Anxiety Confessions

Confession: I don't know what to write. I'm here. I showed up. I'm ready to write. But...about what? I have lots of thoughts: jumbled thoughts, tangled thoughts, fast running thoughts, lazy river thoughts. But, fast or slow, I can't seem to catch any of them. They slip through my fingers like dandelion fuzz on the wind. I feel jittery and scatterbrained and, at the same time, heavy...like one of those over-loaded old pick-up trucks carting a house-full of belongings strapped on with bungee cord and riding low to the ground. It's a weird dichotomy of physical and mental sensations. Hence the jumbliness of it all.

Confession: Things have been weird on the inside lately. My inner world is the manifestation of a tired, old, wooden roller coaster. Ups, downs, and some extra fear thrown in because you're never quite certain if the whole thing might not just come down right in the middle of the ride. And there's buzziness. I'm pretty sure that the buzziness I'm feeling is a sign that I should call the doctor and try a small increase in dosage. But the buzziness is so unreliable. Every time I think, Okay, I'm gonna call tomorrow and just do it, tomorrow comes and I feel better and I think, Nope, I'm fine. It was just an off day.

Because I am totally fine. You guys, I look and behave like a totally normal person. And so often I feel like a totally normal person. But sometimes I don't. Sometimes the weight of everyone else's stuff makes me feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin because I want so badly to fix it all. I want to make everything okay for everyone. Rationally I know that I can't do that. Logically I know that this is how things are supposed to be. We're all supposed to have tough times. We're all supposed to face challenges. This is life as a human on earth. But rational, logical thought is not what's at play in my brain when I'm doing this.

Confession: It's anxiety.

That bitch.

Because of her, one minute I can be singing I'm Ready by AJR at the top of my lungs in the car, and the next I can be, mentally, mumbling and running my hand through my hair like crazy Jim from Taxi. One day I can be focused on goals and manifesting my dreams and doing yoga and meditation, and the next I can be bouncing like a pinball between those little flicker things that knock the ball around: revisions, blog, random thought, Facebook, Instagram, random thought, email, text, random thought, Google search, to-do list...Bing, Bing, Bing, Bing!

You might think that I'm sitting here worrying about things, like people with anxiety might do. But I'm not consciously worrying. I'm not sitting here twisting a hankie in my hands focusing on bad stuff. I'm not. But in the background, like malware running behind the scenes on your laptop, that shit is going down.

Confession: As I focus in on the anxiety, as I sit here at my coffeeshop table and write about this, the thrumming in my body is increasing to the point that it fills my ears; my body's vibrating with it; I'm getting lightheaded and a bit spacey; my hands are a little shaky. It feels a lot like I've had boat-loads of caffeine on an empty stomach...and I mean BOAT-LOADS. Like, a really big boat...like a Disney cruise ship full of espresso.

But I bet none of the people around me in this coffeeshop have any idea. I've got ear buds in and I'm listening to Daily Calm sounds of water and birds. I look like a regular working person.

Confession: I AM a regular working person. Though it may not be fair to say that everyone experiences exactly what I'm experiencing, I think it is safe to say that everyone experiences their own version of craziness on the inside. We just don't all talk about it (or write about it)...or recognize it; or focus on it; or admit to it, even to ourselves. We all are riding some kind of roller coaster. We all have ups and downs. I just see fit to share it with all of you.

Why?

Because it aligns with my purpose. That sounds weird, but it's true. If my writing about this does anything to make anyone else feel better about their own inner experience; to feel a little less alone in it all; then it's totally worth it. It's the reason I blog. It's the reason I write books. (Or, at least, it's one of the reasons.) Plus it's therapeutic, this journal-writing type thing. It's good for the soul. Try it.

Confession: It's possible that the Americano I drank might be making this worse. (I did eat yogurt with fruit and granola, though, so I didn't have it on an empty stomach, I swear.) So I'm gonna go get a peppermint tea and eat a Larabar and see if I can get some novel revisions done...cuz I got goals, people. And I'm not gonna let a little anxiety get in my way. Anxiety can go fuck herself.

Confession: You can tell anxiety has me amped up because I've cursed three times in this post. I tend to get extra feisty when I"m like this. But seriously, anxiety is a bitch and she can go fuck herself, because I do have bigger fish to fry.

Confession: I don't fry fish. I don't eat fried fish. It kinda grosses me out. But it's a saying. I do, however, sometimes bring home the bacon. Literally. Uncured, turkey bacon, but still.

Ugh. I'm getting off track. Damn crazy brain. I should go.

Until next time, share your own confessions. Get a journal. Open a word doc that'll never see the light of day. Talk it out with a therapist. Whatever your jam is. But get it down. Get it out. Express your thoughts and feelings. And maybe, possibly, lay off the espresso...