Anxiety. I have a lot of it.
No, it’s not doctor diagnosed, but I know I do. Let me tell you why.
About a month ago I went to the doctor to ask about my increasing head aches. I wasn’t sleeping and wasn’t eating. It was around the time I came out to my best friend. I know that was mainly the problem. Also the working two jobs. Once that passed I was ok.
But even before then I have always known there has been something else. I’ve never really paid attention to it but now it has come to a point where I need it to stop.
I know I have anxiety. I do not know of what kind.
Let me explain.
I hate parties. I hate social interactions. I don’t like talking to knew people. I don’t like being the center of attention. Why? I have no clue, but when this things do happen when I can’t avoid them at all costs, I get hot, sweaty, red in the face like a tomato, I don’t know what to do with my hands, and my heart pumps so hard I can feel it through my fingers.
I over think. I know I’ve said this before and I’ll repeat it again because it’s true. The emphasis can not be placed on it enough.
I think about everything. What do they think of me? Are they whispering about me? Why are they laughing? Should I double check my zipper? Why haven’t they texted back? Do they find me boring? Who are they texting? Why do they avoid me? Why are they like that? Why am I like this? Why can’t I stop?
Every little word of anybody I will over analyze. I will take that thought with me, tuck it in bed, and sleep with it till the sun comes back up and then I’ll carry it around until it weighs me down.
I worry about every little thing, even after it as been assured to me that everything is ok. I’m so into my thoughts sometimes I’m not focused and make clueless mistakes.
I feel like I’m in a box. On the inside I see life pass by and I knock on the glass walls screaming for help, crying out waving my hands back and forth. But when people look over, all they see is an old moldy decaying cardboard box.
I know I need help. Tomorrow I’m going to call a counselor at my clonic to see if he can help me. I’m tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of carrying what people say about me. So how do I make it all stop.