The trouble with anxiety is that it never FULLY goes away. It’s always there. It may be so in your face and forceful, or it could be lingering, just on the sidelines of your peripheral vision. Whatever the case, it’s there.
Tonight I sit here. In my boyfriends bed. Twiddling my thumbs. Watching tv on my phone. Doing anything really to take my mind off of why I’m feeling so uptight and trying my best to even out my breathing but nothing really seems to be doing the trick. I’m worried about driving into the city for “training” tomorrow. I’m worried about training itself. I’m worried about the “role playing scenarios” I’m going to have to participate in. I’m worried about the drive back home. I’m worried about after training this week, when I have to go back to work. I’m worried about not meeting my goals for the month. I’m worried about the customers. I’m worried about money. I’m worried about moving. I’m worried about NOT moving. I really could just sit here and go on and on and on and fucking on. I honestly feel like I can’t breathe right now. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I don’t understand how I can even live with myself. And what makes it worse is that people think that there is something wrong with you when you’re on the brink or mid panic attack. They always want to know “what’s wrong” or “why you’re breathing funny” or “why you’re crying”. I don’t fucking know half the time. It just comes out of no where and knocks me off of my feet. Sometimes, there isn’t anything “wrong” with me. And that’s when they will begin to label you as crazy or insane.
I thought that talking about this right now would have made me feel better. Usually it does but right now I feel just as lost and confused and panic-stricken as I was when I first started this post.