The things that anxiety makes me do cause so much shame.
Tonight, it is boiling up inside of me. I can taste it…and it makes me feel sick.
In moments of panic, I am weak. I reach out. I say what is on my mind because I no longer–in that moment–have the strength to pretend to be okay. I am too focused on trying to remember to breathe. On trying to convince myself that I am not going to die from panic.
I feel, in that moment, like I just need help.
I have gotten SO MUCH better at dealing with anxiety. I have had fewer and fewer panic attacks over the last year and, when I have had them, I have mostly been able to cope and breathe my way through them.
Not so much the last week.
God, I am utterly exhausted.
I have realized, how absolutely terrified I am to lose my support people. And, I have realized how absolutely alone I feel without them.
Today was rough. I had to call the Department of Health and Human Services as a mandatory reporter for one of my students. Thankfully, my call will warrant an investigation, but I am feeling stressed for the poor student and anxious over the mentally unstable actions of the parent. Cops were at the school because of it during parent pick up time and I just felt my anxiety go through the roof.
I recognized, immediately, the beginning of an anxiety attack forming. I headed back to my classroom and sat at my desk, unable to focus on any productive work. Forgetting my lessons plans, I decided to finally just call a friend. Just talking about anything else will help, I thought.
The phone rang and went to voicemail…as so many of my phone calls have over the last week. Not just with this one friend…but with all 3 of my good friends.
I sat the phone down and started to cry. I just needed someone.
Now, I know that life has been busy for everyone. FOR REAL. I know. I understand. Logically, I totally get this.
But, it triggers a huge fear response. I begin to really worry, especially if I normally frequently talk to my friends, that they are not answering for a reason. A reason I don’t understand. Did I do something? Am I too much? Oh my god…they are so tired of me. They can’t handle me. They want a break, but they don’t want to tell me. I have to just figure it out. They are too nice to say it. What if ….? How will I go to …? I will never be able to show my face again.
I try to fight the self-talk. I really do.
I try to interact in a normal way. But the insecurity mounts and I end up letting the person know, in some way, that I am worried.
I need reassurance.
Except, I don’t know how to directly ask for the things I need. I don’t say I would really like to see you and just visit. Or, Can I come over and just sit with you?
No, I worry that I am pushing myself on them by doing that. I believe, at this point, that they are already trying to get away from me. So I try to read the boundaries they are putting in place–only, I’m super sensitive…often reading into way more than I should.
God, you have no idea how much I hate this absolute spiral.
How much I hate myself for doing it.
I am ashamed.
I am embarrassed.
I so desperately want to be loved and wanted and needed.
Yet, I just can’t seem to trust that anyone would ever want to love me, want me, or need me. Not after they get to know the real me…the one who needs to be reassured and the one who can’t seem to ever just GET. IT. TOGETHER.
I am falling. Deeper and deeper and deeper into this stupid hole.