One Panic Attack at a Time

Photo by  Ian Schneider  on  Unsplash A few weeks ago, I was bored. I claim to be an introvert, but I often feel the need to chat with people to occupy myself. I recently had a conversation about the possibility that I’m just a really shy and anxious extrovert. Is that a thing? So, I was bored and decided I wanted to chat with some new people, so I activated my dormant OK Cupid account. I was sure to mention on my profile that I was primarily interested in conversation, but was open to that leading to more. I mentioned my love of Stephen King and Doctor Who, and that immediately asking for sex will get you blocked. A handful of people messaged me (I hear the experience is quite different if you are male) and I responded to each of them, quickly weeding out those who immediately started asking for sex – did they not read the part about conversation, or do they just not care?! Probably both. People can be pigs. This process brings out zero anxiety. I’m hiding safe

Photo by  Elijah O'Donell  on  Unsplash   I used to have the news playing in the background in the mornings while I got ready for work. I would half pay attention while getting dressed, but mostly I was listening for traffic updates for my trek to Cincinnati through miles of highway traffic. I eventually had to stop this morning ritual because stories about mothers murdering their children and people being assaulted in their homes became too much for me and my anxiety to bear. I won’t even get into what news of President Cheetoface McTwitterThumbs does to my anxiety. Who am I kidding, yes I will. I love horror movies. The more it fucks with your head and makes you see monsters in the shadows, the better. But nothing scares me more than children in peril. I’ve heard A Quiet Place is masterful, but there’s no way I could watch it – it’s nothing but children in peril. Sadly, that’s what the news has become. There are stories about mothers drowning their children in th

Photo by  Allen Taylor  on  Unsplash I don’t live with friends well. If it’s a significant other, it’s fine. But living with friends in a purely roommate situation has never gone well for me. When my husband left me, I was terrified of living on my own. I’d lived in a two-income household for decades and knew I couldn’t afford to support myself on my own. A good friend offered for me and the kids to move in with her. I thought it was the perfect situation – she had two spare rooms, the house was close to my parents, and she and I had always gotten along famously. She was also going through a split-up, so we could support one another during this time. Best of all, my portion of rent and utilities was very affordable. It started off great – she let me pick the paint color for my bedroom. She helped me move in. I wasn’t allowed to bring my cat because she already had two cats and didn’t want to cause problems with them, and I conceded to this. I didn’t like it, but I unde

Photo by  Jonas Vincent  on  Unsplash Within the past week, I came frighteningly close to saying “fuck it all” and becoming a recluse. I’d been fighting with my boyfriend and got into an argument with my best friend (because why piss off only one person, when you can piss off everyone close to you?!) I sat in my house, all alone, thinking without these two people in my life, I would probably never go out. Then I thought fine. Maybe that’s for the best. I could just stay in my crappy little house with my cat and Netflix forever until I die. Then my cat would eat me. Yeah, I get morbid, I know. I worked through my problems and made up with the two people I’m closest to. All is well. Then I decided to get a dog. I’ve been thinking about it for months. I’ve always loved dogs and had a Jack Russell, Libby, that died tragically at age 14. She was my baby. She was with me through three marriages, countless illnesses & diagnoses, depression, and panic attacks.

Photo by  rawpixel  on  Unsplash I’ve had quite a few really toxic, bad relationships. It’s hard to truly let go of the feelings you experience during those relationships – especially the fear that it’ll happen again. Sometimes, without even realizing you’re doing it, you look for signs of past relationship downfalls in current relationships. Sometimes this behavior can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I have been dating my current partner for quite a while. We very rarely fight. When we do, it doesn’t last more than a day. Except for this time. This time, it lasted for a solid week. I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty of what started it, but it’s a topic that’s come up in my previous relationships – especially the toxic ones I mentioned. I’ve spent the past week sure that this guy was just like the others, despite so much evidence to the contrary. I feel it is important to point out that most of our arguing was over text message. I know this is a bad id

Photo by  Chris Barbalis  on  Unsplash   I’m having a really rough week. Except, I’ve been saying that for weeks now, so I’m obviously having a rough month… or year… or life… I feel like I’m living Murphy’s Law. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I seem to be caught in this cycle of depression and everyday anxiety. The depression hangs around for a while. It gets better, it goes away. Something catastrophic happens, anxiety goes into overdrive, depression comes back. Lather, rinse, repeat. No matter what I do, I can’t make everyone happy. I feel like a failure as a friend, girlfriend, daughter, mother, and employee. I need a vacation from my head.

Photo by  Sydney Sims  on  Unsplash I have been slacking on the posts the last two weeks! It’s been a rollercoaster. I think I’m out of the woods with the depression, so that’s good. Don’t worry though, Anxiety is still hanging on strong! Rewind to two weeks ago: My grandpa passed away. You know, as you get older, it happens. But that doesn’t make it any easier. He was such a sweet old man, and I hate that he was alone when he passed. My heart breaks for him. So along with that came breaking the news to my young children – my daughter bawled – and dealing with relatives. I’m not super close with my extended family. I have nothing in common with most of them. It’s not a bad thing, I love them, I’m just much more liberal than them, and queer. We don’t talk about my queerness. Or politics. All of this brought out the anxiety, but everything went fairly smoothly, and my anxiety was put at ease.I learned a lot about transporting a deceased relative across state lines. So