It’s 6:35pm. I just sat down in front of my laptop after trying and failing miserably at napping my way through this rainy Friday. When I seem unable to fall asleep and my mind starts to wander, that’s when you know something’s up. I know last week I wrote a blog post where I said I was fine. Well, I’m not. Or I am. Kind of. Some days. Other days? Not so much. At least that’s what my body seems to think.
I’ve always been clumsy, but last week I started experiencing an important lack of balance. I told my parents, in a joking-haha-I’m-so-clumsy kind of way, who thankfully didn’t find it funny in the slightest and seemed to think I should see a neurologist. No way, I thought. Most times someone goes to Dr. Shepherd – either Derek or Amelia- on Grey’s Anatomy (my very reliable source of information), they end up (brain) dead. TV inflicted fears aside, I go to see my doctor. She makes me stand, walk, touch my nose; tests my reflexes, my pressure, etc. I’m fine, she says. It’s anxiety, she says. She asks if anything’s been bothering me lately. I feel like laughing would be socially rude (not to mention I feel like doing anything but). So I start crying instead. Anxiety? Again? Fuck off.
Apparently, yes, buddies, I was discharged back in September, but anxiety strikes again now. I’m not writing about it just so I can have people’s sympathy. Keep it, I don’t need it. I could care less. I’m writing about it simply because I think we need to have a real, honest conversation about anxiety and the different ways it affects each individual. This is my contribution for now. It’s real, it’s scary and it affects you physically. And when that happens, you feel so fucking weak.
But you can’t let it win. At least I won’t. I’m too competitive. 😉