I had a bad anxiety attack today.
I wasn't going to blog about this because it was pretty messed up. But I'm a hypocritical attention seeking bastard or something, but that's to be expected when for the last three to four months you've had weeks where you don't have any reason to speak.
OK, most of you are familiar with my nervous breakdown. For those who don't know, a nervous breakdown isn't just a once off where you put shoes on your hands and scream about how none of it makes any sense.
Oh no, it's more like being in the middle of your body panicking itself into cardiac arrest spontaneously and your mind beginning to scream about how very little of the world's crap is justified, including you... that and it tends to drag on for a month and a bit... and counting.
Yeah, another self indulgent post, but this is all I can think of right now to stop me doing things I'm pretty sure I'll regret.
So here's the lowdown... Hmmm, this all started after a pretty rough week. Rough because it started with a Sunday. One of THOSE Sundays, you know them. Well, I let this Sunday run all week, I don't know anyone at uni... still... kind of sad, but meh, been there before, I live, it's cool (Duh, because I'm so stoic and fantastic and stuff and things). My parents were just being their usual awkward, 'Oh-you're-so-problematic-and-likely-the-devil's-child' selves... so the less said about trippin' balls in lectures the better. But oh, the days of horizontal wall people become sorely missed.
Well, I was basically doing my thing, giving up on assignments, avoiding eye contact, writing in my therapeutic nightmare notebook and genuinely being a borderline autistic jerk to anyone who so much as looked at me. The normal deal for those who are used to tolerating my 'eccentricities'.
Alright, my life ain't sunshine, lollipops and rainbows everywhere. And it's not going to be. I accepted a long time ago that wearing a facade for four hundred 'close' friends wasn't my way of doing things. Compromise has managed to worm it's way out of my vocabulary as well. Basically, I give a person a minute. If you can't somewhat entertain me or I can't come up with anything to say to you that doesn't leave me scowling and clutching for something sharp to sink into the side of my finger or genitals, then so long, it wouldn't work out.
Goddamnit, being too irritatingly stereotypical, point is, I was asking for this to happen... And well, I think I like it. Occasionally.
OK, now this is getting awkward, the room doesn't seem real and I think I'm gonna throw up. No, I am gonna throw up.
Basically this is the perfect example of your body's contribution to the nervous breakdown. It says, you need to get out of here or I'll really make you look like a moron in front of people. I seem to be spending too much time in toilet cubicles at uni playing guessing games with my body and trying to predict whether it wants to just puke itself inside out, or just cramp up my stomach, or maybe just a nice little, searing bitch of a headache.
Well today I was in a tute... trying to hyperventilate because it looks better than randomly slamming your lower body because you're getting this huge numb sensation all over it. I sit at the back naturally. Well, it got to much... I got out of the room and bolted for the toilets. I didn't throw up, like usual, but the sensation is so undescribably real. It sounds stupid but your body just says, get out of here, I don't care if I have to piss you silly or make your fingers so numb you can't hold a pen. Naturally you panic, leave, and nothing. It's just a sensation. I'm not throwing up and collapsing in a heap, it just feels like I am. You know, that sounds great, your body's just playing tricks on you, but it's unbearable, infuriating, even maddening.
Today I started to get the, 'You're insane, you know?' with that growing edge of actual fear. Everyone hits that stage, when they realise, hang on, you're not completely right. Yeah probably not, but I get diagnosed or anything, and my world falls apart quicker than I can mutter about how none of you understand you're wasting your lives with bureaucracy, money, looking the same and identifying yourself in nomenclature's damning cage.
Thing is, it's really quite terrifying. I've taken on the appearance of a harried junkie now. In all honesty, I've been tempted. To just find something to sedate everything and stop the world moving so fast. But I don't think substances will help. That's kind of why I've been so annoyingly strict with my sobriety lately and not touching anything. Because then it'll all go to hell something fast. It's a coping mechanism though. It's horrible but comforting at the same time. It seems to just rationalise everything. More and more becomes acceptable. Self criticism takes the back seat and lets you just leave when you think it's getting too hot in the kitchen. Also becomes fine to just talk about impenetrable nonsense for no reason...
Well, I dunno why I'm writing this, maybe another classic method of holding people at arms length through terror, maybe to avoid sleep so I don't have to wake up to a job I'm not being paid for and was relegated to in a barely concealed attempt of my father's to mould me into everything I've learned to loathe. Maybe it was because, in reality, this is the only goddamn thing I have left. I suppose majority of people who wrote to eat were just doing the only job a nutjob can take.
Oh and before I forget, given recent posts, I didn't want to look like I was saying 'Hey look at me! I've got issues too!'... maybe I was just inspired to explain away erratic behaviour or something... which given the quality, it does appear so... Hell, tonight was just a 'write because I can' deal, because I can't see much else with a modicum of rationality any more.
Well, goodbye for now... might as well wave off some of those chunks of sanity I seem to be hurling up, as well. I think? Because I'm tired of knowing things... I'd rather hate to think right now
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