Anxiety, Depression, and Bears, Oh My!

Okay, so maybe there aren’t really bears. I mean… there are bears, obviously, but not in my world. In my world, there is anxiety, depression, and everything that makes the two unbearable.
I had months where I was actively stressed about buying a house and not being able to afford Christmas for my children. When those two were done and in the past, I settled into this weird state where I still felt the anxiety, but didn’t have the thing to be anxious about. I was quiet for a while, not really wanting to talk as much as normal, and being sort of contemplative. I’ve mostly come out of that and for a while felt really quite… fine. Maybe even, dare I say, good.
Fast forward to today. I’m an anxious, depressed mess. Why?
My fucking shoe broke.
But also my mom doesn’t like my haircut and I’m still and will always be broke and a lady kept interrupting me and railroading me in a meeting, and I'll never get to buy my daughter her first bra because her dad already did it, and I’m frustra…

Be a Good Human

P.S. Can you have a prescript, as opposed to a postscript? Either way, I’m doing it. It’s been a while since I posted, I know. I’ve been in a really weird place. My mental health hasoverall been pretty good, though I’ve also been depressed – but it’s a weird kind of depressedwhere I’m typically in a good mood, but I also want to sleep constantly and often fantasizeabout getting hit by a bus - not because I’m suicidal or in a bad place. No, just so I have anexcuse to stay in bed for a few weeks. I guess my brain has been avoiding thinking about the deeper cause, so I’ve been avoiding writing. I’ll make it a point to try harder.
And now, on with the show!
Hello, and welcome to the tour you never knew you needed about pronouns, queerness, and anxiety.
Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle during the ride, note the lack of exits, and make
yourself comfortable, because this is a long ride. Is that “Hotel California” playing in the background?? To recap, I am an advisor for the LGB…

My Arms Are Just for Show Now

Part of having anxiety is being afraid to ask for help. Mostly it’s because I don’t want to be an inconvenience, but I also have an intense fear of rejection. What if I asked and they said no?! I’d die, probably.
This covers everything from needing to borrow money to needing help hanging a medicine cabinet. It extra covers needing help with my mental state, but that’s a whole other blog post.
I usually end up mentioning what I need help with in hopes that someone will offer to help, even though that’s a chicken way to go about it. My ex couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just come right out and ask. I just can’t! Anxiety won’t let me!
Today this particular aspect of anxiety hit me hard, twice.
Yesterday one of the bosses asked for my help with something. They’re having students volunteer to come in and speak with our vendor about one of our websites so we know what needs to be improved. The boss man has an appointment and couldn’t make it to some of these interviews, so he asked …

Throwing Eggs Does Not End a Panic Attack

I’ve never enjoyed cooking. I have ADHD so I have a hard time following recipes – my eyes jump around on the page and I always end up skipping a step. Making it up as I go doesn’t work either – When I look at all the food in the pantry, I see ingredients, but my brain doesn’t put them all together in a way that would make a dish.
While cooking I get myself so worked up because I’m afraid of failing. I’m afraid of ruining someone’s meal, so I work myself into a panic attack. Of course I didn’t realize that’s what was happening until about a decade ago. Before that, I thought cooking just made me angry.
I’ll never forget the time my first husband threw eggs at me because I was cooking and upset. I was making breakfast and it wasn’t going my way, as usual. In retrospect, I was obviously having a panic attack, but all he saw was that I was in a bad mood. I handed him his plate of eggs and bacon and walked back to the kitchen. While walking across the room, he threw the plate at me. It …

Validating the Anxiety

I’m not lazy, I have anxiety.
I’m not antisocial, I have anxiety.
I’m not a bitch, I have anxiety.
Okay, so sometimes I can be a bitch… but chances are good that anxiety has at least a little something to do with it. And honestly, I try so hard to be kind.
You might think I use anxiety as an excuse or a crutch. And maybe I do sometimes. But I also struggle to overcome it a lot more than you know. 9/10 times I try to beat anxiety, I fail. But sometimes, on that tenth try, I succeed and I’m on top of the world. Then someone criticizes something about me and I’m right back to square one.
I’ve always been overly sensitive, ever since I was a child. Hell, ever since I was an infant. Turns out a good chunk of that is caused by anxiety. Any bad thing you could think about me, I promise you I’ve had thoughts ten times worse – daily. And when you say it, the anxiety is validated, and I believe everything it says.
Sometimes I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and ignore them, bu…

I got what I want... why am I crying?

The above picture is an excellent portrayal of how far I’ve gotten with packing. My youngest built a box fort while my eldest played on her phone. Meanwhile, I was going in and out of the house bringing empty boxes in and taking filled boxes to the car.

I’m in a weird place today. When my husband said he wanted a divorce over a year ago, I was crushed. For months I felt lost and hopeless. I lost the home I’d lived in for nearly ten years, mine and my childrens’ lives were turned upside down, and I felt like a complete failure.

Since then I have worked so hard to improve my situation. I got a new job, I moved several times before renting the trailer I’ve been in for a year (the first place I’ve ever had on my own), I got a new job, and have worked hard to improve my credit score.

I’m happy with where my life is right now.

I decided I could have lower monthly payments (and SO much more room) if I owned instead of rented, and have worked for months to make that a reality. It’s been hard…

The Ripple Effect

I’m going through one of the most anxiety-riddled times of my life right now. The stress of purchasing a house on my own (and constantly being terrified of something ruining the whole thing) and the stress of being poor during the holidays (and being terrified of disappointing my children on Christmas) is rippling out and making my everyday normal anxieties ten times bigger.
Anxiety is always telling me that people don’t really like me. They’re just being nice and pretending so they don’t hurt my feelings. Why would anyone like me? I’m boring, antisocial, needy, and riddled with anxiety. We call these brain weasels.Usually we can fight off brain weasels with logic, and they’re not a huge deal. But with all this additional stress and anxiety, my brain weasels have been running amok. So much so, that I decided everyone I’m closest to – friends, family, and significant others, would all be better off without me.
I honestly didn’t realize what I’d been doing. This is a brain weasel I’v…