Archive for March 7th, 2013

07 Mar 2013

I fight Anxiety, Anxiety sometimes wins.

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I walked into my bedroom last night and started to shake. Not a full-on seizure kind of shaking, jut a slight shake that let’s me know I’m having anxiety.

My bedroom does not, as Oprah likes to say, “Rise up to meet me” when I walk into it. It does the opposite. It sits there, flaccid and sad, almost mocking me. It’s the bedroom of a college kid who still has her grandma’s furniture, painted green by her boyfriend 10 years ago. My boyfriend is now my husband. And the bedroom needs a makeover. Really quickly though…

KISS MY ASS, OPRAH! IF I WAS A BILLIONAIRE, MY WHOLE FUCKING HOUSE WOULD RISE UP TO MEET ME BECAUSE I’D PAY IT TO DO SO!!

Anyway, the state of my bedroom gave me a little bit of stress. I actually laughed out loud thinking, “I’m 41! When am I going to have a grown-up house?” My thoughts almost always thankfully, swiftly change to how lucky I am and how many things are far more important than the state of my bedroom. But the anxiety lingers.

Today I opened my bathroom cabinet and all of a sudden saw what was in there, not through my own eyes, but through the eyes of someone else who might open it. I am not exaggerating when I say 85% of the stuff in there was expired. And on top of the cabinet? TONS of products I haven’t used in over a year. Shaking, I calmly walked to the kitchen to get a large, black garbage bag. With each bottle I emptied into a ziploc bag, (so as to recycle and not put crap down the sink and into the ocean), my anxiety… Worsened. Thirty minutes later I was done with the medicine cabinet and a small drawer, still needing to tackle the big closet.

As I worked, anxiety-ridden thoughts floated through my head:

How does this happen?

Didn’t I just clean this all out, like six months ago?

Why did I buy THAT?

Do other people do this???

WHY IS THIS XANAX EXPIRED? AND WHY DID I ONLY TAKE A HALF OF ONE OF THEM????

I pace. I eat. I shake. I pace. I stop breathing. I force myself to breathe. I pace. I triumphantly fill the trash bag. I shake my head. I repeat.

As I pace through the house, and often head to the kitchen, I see everything else that I’m doing wrong. There’s a stack of papers on the dining room table. My office, which was spotless two months ago, is unorganized again. Then there are the tell-tale signs of college-living. The ripped couch. The mangled floors.

I beat myself up. I call myself stupid and lazy and pathetic.

I force myself to breathe again.

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I started cleaning out the bathroom about three hours ago. I’m a quick vacuum away from being done. It’s worlds better. Almost perfect, actually. But I’m sitting here on my laptop, shoveling kettle corn into my face, knowing I have to force myself to go back in and finish. I want to run away. I’m ashamed of myself.

I am not going to let the anxiety beat me today. I’m going to take five more minutes to finish my job, and then I’m going to take my dog on a long walk, until I can breathe again without having to force it, and without shaking.

I take full responsibility for the things I need to improve upon.

And I forgive myself.

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It’s nearly five hours later. I’ve walked into my bathroom several times to see what I accomplished. It makes me feel proud. But the rest of the house is still glaring at me. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.

I ate too much today and now I feel worse about myself.

But I took Bogie on a long walk and breathed. When Garrett got home, we set up a birthday party for Furby. I cooked a nice meal. We ate together as a family. G and I played Wii and laughed a lot.

I was on my iPhone too much. Something else I really need to improve upon.

I am a work in progress. It gives me great anxiety. But I am fighting to fight it. And breathing. And trying to keep getting better. And forgiving myself.

Do you do this too?

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It is now Thursday morning and I feel like a different person today. I thought I’d let you know that in case you are like me. I’m going to try a new tactic next time anxiety hits like that. I’m going to project myself into the next day and know that I will be fine. And I will force myself to breathe.

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