Couch ridden from anxiety


I’ve had a rough couple of days. My anxiety and depression for the past day has been so bad that I can barely lie on my couch and cry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now. I’m antsy and shaking and breathing heavily. I’m dizzy and feel like I’m falling apart. I’ve napped but my sleep is restless. I want to hit myself but I’m successfully abstaining. It’d just feel relieving if I did so the impulse I’d there.


Much better, thank you. I had a session of i dividí al therapy on Friday the following day which helped sort things out. I’d recounted my trauma in detail at group therapy on Wednesday, and in addition to other stressors, that may have been a major contributing factor.
Thanks for the concern!


It’d just feel relieving if I did so the impulse I’d there.
When anxiety has floored me… the ONLY way I’ve ever managed to unvelcro my ass… is to care less.

It’s often stupid stuff. Right now I didn’t eat for a couple of days, because I couldn’t bring myself to find out if the meat I’d defrosted -that I’d been saaaaaving, and so looking forward to, and also the only meat I’ll have for at least a week or two- was still good. It may very well be. Kosher meat oxidises, and is totally fresh/delicious even when it discolours, so if there was even a pinprick in the plastic it’s going to turn colours wicked fast… but “normal” meat is treated with a milk protein that keeps it red even when spoiled, and if it’s disclosed? Shudder. But because I regret the waste, and fear not being able to eat for a few days, I won’t eat for days, just to not find out. Like I said, stupid. But that’s anxiety, for ya.

((There are plenty of times when the actual thing is faaaaar worse than the anxiety, itself. Where the anxiety is just a warning this is gonna be a complete and total motherf*cker. My “stupid” anxiety is when the effects of the fear are as bad if not worse than the thing itself. Vexing as hell, that. Like this stupid meat situation. Shrug. But waiting -fretting- until it’s actually gone off? Takes away the uncertainty. Which is intensely relieving. Which means I care less, so I can actually deal with the effing problem. Until then? I’m going to be just a BIT irrational. Unless I can find another way to care less.))

“How To Care Less”

Takes a couple different forms, depending on whether it is objectively schtupid, or it’s a warning sign of far worse to come.