Prideful Moments

So I just spent a long while having a smaller attack where I tried every resource in my arsenal to avoid taking a Xanax. 

It got me thinking. 

Why would I willingly deny myself the ability to have a clearer mind? What am I getting out of living in fear just because I’ve already had 4 Xanax today? 

Shit’s been real hard for me lately so I have every reason to take the medicine provided to me. And you know what? I am way more level-headed during such a tumultuous and emotionally gutting time than I ever could have hoped for. 

I almost feel like myself again

(And you know that right there is super fucking empowering) 

So back to my point– fuck this stigma of being “drugged out” that I have in my head. Fuck anyone who says modern medicine is bad. Fuck the thinking that I just need to eat better and do xyz (honestly these are just all coming from my own head. Everyone around me is super supportive). I’m already on my super awesome path of amazingness and wellness. Shit doesn’t happen overnight, people (again, I’m mostly arguing with myself). 

So basically fuck you negative berating thoughts. I have better things to focus on, thank you very much. 


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! 

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.

Decent Bounceback

I still smart from yesterday but thankfully I have a therapy appointment that I can talk to her about the situation. 

I cried on my mom and sort of confessed everything that’s been going on. In her usual caring way she rubbed my back, made calming murmurs, and gently shoved tissues at me. 

Then she did her woo woo suggestions of supplements and meditation… Which I’m already doing

Don’t get me wrong, meditation has helped with my breathing and some of the negative thinking I seem to have, but I’m still fucked after a certain point. 

She’s supportive where she can be and at a loss on others. 

But I still love her. 

So it’s all good.