The pain of being anxious

Ok, warning sign. The following lines are going to be very personal. If you don’t want to hear me whimper, press Alt +F4 and come back next week. Really. This is all going to be annoying anxiety crisis shit. And if you’re down and you need comfort (in some way), take a seat.

Once, I said here that maybe someday I’d be posting something about feeling bad and stuff. There we go. I know that it might be inappropriate. This is a very personal issue that none but myself should know about. Slanderous tongues might say that I’m making a spectacle of myself. And they’re probably right. Because I need the attention. Because I don’t feel like I want/can talk about it to a specific person. But I need to speak up. Because it’s eating me from the inside and writing it down is my kind of therapy. I’ve never been very good at talking. I always avoid debates and embarrassing talks, because I just can’t control myself from crying in those situations. High sensitivity problems. Hypersensitivity problems even, I think.

So yes, I need to speak up. To speak up about how I feel right now. And it’s not good. I cried all day long. Yey. Great atmosphere. I cried because of lot of things. But mainly because I feel insecure. Most of the time, I can handle that. I live with that and it’s ok. And sometimes, the pressure is so unbearable that I suddenly burst into tears.

I am afraid. All the time. Anytime. I am anxious. I fear loneliness. And I accept loneliness. I know that I am alone. That we all are. But I feel the need to hope, to have the illusion that maybe we are not. If several people feel lonely at the same time, are they still lonely, even if they don’t even know the existence of each other? That type of hope.

I can’t stand feeling abandoned. Even for stupid things, like when we’re going at the cinema, and I’m late, and they say “we’ll be waiting for you inside and keep you a seat”. It makes me want to cry. I know it’s selfish, but I need them to wait for me so that we could go all together in the theater. Yes, I fear loneliness that much. Told you it was stupid. But I need it. Or I instantly feel attacked, I withdraw into myself, I have a heavy heart and I start an anxiety crisis.

I need to feel reassured all the time. I need family/friends/love to tell me all the time that I am great or more than that. I need approval. Attention whore? Probably. Low self-esteem? For sure. I need the kind words. I need the encouragement. I need people to be tolerant at their highest point. There’s just one word to be said or not said, one move to be done or not done, and it’s all fucked up.

The saddest thing is that I know where all that comes from and I don’t manage to defeat my demons. Which of course makes me feel worse. I try. I try so hard. Or maybe don’t I? Maybe I’m too weak. Maybe I’m actually all wrong about it and I’m just being psychotic. Maybe I shouldn’t fight and accept this statement instead, because I actually can’t change it. Whatever the answer is, I always end up with an anxiety crisis. My head burns, my body shakes, my eyes impersonate the Niagara falls, I have difficulties to breath, I sometimes am nauseous and I feel like I’m going to explode in thousand pieces.

You see the ending of those big crisis thing : Life ruined. Self-destruction tendency. Well, nothing physical. I mean, no voluntary physical injure. I suspect this constant anxiety of affecting my physical health though. I’m always sick. When I’m not, it’s like something extraordinary just happened. They almost give me a slap on the back when I’m in good health. But apart from that, the self-destruction rather concerns my social life. I withdraw into myself, almost lapsing into silence. I stop talking, build an armor of silence and start to lose contact with the world. I also lose appetite and sleep. Thus, I lose concentration and motivation. I spend my days asking myself the same questions, and one in particular : “when did it go wrong?”. For days. For weeks. For months.

I’m tired, but I still try to relieve myself of it.

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Intervention

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