolutely lose it. I’m pretty sure that the way anxiety works makes no fucking sense. The thought process with this is much like the 
technically happen. The chance that it will happen, is very slim, and even if it did, I can’t possibly hold myself responsible for how germs work (those things are evil). I’m pretty sure this won’t make sense to anyone who doesn’t have anxiety, but the reason behind reminding myself that it could happen, is to keep myself from going off on the “You’re a fucking nutter” quest. Basically, it’s to stop the “Yup, I’m crazy” thoughts. Thinking you’re crazy does absolutely nothing to fucking help the situation. It’s better for me to acknowledge the ideas could happen but they probably won’t.
reassurances in the world can’t fucking stop it. There have been times when Hobbs has gotten sick and I’ve spent all night having one panic attack after another. I feel so fucking bad for Hobbs on those nights. He’s the one who’s sick and yet he spends hours trying to convince me that he’s okay. I’ll say it again for the people in the back, anxiety can be a real asshole sometimes.
Let’s see, today was pretty good. I actually did some housework, and finished my homework. Hobbs had to work this morning, but last night I knew that wasn’t going to last long when he looked at me and asked, “Did this *gestures in my general vicinity* start out as a scratchy throat?” In that moment, I knew I was about to have a man baby on my hands. He was home by noon, and within fifteen minutes of walking in, was camped on the couch in his sweats.
apologize for the brevity but I promised Hobbs we’d watch Timeless tonight.
Once I was parked on the couch (and Mr. Tiny Bladder was taken care of), I got some homework today, which was amazing. I hate falling behind; without fail I always start freaking out that I’m not going to get everything done in time, and I bet you can guess where that leads (I’ll give you a hint…his name begins with ‘Ass’ and ends with ‘hole’). I even took some time to remember the good old days, back when I could breathe without coughing. Man, I miss that. (See, the shitty humor is coming back; soon all will be right with the world.)
idea to jump in the shower (I had no idea, at this time, that being too hot would trigger anything). I’m thinking a nice steamy shower will help me relax, because that’s all I need to do, right? Relax. Halfway through the shower, I get out in full. On. Panic. Mode. I can’t breathe, this is the worst one of the day. I open the door and sit on the toilet, just trying to get my breathing to stabilize. There was still conditioner in my hair and shaving cream on my leg. Hobbs looks in and starts to laugh…until he sees my face. Somehow, I calm down, I get back in a colder shower and rinse the conditioner out – the legs are a lost cause at this point, and I didn’t fucking care – I push through the shower and jump out. I can honestly say I don’t recall ever getting dressed as quick as I did that day.
Okay, I don’t mean to end this abruptly but I’m beat, and I just want to go veg out with the Hobbs. I’m sure you all understand.
I’ve never been good at being sick. For as long as I can remember, I’ve cried my way through most illnesses. It didn’t really matter if it was something as simple as a cold, I could be found sobbing like a small child. Looking back, I can’t say for certain this wasn’t anxiety, and honestly it would explain a lot, like maybe why I still react this way.
panic is just piggybacking onto the Asshole and my already worn out body and brain. It’s really easy to spiral for me when I’m like this. If I can’t keep righting myself, it becomes almost easier to allow my brain to find the groove in the broken record and continuously replay that one spot. I also have seen enough therapists to know that, more than just illness, death is a massive issue for me. When I’m sick, in my mind, it puts me closer to that and I just lose it.
Maybe I should take the time to explain that anxiety and panic are two completely separate entities. I know that a lot of people seem to think that they are the same thing, but that isn’t true. I mean, one can cause the other, and they can coexist in the samehabitat, but they are different. The easiest way to explain the difference is that panic happens without any trigger, generally when there really isn’t any perceived danger, and can show up out of nowhere. Anxiety happens because you think there is danger, usually triggered by actual real life situations, and for the most part, you can feel it building before it hits.
Hiya friends, welcome back. Let’s set the scene, shall we? I am currently laying on the couch, surrounded by tissues, water, cough drops, and inhalers. There is also my homework somewhere under the blankets and pillows. I’ve been alternating between sleeping, watching TV (Rizzoli & Isles, I’m a sucker for crime procedural), working on homework, and reading. To be fair, that list is only happening between bouts of coughing or sneezing.
in bed just trying to keep the Asshole in his place. It’s only 9pm and I’m already debating going upstairs and assuming the position of someone who wishes to wallow in self pity. In case you haven’t guessed yet, I’m a massive baby when I’m sick. I’ve asked my mother if she agrees with this and she says she doesn’t, but I strongly suspect she’s lying to make me feel better in my feeble state.
The Biblio Feels 