Damn, Those Roosting Chickens
By The Misfit | March 5, 2009
The other day I told a friend of mine that I didn’t know how I always managed to shoot myself in the foot then wonder why I hobble around like a cripple.
After giving the matter some thought, though, I realized that I do know damn well why: my stupid annoying effing out-of-control anxiety attacks. The mortification I feel about that is far worse than the mortification I felt when I made a complete ass out of myself last weekend. And trust me – I hit the jackassery jackpot. I almost feel like I hit the lottery. If there was a lottery for ridiculous, neurotic over-reactions.
I’ve never made any bones that I have anxiety attacks – 19 years of them – but it’s always been an off-the-cuff sort of acknowledgment; one that removes any emotional effects from the equation. I long ago made myself numb to them when around other people choosing to save the real hysterics for when I’m alone. Which worked great until the age of email and the addiction to instant gratification outlets for my pent-up frustration when the stressies get overwhelming. Email has become my self-sabotage weapon of choice.
The irony is that I thought I had the damn thing under control – I very rarely ever have an actual panic attack (thank God for small favors) and the constant generalized anxiety I deal with on a daily basis has simply become part of my personality. But I realized something this past weekend: I despise this part of who I am. While I’ve never exactly been perky, I used to wake up looking forward to whatever adventures the day would provide and jump right in. Now I’m lucky if I can talk myself into something that even remotely resembles motivation. My sense of humor, warped as it is, has all but disappeared. I’m far too serious, I take things personally when I have no reason to do so, and I feel far older than I should. Worst of all, it’s exceptionally difficult on my relationships – especially those who have seen me change from someone who reveled in flying by the seat of her pants to the freaked out, neurotic I am now.
Well, it ends now. Not only will I not exist like this any more (I can’t even call what I’ve been doing the past 10 years or so “living”); I refuse to continue to subject my victims friends and family to the chaos brought about because I’ve ignored taking care of this when I should have.
Thursdays are now dedicated as (Psycho) Therapy Thursdays. I’m counting on you guys to keep me honest. If you’ve ever had anxiety attacks or know someone who has let me know what’s worked for you (them). I’m open to any suggestions.
You can leave a comment or send an email to keiti (at) misplacedmisfit (dot) com.
Topics: (psycho) therapy thursdays, the misfit life | No Comments »