I was thinking the other day about my anxiety...and how long I've had it. Which has been what feels like forever. I was officially diagnosed with it about 10 years ago...give or take a few months. That's a long time to be living with an official mental illness.
In high school I was always the more careful person. I didn't take many risks at all. Stayed in my friend group, was nice to everyone, did what I was supposed to do. Same thing in college. I was a little more adventurous thanks to my AMAZING roomies. I love those girls so much. Even though we have drifted apart...they will always mean the world to me. <3 But, that's not the point.
My uncle was diagnosed with a rare liver cancer...and given 3-6 months to live. Death isn't an easy thing to deal with. Ever. We had dinner with him as a family and said our goodbyes...and my mom drove me back to campus. That's where it all went down hill. On my way back to school I was pretty sure I was dying from a heart attack. I couldn't breathe, my arm went numb, my chest hurt....I told my mom we needed to go to the hospital. (Which was a convenient stop along the way because I went to school at UAB and obviously the UAB hospital was right there.) Thankfully my mom had the idea that I was having an anxiety attack and not a heart attack. I called two of my roommates and asked them what to do to calm down. By the time I made it back to the dorm I felt like I could breath again. And I laid down on my bed, put my feet up and tried to relax.
That was the first anxiety attack...it definitely wasn't the last one. I saw my uncle a few more times after that goodbye dinner. The anxiety didn't go away. I had a science class that was later in the day...I stopped going to it. SUPER failed that class. And I didn't really care. When I moved back home the anxiety only got worse. At the time I didn't have a car. I felt trapped. I used to not be able to sleep. I was afraid to sleep actually. So, my mom made me start therapy. Again. And it worked...for a while. Then I lost my health insurance and had to stop going to see my guy. And fast forward to the next summer...same issues started to pop up again. So...I got put on medication. It's had to be adjusted throughout the years, but I can sleep. So, it's worth it.
You might be wondering what that has to do with anything. Well fast forward 10 years and I'm still a hot mess. I'm in therapy for the...4th time?...I think. And still dealing with this anxiety stuff. It has evolved from just not being able to sleep. I now think everyone hates me. And that most people are only my friend out of pity. And that I am probably going to die from every ache and pain I ever feel. SO...that's fun.
I tend to self-destruct. Especially when it comes to my friendships. I'll say something crazy and try to push people away and then they'll give up and leave. I think it's easier than waiting for them to leave me. But, those that stay around after I try to push them away...they mean everything to me. And yet, I still feel like eventually they will leave too. It's the worst feeling in the world. And I can't stop thinking about things...and then I end up depressed. And it's this vicious cycle. I'm not sure how to make it stop...that's why I'm in therapy.
I know I can be annoying...I need reassurance that my friendships are real. And safe. I text people asking them if we're okay...I give them an out. And I try to have jedi level sabotage.
Thank you guys for dealing with my crazy...and not letting me push you away. Or for being the insecure person I've become. I'm working on it.
Until next time.
Wash your hands y'all. And stay away from people.
xoxo
Kymber.
