A Little Off


Well… Well I was kind of hoping that writing about how I’ve been feeling would help. 

Something happened. THE trigger. 

I can’t… I’m angry. I’m scared. I’m fucking all over the place. And I’m getting angry at every little thing. 

Or if I try to explore my feelings… Or something comes up that nudges a memory related to THE TRIGGER… I’m… 

Look. My throat is starting to close up and my chest kind of feels like a heavy brick is beginning to lean on me. 

Deep breaths, stay in the present. 

Aaaaaand my mom turned on the news and my brain kinda exploded there for a second. 

My dad’s a fucking alcoholic. 

There. I said it. 

Fucking fuck fucker. 

What a fucking asshole. 


Heavily Medicated

Today was the second day that — per my doctor’s instruction — I have taken Xanax on the regular throughout the day. He advised 3xs throughout the day, but it’s more like 5 or more. 

On one hand I’m a lot more equipped to handle difficult situations and I’m happy to report that the intensity of my attacks have decreased somewhat. Basically, I don’t feel like the world is going to cave in around me all the fucking time anymore. 

Do I feel like a total drug junkie? Yeah, kinda, but I know right now with what I going through sometimes I’m going to need that extra help that all my meds provide. 

Progress ahoy! 

Thoughts on a Few Things

So I had double back-to-back appointments with my psychiatrist and then my therapist about getting me on partial disability. This basically means that I can only work 20 hours a week instead of full time. 

And apparently I have to take Xanax on the regular throughout the day. 

So far it seems to be working, but like the sessions before it my therapy has shaken me. 

Without getting into specifics (because frankly they still send me into a mild panic), I’ve been… Gently suggested I actually think on what was said in the session. Accurately assessed, my therapist pointed out my tendency to stuff everything in a box. 

It’s hard. 

It’s hard to think about why I have habits the way I do, it’s hard to even decide to BEGIN to let go. 

Worst of all, it’s hard to give myself credit for all the good I do now and how strong I’ve been to develop the coping skills I have. 

It got me choked up just to write that and I can feel the electric nausea of anxiety. 

So basically I’m trying. 

I’m trying and I’m not going to stop trying until I get to my find my slice of peace and joy. 

A Fire Update

It’s just after 1 a.m. and for the first time in a few days I feel refreshed and able to function as a human being. I went to bed around 8 last night so I didn’t fight the urge too much when I saw the time. I admit, I did put on a guided meditation track that was starting to do the trick, but I kind of said, “fuck it.”

The fire is still raging where I am, but we’re safe and never had to be evacuated. We did foster two dogs, a cat, and we currently still have two horses in our back pasture. I’m very thankful for all the firefighters and volunteers who stepped up because damn dude. THAT’S A LOT OF FUCKING FIRE.

I was a wreck Sunday because I woke up anxious and then add that holy shit the fire is close… pack! You might be evacuated! Make sure to pack for the dogs! Oh my gawd, now we’re getting more animals. Holycrapholycrapholycrapholycrap

And that’s basically how Sunday went.

The evacuation area was literally one exit south from us on the freeway, which was scary as fuck on its own but then we had people banding together and helping each other out and just a level of social interaction that made my anxiety flare up even more. (Hint: we took in house guests due to the fire)

So I hid under my blankets heavily medicated until my presence was absolutely necessary.


Monday was *a little* better, but not by much in the morning. Thankfully, around 2pm ish the part of my brain that gets fuzzy feelings from being under pressure came alive.

Did I ever mention I was kind of an adrenaline junky before my anxiety hit? Oh yeah, 180 personality tendencies are weird.

Anyway, I went outside and spent time with the horses and brushed their ash-filled coats. It was hot so I think I only spent an hour or less outside, but it was the best feeling in the world.

And then I puttered around the house.

The only thing I did notice was I couldn’t seem to do my laundry for fear that I was, “taking water away from the firefighters”. A ridiculous notion, I know (and if anyone who works in water municipals knows that it was a founded fear, please don’t tell me. I don’t know how I would cope).

It wasn’t until I read that most everyone from the evacuated area could come home that I was like, oh, OKAY. Doing laundry might be okay now. But I was too tired at that point so I went to bed.

So guess what I’m doing now bitches?!?!



This post was weird.

I’m weird.

The End.

Tasks Behaving Badly

So my anxiety/ OCD is pretty crippling today. I’m wavering between keeping shit together and crumpling into a sniveling ball of tears. 

I’m trying to get ready for work and… And every move I make I feel like I’m making the worst mistake of my life. 

It doesn’t help that our area should be “on alert” to evacuate should the fire get too close to us. 

I’m currently hiding under my covers writing this post on my phone. 

Every small move I make: pulling out clothing from my drawer, touching the garage door so I can pull something out of my car, putting a clothing item into the hamper…. All these simple tasks have sent me scurrying back under my covers because my brain tells me I’ve just lit a fire and something atrocious is going to happen. 

It’s really fucking frustrating because I know on a logical level that I’m fine. My actions do good and not harm… But I’m not working or thinking on a logical level. 

So here I am trying my best– with medicinal help– to breathe. To turn my thoughts around. 

And I’m coming up empty. 

It’s bad, my doods. 

It’s bad. 

Hopes and Dreams

I’m feeling a bit on the punchy side of things today, which doesn’t help my anxiety AT ALL. It could be the wildfire that is blanketing our city, or it might even be my lack of sleep. 

Nope. It’s for sure my lack of sleep. 

Henceforth there shall be cute animal photos because I fucking feel like it, OK? 

Whenever I’m feeling anxious for “no reason” it’s kind of hard for me to breathe my way to complete calm. It’s always hidden, a subtle current that has me on alert at all times. 

Meds help, and then they don’t. 

It’s a weird dance I haven’t gotten the moves down right so shit unfolds clumsily sometimes. 

Sometimes have come a call in’ today. 

I wish I could say I did well and found progress, but no. I was a downright bitch. 

Think aggressive driving.

Think silently fuming at slow-movers at the craft store. 

Think self-abusive shouting (in my head) at myself for only having the energy to do 2 of the 5 things I had wished to do today. 

I’m not proud of myself today, but today isn’t over. 

I can turn this negativity around. 

I’m going to be nice to myself. 

I’m going to take a nap. 

The Lush: My actual dog, Bernadette.

The Switch is ON

It’s times like these, very early in the morning, tired and awoken by trivialities, that I am at my worse. 

It’s like all of the techniques that I’ve learned to calm myself, to shift my thinking are dulled when I don’t have all my faculties at night. 

There’s also a strange sense of “safety” at play in the quiet darkness of night. I don’t have to “appear strong” to anyone and so my baser fears run wild. 

If I should like a broken record with all this no-sleep-fears business it’s because I write to calm the thoughts. I use this blog to focus my thoughts when I can’t seem to handle it on my own. 

Anyway, instead of falling blissfully back to bed like my poor body wishes, my brain concocted up a laundry list of to-dos I MUST do today and, honestly, I almost fucking convinced myself to start my day on 3 hours of sleep! 

This is unacceptable, body! You hear me? UNACCEPTABLE!