Anxiety is a dickhead
Why does it feel like my body doesn’t want me to breathe because my neck muscles are clamping down around my windpipe? Why is my heart going fast when all I’m trying to do is write a blog post? Why do I feel like I need to go run off this adrenaline in the rain?
It’s pouring it down outside but it seems like a better place to be than in my room. My aromatherapy candle isn’t working. I’m desperate to run away from these feelings, make a new thought pattern in my brain, feel energised (at least for a little while).
I wonder what I am anxious about – it’s Sunday afternoon and I’ve had a restful day (though also a bad mental health day).
It could be because the new week is approaching. Mondays are when I plan my week ahead, when I write down all the tasks I have to do. When I do this, I usually realise that I have double-booked myself at some point or that I have a scary appointment coming up quicker than I thought. It’s a lot of seemingly little things that make a bigger ball of stress and anxiety.
mental illness is a dickhead
One thing I think about mental health is that it’s so unfair that we have to “look after” it all the time and forever. It’s like a life sentence. Looking after our bodies, yeah sure that makes sense, but looking after our thoughts and feelings and mental illnesses? It’s so much harder. So much harder.
And then mental illness has the audacity to affect your physical health too? Like excuse you, stay in your lane. Not only do you gain control over my thoughts and feelings but you also use your powers of suggestion to bloat me out, make my neck hurt and open up my sweat glands? Not fair.
I’d really, really like to go running right now. I think I will.