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So, the website suggest I keep a diary. I suppose here goes then.

I have anxiety. I went on pills for about a year and they just made me numb to everything. Which was not what I wanted. I wanted to feel more than just panic. More than just threatened. I wanted to feel, to taste, happiness. And, well, drugs didn't give me that.

I've seen therapists and I stopped seeing them for no reason. Everything was going well and then the sessions just... Stopped.

A bit of background on myself. I'm 18 years old, soon to be 19, I just graduated high school. I did not go to college right away because of crippling panic about money. I decided to take a semester off and go to the local community college. Less money/less stress. I have a boyfriend who has helped me through my stress and is probably the bravest person alive because he deals with my BS. I moved to where I am now when I was 13. Directly after my grandmother (whom I was very very close to) died. A year later, my grandfather (also who I was very close to) fell sick, and died as well. Their deaths were very long and drawn out. They were both on their deathbeds for approximately three months. It was a very stressful time. Not to mention I had just moved in the middle of junior high. A year later, my mother developed a very serious allergy and was in and out of the hospital. I was terrified that I was going to lose her. She had already gone through cancer and had just beaten it in time to see her mother/my grandmother die. Not only was I going through bodily changes (which I think is stressful enough), but I had to deal with those around me dying.

That was a lot to read, so there will be other fill-ins on my background later.

Long background or not, I have anxiety. I get big welts on my arms that I do not put there myself (I had a self harm phase and I got past that real quick. Not my cup of tea) and I develop giant itching rashes all down my legs. My legs turn all blotchy and red. I get major hot flashes (I don't think it's time for menopause yet!)

When I have a full fledged panic attack I start breathing really quickly and get violent. Mainly towards myself. I hit my head repeatedly against whatever I can find. Slap anything that I see. Pick up and break the nice things that I have. I have cost myself hundreds of dollars in the things that I have broken. I cry and scream at the top of my lungs. It's unstoppable when it happens. I either need my boyfriend's help to calm down, or have to wrap myself up in blankets until I calm down. Blankets both restrain me (I make sure not to strangle myself, even though I have anxiety I would like to continue living) and comfort me.

Many times my panic attacks will be triggered by something mundane. The car in front of me is going under the speed limit. I knicked my leg when shaving. My mother told me that I should do my laundry. Things that I know I shouldn't panic about. What am I in such a hurry for? I don't have a time contraint. My leg will heal. My mom is right. I'm running out of pants.

Ah, yes. Time. My ultimate foe. If I am even a minute late to work or to school I feel  the need to scream. I generally end up having a full fledged panic attack when I am late to school. My boyfriend would wait for me in the hall if I was late during our senior year and make sure I didn't freak out. He would hold me in a straightjacket type way and whisper soothing words to me. Telling me that it would be okay. That I will be okay. He and I would get through this.

I generally don't like depending on anyone, and with past boyfriends I had a problem with not trusting or depending on them. But, for some reason, I trust Trey.

Our relationship isn't one sided either. He doesn't just take care of me (like I would even allow that). I took care of him. He was addicted to pot in the bad way. He was addicted and kept wanting more and more. Because he didn't want to feel. Many of times (as I have seen) that leads to harder drugs. He was failing his classes and thinking of dropping out of high school and didn't plan on ever getting a job or driving.

So, I cleaned him up. He stopped partying. He fixed his grades and graduated high school. Became the first of his dad's side to ever graduate high school. He's planning on college in the near future. Got a legitimate job. And now drives. I am so absolutely proud of him that I almost cry (or sometimes do) when I think of it.

Enough of the mush.

My main problem, other than time contraints freaking me out, is that I tend to take care of others and care about their feelings more than mine. So much so that I ignore my own until I completely explode.

I'm pretty tired now, so I think I will leave it at that.

More in this category: « Me Third day of school. »

1 comment

  • Comment Link Lisa Powell Tuesday, 09 September 2014 05:19 posted by Lisa Powell

    Welcome, Wannabatt13!!!

    I enjoyed reading your post. One of the first things I related to was when I would stop going to therapists. Usually it was because the subject was getting too close and I wasn't ready to deal emotionally, yet. I think therapy is so important but also getting the right therapist for you and one you can say - I'm not ready to go there yet. Good therapists usually know they're crossing a line and back off.
    It hurts to read that you hurt yourself and that it's the small things that set you off. That's a sign of someone carrying a lot of pain inside and you only let it show in small ways. I can relate to that, too.
    I would encourage you to see some kind of counselor and learn some coping skills to help with the anger and anxiety.
    I look forward to getting to know you better.
    "Serene at Last"

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