Saturday, September 11, 2010

What the butt is going on?

I'm so angry right now.

I don't get it.  I don't get my mind and why it woke me up three times last night, and why that was the third night of nonsense.  I don't get why sleep is harder to catch than a greased pig, lately.  I don't get it.  I don't get why when I did wake up, I was FULL BATSHIT CRAZY, one hundred miles an hour, my mind and nervous system convinced that I was taking my place on stage just seconds before the curtain went up.  I don't get it because there's no curtain, just a skinny dog on the floor passing gas and a skinny E snoring into my right ear.  There's just me, realizing that my goal to sleep in and thus sleep off some of this week was slashed to bits by a fluke of the emotional/mental/physical connect.  I hate anxiety.

The thing is that God doesn't send you (me) a text message about anxiety and what's making you feel The Crazies.  So you (I) just lay there and feel crazy and there is NO REASON FOR IT, which makes you more crazy.  And people who don't get anxiety don't get this because to them sleep is sleep and nervousness is actual nervousness--you know, like if a bear is chasing them or some crap--and they just look at those of us with wonky spine tingles like get over yourself.  But that's not really what I want to write about anyway because it wasn't like I was laying there feeling judged or anything; it was just me in the dark listening to my heart beat like that of a scared rabbit.

Why?  I bet scared rabbits don't even like scared rabbits.

Is it Marms' death?  Am I just feeling crazy and sad because I miss my cat, the one being that belonged solely to me and was my personal (and socially acceptable) living blankie?  Is it the animal/touch thing I'm missing as a release of Crazy (anxiety) and so it's building in me like steam in an espresso machine?  I have no idea.  There are never clear answers with this for me, only the acceptance that less sleep = more Crazies, and eating poorly = more Crazies and not petting a cat often enough = more Crazies and not running all week = more Crazies and I can tell you I'm four for four with that list.  When I think of the times when I was most anxious in my life it generally had to do with some giant unresolved thing (and more specifically this was almost always a giant unresolved thing between me and E) that I might not have even known was bothering me.  But nothing is really bothering me or going unacknowledged, so far as I can acknowledge.  Ha.

The reality is that nobody gives (and it doesn't matter) one flying fig what's making it happen, it's just happening.  My upper arms feel three times their weight and my pinkies feel tingly.  My heart is pumping blood like I'm being observed teaching for an evaluation.  My skin is electric and my muscles are walking the eerie dichotomy between feeling tightly wound like a spring and simultaneously full of dread.  I am ready to run ten miles and also ready to sleep ten hours.  I want to scream and hide.  Anxiety feels heavy, but it also feels like vomit recently expelled.  It's thin and watery and irritating, like a rash on my lungs.  I want to shed this suit of Crazies so I can find my weekend peace.

And so I enter the phase of a Crazies day wherein I wait it out.  This means nothing will get done, I won't be capable of talking to anyone in any kind of rational manner, and I won't feel like this was time I get to count toward "weekend."  Another thing I've come to realize about these Crazies of mine is that fighting them only makes them worse and makes them last longer.  I might go for a run, I might sit in a hot bath for an hour.  I'm not really feeling enthused about either one since my big plan this morning was to shut my eyes to the world and do that thing where you wake up but you pretend you're still sleeping so you can center your thoughts dreamily on whatever happy thing floats your boat.  I guess that's out the window, huh?  For now I sit here on the couch paralyzed into inaction by this weirdness.  Maybe by this afternoon I'll have come down from 10 to about a 4 and I can take a nap.

I sure hope you're having a Crazies-free day.

In case you don't know what I'm talking about when I say "The Crazies" or you just can't get enough of my anxiety-induced whining, here are some other wild and crazy posts:

Short Run + Excuses + Update
The Crazies.  Yes, again.
No Crazies.
Birthday Party for an Introvert
Bad Day Yesterday

And then once you read my full catalog of nutso, go read something else on this blog so you don't assume that's all that I am.  That might make me crazy.

(I'll be back later today with a 100 Things I Love post, but I had to get this out first.)

2 comments:

  1. Sorry about your crazies. I highly recommend listening to those anxiety podcasts. Also, go for a walk. Visit a Petsmart and ask to snuggle with their kitties. Write down every thing that is bothering you...and then counteract with a why and what is the worst that could happen.

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  2. My husband had VERY similar issues a few years ago and our pastor and his wife let him borrow Praying God's Word by Beth Moore (we think). It helped tremendously. Maybe it can help you too?

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