It’s Friday night and I talked with Mountain Girl this evening. She is a balm. I needed her because these past few weeks have been horrible.
I told her how my anxiety feels physically painful and about the amount of weight I have lost because eating is difficult. My throat tightens and it’s hard to even drink water.
I told her that I felt like there is a saber tooth tiger at my shoulder and I can nearly feel one of those impossibly long teeth ready to bite down.
Let me just say that the motherfucker would have to work at that shit because my neck and shoulder muscles are so tight that my baby boy can’t work them out and he usually can get them in line.
Anyway, I feel like I am in physical danger and must run away.
Where? Where am I fucking running? I can’t outrun my goddamn brain and my goddamn brain is being a real asshole.
The only thoughts that I can grasp are just horrible circular thoughts. How bad my work issues are, how horrifying the consequences could (will, my brain insists the word should be “will”) be. I go to work, put my headphones on and deal with my shit, but the second I walk away, my brain begins the circular thoughts and they are scraping the inside of my brain like goddamned barbwire.
Something happened though, right before I talked with Mountain girl. I remembered something. A thought broke through those ugly, terrifying circular thoughts.
I remembered something essential.
I remembered something true.
I am a motherfucking bad ass.
A motherfucking bad ass.
Feeling panic during every waking hour for 2 weeks is torture. It is physically painful and nearly impossible to feel comfort of any kind.
Anxiety builds this harsh and cold coating that repels comfort.
Anxiety creates loneliness that is nearly unbearable.
I say nearly because I have to bear it. What choice is there? Giving up? Finding out how low I can sink? FUCK. THAT.
Fuck that. I’m not doing that because I am and I have always been a motherfucking bad ass.
My brain is forcing my body to react as if I am in imminent danger every waking moment.
Yet I get up, I go to work, I operate a car, I laugh and talk to people. I go about my day and I handle my shit all the while being attacked by my own brain. You know who does that? Motherfucking bad asses, that’s who. And when this episode passes, I will take strength from it. Because that’s the prize I get when I go through this. I get a little more strong.
By the time I post this, it is possible, actually it is likely, that I will be a quivering goddamn mess again.
I accept that.
Right now? Right now I remember that I am, and I have always been, a motherfucking bad ass.
I don’t care what happens next. I mean, I care, but I don’t. Because whatever happens is going to happen. I will survive that day and, the next one and the next one and, then this will be a memory.
I will most certainly lose this moment where I know I am a bad ass and feel comfortable and in less pain. But I also know I will get this moment back. I’ll get it back soon.
It hurts now. It feels impossible now, but I am getting this glimpse and I know what it means.
It means I win. Because my record of winning against bullshit anxiety and fucking depression is perfect. I take the long goddamn way sometimes, but I always win. Always.
I’m going to win this time, too.
I hope if you are feeling really bad now, you read this and you remember too. Remember, that you are a motherfucking bad ass.