Scared Bunny

I hate that this blog is getting to be so much about anxiety. It’s kind of boring to most people, and not as much fun to write about as the crazy ex stories. That said I want to write and have a few guidelines:

1- Relationship stuff is just between me and my wife. I write that for her, and not for general entertainment. Hence, it doesn’t belong here.
2- Kids and works have to be really funny to include.
3- No more talk about the exes. The past is behind me and it cannot hurt me anymore. Plus, why dwell on the many Ms. Wrongs when I have found Ms. Right?
4- No fiction

Add in the fact that true comedy pretty much always goes to “Tales off Sister Grim”, “This Is a Cult” or “Scary Personals”, and what you have left is what I am feeling at the moment I want to write. Frankly, that is often anxiety.

More accurately I am coming off an anxiety attack. It’s harder than hell to write truly anxious. But I want to get out what I was feeling. It’s selfish of me to use this space like that since most of you found the blog after searching “anal sex loving midget strippers”. If you want those stories go way back in the archives. Frankly I say start with the first post.

I had to tell my wife why I stayed in bed so long today. What it gets down to is that the safest I ever feel is curled up with her in bed. It’s not hard to get out of bed because I’m sleepy. It’s hard because that’s the best place for me to control my thoughts and relax my fears. Now, that sucks for her because, unless we have the kids, she will usually stay in bed until I get up since the clock is on my side of the bed.

It sounds pathetic for a man of my age to basically be afraid of getting out of bed, but I am. My wife asked what I am afraid of and I couldn’t really say. The best answer is everything. I am good at my job but it scares me because doing it well isn’t always easy, and success can be out of your control. I am afraid I am not a good enough husband and father. I am honestly afraid of feeling afraid. The anxiety and fear scare me. I hate that feeling. I am afraid of feeling it.

Anxiety is a self feeding animal. You get a twinge of anxiety and your body takes over. If your mind has bad thoughts, your body gets anxious. If the body is anxious and the mind has a bad thought it assumes the thought represents a risk, based on the signals of the body. Having anxiety is like always waiting to be hit. You are braced for it and expecting it. The tension builds and builds as you dwell on the fact you are going to get hit. Except the hit usually never comes.

I didn’t realize just how sheltered I was working at home all the time, but I was. Even though the work was the same as now, it was less stressful because I was in a place I knew I was safe. Nobody was in my environment I didn’t invite. And the hostility always came by phone or email, so I could just choose to ignore it. I can’t do that now. Yes I still mostly work on the phone and email, but I have so many more people involved if I ignore it I hear from someone else, so it’s even worse.

I deal with so many more people now, and I have to get used to that. And more people count on me. In the past if I was having a bad day I really could just blow it off because I was only hurting me. Now with people at home and work counting on me, I can’t do that very much. It’s hard to break a coping mechanism that worked pretty well, but I have no choice. Besides, being a hermit isn’t exactly a healthy coping mechanism.

So now I am trying to get meds adjusted, get cognitive behavioral therapy and treatment for a physical condition that may or may not be related to anxiety. I am making myself live the life I want to live even when it’s scary. I am seeing that just because we are apart doesn’t mean I need to be scared. Just because I have always been hurt doesn’t mean I always will be.

All of these things are rational reactions and beliefs. But the problem with anxiety is that it’s not rational. I have read of people who have their medication next to the bed so they can take them first thing. Their faith in the medication probably does more to eliminate the anxiety than the medication itself. But, hell, I’d try it if I didn’t think my dog would eat them or my cat think they were toys. Frankly I think I am on doses too low for my size, but I’m no doctor.

All I know is that I am going to find a way to end this so I can live the life God has for me. Despite all my mistakes, he’s put me in an amazing position right now. My main job is to not fuck it up.

Your thoughts?

Labels: anxiety, fear, life, medication, panic