Jan 9

My anxiety picks odd times to flare up and remind me it exists.

I don’t think I help the situation by feeding into the insanity, but it’s the loudest voice I have ever heard and it’s INSIDE my head…so it’s almost impossible to ignore.

I read the obituaries. I used to think I did it to see if I knew anyone that passed away but now I think I do it to gauge how much longer I have to live before I start to fall apart and die.

Every headache is a stroke. 

Every time my fingers are swollen I think it means my kidneys are failing.

When I wake up with a sore back or achy muscles I think it’s the prelude to a heart attack.

I can never just get dressed and go out. I have to swallow back a thousand WHAT IF’S first.

If I go out alone, The phone can never just ring because the kids didn’t hear it, it’s always because something horrible has happened and my mind conjures up the most hideous outcomes. 

Insomnia is a brain tumor.

My eczema is the beginnings of anaphylactic shock.

My numb toes are diabetes.

My fibro flares are something much more intense and eventually I will be completely debilitated and unable to care for myself.

Having a boken brain means I can never just DO something the easy way.

I have to psych myself up to do even the simplest of tasks. 

And by the time I finally convince myself I will be okay…that EVERYTHING will be okay…I’m so exhausted I don’t even want to do anything.

I am struggling to push past this disorder and just love myself, but my fear is holding my heart hostage and I am so tired.

So. Tired.