Anxiety

I may have mentioned, a time or two, that I have anxiety issues.

In fact, I think a couple of my tags deal specifically with anxiety (hoarding, work, nameless faceless ones) and anxiety-related minutiae (stress, awkwardness, freaking out).

I don't know where my assorted anxieties sprang from, nor when they will strike. Sometimes, they are logical (anything related to the Crane & Sheep Festival, for instance), but most of the time they come out of nowhere and blindside me.

Today was a perfect example. Brittany's family is leaving town, and they were having a get together. It started in the afternoon and carried on into the evening.

I couldn't go.

Every time I thought about putting on a clean shirt and walking over there, I started to panic. I tried breathing exercises. I burned incense. I reminded myself over and over that I am friendly with Brittany and Chris, that Matt and Kara were over there, that I hadn't been invited for the sole purpose of people making fun of me or reading my secret diary* or poking me with hatpins. It just wasn't helping.

Finally, I rallied my strength around 8:00, and started the walk over to their house. With every step, the anxiety grew. When I finally got to their house, I kept walking. I walked into the golf course, into a thicket of trees, and stood there, almost in tears. I stood there for almost ten minutes, just listening to the trees and focusing on breathing.

I did eventually make it into the house. I sat on a chair and listened to the conversations going on around me. I initially turned down the offer of a drink, because I was afraid I would start shaking or knock it over. I think I was there half an hour before I accepted a glass of water. I didn't eat anything (which is a shame, because some of the dessert-type-things looked amazing).

No one poked me with hatpins. My diary remains unread. Maybe they made fun of me after I went home, although I seriously doubt that.

There's a note scrawled on my refrigerator - I wrote it back in 2009, after a conversation I had with my sister Hezz, long before I came here. It says, "I'm always surprised by how quickly a conversation about how I'm not comfortable in social settings can degenerate into, 'Maybe you need to see a psychiatrist.' So quickly!"

I don't know, maybe I do need to see a psychiatrist. Until then, I guess I'll just keep trying to slay the demons on my own.


*Yes, I have a secret diary. No, I'm not telling you what's in it.