Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Good. Bad. Ugly.

Thankfully yesterday was the first day in a week that I didn't experience any anxiety or panic. I felt like I could breathe. My thoughts were clear and concise. My heart rate was slow and steady. I smiled and meant it. Lovely! 

Those are the days I live for. They remind me that there is beauty in life's tragic imperfection. I can allow myself to feel my feelings without being consumed by them. Even the typical ebb and flow. 

Then today happened. What started off normal took a sudden turn. A mean comment was hurled in my direction. Like most people, women especially,   I desperately struggle with my self-image. I'm a chubby 31 year old with acne, cellulite, a weird face shape, and stick straight hair. I have to watch YouTube videos to learn how to do anything with my hair, makeup and to learn how to put outfits together. Those things were never taught to me-- and I'm not good at them naturally. 

The last 6 months I've really kept my diet in check. Not without the occasional splurge, but have just tried in general to be more mindful of what I put into my mouth. Last I checked, I was down 26 lbs. Not a huge amount of weight since I have a long way to go, but enough that I was starting not to hate myself so much. I bought some new outfits that made me feel good. That's a huge step. I even tried them on in the store dressing room. I never do that. I always feel like I'm putting pretty curtains up over an ugly window anyway. 

I was drinking Starbucks today. It's the one treat I really allow myself. Mostly because I've been so exhausted lately. I even get it non-fat without whipped cream. That's when the comment came "You know you're fat because you drink that s*** all the time?!" 

I was speechless. I'm still just dumbfounded. Everyone in the room was dead silent. I stood there so mortified. Then I walked out. I mean, what do you say to that? 

When I got home, I started getting all of my smaller clothes out of my closet, and trying them on. I needed to know they fit. I did this in tears, reaming myself for being such a damn screw-up the entire time. Once again I let someone's opinion of me deeply affect my self worth. Then I started hating myself even more. Yay for shame spirals! 

Needless to say, today has been painful. I'm hurt, and angry. I've cried until my face hurt. This is why I hate anxiety so much. We all have days like today, but when anxiousness steals so many days that would otherwise be great, one stolen by someone being an ass (for lack of a better term) makes you sad and angry. 

That said, I see a latte in my near future. X-tra whip, you know, for the haters. 

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Going First...

It's hard to describe the million different emotions I've felt this week. Intense fear, relief, peace, stomach-churning anxiety, happiness, and  more vulnerability than I've allowed myself to experience in a very long time. Feelings are uncomfortable-- especially when you're a sensitive Sally like me.  Even more so when you're dealing with an anxiety disorder like I am.

I've been keeping my heart safe. Putting up nearly impenetrable walls in a feeble effort to protect myself from any pain. Diving into work, and our house and distracting myself from life. I got myself into a comfortable routine. For me , panic attacks are nearly non-existent in routine. My mind is so occupied  at work that I don't panic there. A solid 8 hours of sleep, and a hot bath keeps me grounded. It's when I'm alone, tired and vulnerable-- a bundle of thoughts, concerns and insecurities. It's an internal terror that I don't ever want to face. I'm in tears just writing that. It controls me. Churning inside of my heart and mind until I would do almost anything to make it stop. It's a desperately painful cycle. The more panic attacks I have, the more overall anxious I become.  It's like watching a car crash in slow motion. Just waiting for impact. All. The. Time.

This week threw me out of my routine. Both beautifully and painfully so. I experienced some reconciliation in a relationship. If I were being totally honest. I'd say I'm terrified. I know that there will be bumps, and expectations. I know how broken I am when it comes to relationships. The older you get, the more aware of your faults you become. I'm aware-- very aware of my shortcomings. I don't want to mess things up. I really hope I don't. Really.

We had family in town this week. I didn't eat well. I didn't sleep well. I let tense situations get to me, and have paid in panic attacks. I've spent time alone in tears all while assuring others that I'm okay. Even tonight. even with Matt. I'm tired of burdening people with it. At the same time I know how important it is for me to be honest about it. I want to go first. I want to make my issue a sorce of comfort for people that struggle with the same things. I want people to know that I'm not perfect. I find the most freedom in that. I want others to feel that freedom.

If I were honest, I would admit that I feel like I'm drowning. I forgot how terrible the panic makes me feel. Or how much of a pretty face I put on because I don't want people to know, or worry about me.

If I were honest, I'd say I don't know what to do. I can't always control my routine. Does that mean I'm always going to struggle with this?

If I were honest, I would tell you how much I just want to run away. But I know from experience that that doesn't fix a thing.

I'm a total hypocrite. Not even 24 hours ago I was doling out advice based on my struggles. Advice that I've clearly ignored today. That makes me angry at myself.

I have to figure this out.