Friday the Fucking Thirteenth

Maybe it’s because of the trifecta today (Full moon, harvest moon, & Friday the thirteenth) that I feel extreme anxiety. Or maybe it’s just me.

No… it’s definitely just me. Although, I do believe that the fucking moon cycles do not help and damn I’m feeling it tonight. Maybe you’re reading this on your screen right now thinking the same thing. Maybe not.

I figured I’d start out this special day with explaining one of my biggest downfalls. That darn mother fucking anxiety.

Maybe you’re reading this, same issue, being able to relate to me. If not, I’ll describe what I feel. When I feel anxious I feel as if a fucking clamp is around my head, my stomach is fluttering, my heart rate speeds up, my palms get so damn sweaty, I’m terrified for no reason, and my mind isn’t stopping. My thoughts spiral. I’m thinking about everything and nothing all at the same time. “Why I’m I anxious?” “What do I do?” “I can’t handle this.” “Maybe it’s about “fill in the blank”.” Anything, everything, and nothing triggers it. It’s just always there, in the back of my head, trying to prevent me from living my life, trying to stop me from living. So, I want you, my reader, to imagine this… you’re standing in the middle of a beach. It’s beautiful. The sky is so blue and the water foams as it hits the sand. Melodic waves kissing your ears. The birds are chatting together in the grass-covered dune behind you. Peace. You feel at peace. You look up. Gazing at the clouds, you’re listening to the sounds of boaters in the sea. You look forward to look upon the happiness of the people in the motorboat and you see a FUCKING BOAT SPIRALING RIGHT TOWARD YOU! Yeah. Imagine that feeling of complete fear and anxiety for more than the 3 seconds it takes for a goddamn boat run up on shore and plow you down.

And guess what usually is the cause for my anxiety. Just guess. Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing. No reason. Nada. Zip.

Well fuck that. I’ve lived with this shit my whole life. Yes I do have panic attacks. Yes it definitely is a reason for some of my depression/unhealthy habits. Yes I hate it. I hate that the majority of the time when someone asks me “what’s wrong?” I don’t even fucking know. So… I say “I’m fine”. Classic right? Then I bury my anxiety and feelings down, so deep, for so long that one day they explode.

So I’m here, still working on controlling my shitlicious (yeah you like that new word) anxiety and learning how to deal with it when it happens. You, that person behind the pixels of that computer screen, either get this or don’t. If you are that person, the one that feels me, I fucking understand you. You are not fucking crazy. You are not fucking alone.