Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Angsty Angsterson

Photo on 11-8-11 at 6.08 PM

I can feel it comin' in the air tonight... oh Lord...

What's "it"?  You know.  My Crazies.  (I know you were picturing Mike Tyson doing an air-drum solo.  It's okay.)

I can just... tell.  Every once in a while things build up until they're crazy-making and then I have to do the whole cray cray thing for a day or two.

I can't blame it on school work or stress, because shit is getting done around here.  Like, for real.  I think it's just how I'm built, really.  My body must need the release of a good anxiety attack.  After a while I'll do something or say something or hear something that doesn't sit right and I have to carry it around with me and think it and then re-think it and chew on it until I'm a bit nuts.



Life is pretty normal, as far as our normal goes.  I'll admit I've been working harder than I'd like to be working to deal with some behavior issues in one of my freshman classes.  It's making me so tired by the time I get home each night.  And--of course--when that's the case the monkeys always seem to be hopped up on five pounds each of Halloween candy and they can't manage to leave each other alone.  Henry's also in the middle of this weird stage where he's confessing all the bad things he's done for, like, the last two or three months.  He has a totally guilty conscience, so most of our interaction lately consists of him asking if he can tell me something and then him backing up the behavior truck to just unload.  And then I spend a lot of time asking why he doesn't just not do the thing he knows is bad in the first place.  For once our marriage is not the issue, which is nice.  E and I have been (knock wood) totally getting along.  A steady job and steady income can't be written off as contributing factors, there, but I also have to say that I know he's being really considerate when it comes to my MFA work.

Anyway.  None of that regular life stuff is really a big deal, but tonight when I got home from my after-school meeting I changed into my sweats and lay down on Henry's bed to talk to Ad... and then when she left (and I continued to lay there for no good reason at all) I started to feel the unmistakable signs of Crazy creeping through my body--heavy upper arms, tingly fingers, an icky heaviness in my chest, a sense of dread and a total unwillingness to GET UP or move.  That's helpful, Body, since I was planning to do about two to three hours of writing tonight.

In an effort to tell myself to knock it the freak off, I'm not letting myself crawl into a cave to hibernate.  But I want to.  Man, I want to indulge the feeling to sleep and to hide.  Every cell in my body is asking if we can just make that happen.  I wish I could say I was anxious because of something I could pin my finger on, but it doesn't really work that way.  It's always a waiting game, a little bit of just letting it happen and trying not to fight it until--BINGO--I will realize what I was trying to avoid or not deal with that created the Crazies in the first place.  And sometimes it is just for no good reason at all.

And that, my friends, is kind of lame.

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