I’m sick today.
Not the I’m coughing up my lungs sick. My anxiety and depression is really acting up. My whole abdomen feels like it’s about to detach and roll right off my body, I’m in that much searing pain.
This may sound like a weird thing to say but sometimes I can’t decide if my anxiety pains are better or worse than my menstrual pains. And I get nasty menstrual pains, too.
I’m half afraid to go outside because when you pass people on your way to class there’s a social convention where you ask people how they’re doing and you’re supposed to reply with “good!” and I’m just concerned it will be like: “hey! How are you doing today?”
“I have shearing and debilitating pain that makes me want to collapse into the void”
A few hours later, “you know, I don’t know why Sally reported me to counseling like that. Snitches get stitches bitch…. you know, after I don’t feel like I’m being stabbed in multiple places… you know what screw it. I’m tired and it’s been a while since I got my 14 hour nap so I’ll catch y’all later.”
What sucks the most about having an anxiety disorder is I get these jolts of anxiety. I don’t know how many others can relate to this but I’ll be sitting there, minding my own business and suddenly I get this wave of panic like “OH SHIT YOU GOTTA DO EVERYTHING NOW YOU’RE GONNA FAIL” and I just sit there shaking for a minute or so.
And then I’m alright. For like five minutes.
And then it happens again.
It’s like having multiple seizures of panic that come and go and how dare you think you’re over them because the next one is lurking around the corner waiting to jolt you like a defibrillator.
Everything just hurts right now. Emotionally, physically, everything. But how do I explain that to people. How do I ask for help. I wish I was better at telling my professors about my mental health issues but unfortunately I don’t really feel safe doing so. About a week ago one of my professors side tracked on his lecture to talk about mental health issues because one of the kids in our class is a psych major. And this professor literally says “you know, sometimes it’s not ~mental health~ or ~chemical imbalance~. Sometimes it’s something spiritual. Like demon possession.”
I wish I could say that’s the first time I’ve heard that. It’s really not. I doubt it’ll be the last. And I keep telling myself the age old “just don’t let it bother you! Ignore them and they’ll leave you alone!”
But the truth is I went home and cried for a solid hour.
So a week later when my anxiety is crippling me and my medication is enough to completely cover the depth of my despair, it doesn’t help to have what that professor said replay in my head over and over again like a broken record.
Believe me, if I could make myself better I would. If taking Sudafed was the answer to all my ailments I would put myself in a coma drinking the whole bottle.
But it doesn’t always work that way.
Sometimes you aren’t cured the way you hope you’ll be.
And you have to draft an email to your (other) professor saying you won’t be able to make it class today because you’re emotional wreck whose desperately trying to save face by not allowing others to see what you struggle with because who knows what opinions they’ll have about it.
And you feel like a fraud. You’re not coughing. You don’t have a fever. Stop being a whining bitch and go to class. You don’t really have a chemical imbalance you’re just experiencing “normal” fears.
But I hurt. I hurt all over.
I’m just so tired right now.
I’m so tired.