Hello - Me Again.

I do not really want to read my last post, but I am guessing it was written when I thought I did not have much anxiety but actually did.  The sad part is that it was better than it had been for several days - much better.

I question if I will ever be able to work like I used to.  I get so anxious that it is truly, truly debilitating.  Then I think something is wrong with ME.  Why can't I just get up and work?  Why am I so lazy, sitting around, reading news and getting even more anxious?  I literally do not think I am able to work.  Just like depression - it can be so bad that I can not work then either.  I do not feel depressed AT THIS VERY SECOND, so I can not describe exactly how that feels.  I can remember, but not enough to describe the details.

Because of the anxiety, thinking of worse case scenarios of everything, especially myself, it only raises my anxiety more.  In my mind, eventually, I have lost everything, my business, my husband, my dog, my house, my life.  And of course it is all my fault, and of course I deserve it.

Still now, after a few klonipin, I am questioning it.  Will I?  And do I?  I actually do not think I am deserving of anything really.  Who am I that I can stay home and work on a home business that is paying for itself and any profit I reinvest back in the business but I have not been helping the family finances.  That must be bullshit to my husband.  I am not contributing.  Why is that okay?  Because I have a mental illness?

What would I do if I was not married, if my husband did not understand, and does he understand?  IS THIS the reason he is okay with what I do?  I am so confused.

If I had to get a job, what skills do I have?  I have great skills from incredible companies, but that was so long ago.  No one cares that I worked for the best consulting firms...10 years ago.  They DO care that I do NOT have a formal degree.  And Chicago is NOT a place to be looking for a job right now, God no.  It does seem to be the place that Mark's family from Texas likes to visit in the summer though.

I just do not want to see anyone, have anyone in the house, go anywhere, with anyone, be viewed by anyone.  I just look like skanky poor trash.  Do I really?  I don't know, probably not, who knows, and does it even matter?  That is how I feel inside.  Whether I actually look like that does not matter.  It is 100% my perception and I am so mortified and embarrassed to be seen in public by anyone under any circumstance.

Does that sound too much?  It is how I feel.  Maybe people do not normally get so specific, but if I knew stronger words to use to detail how I feel about myself, I would use them.

This song has a dual purpose description of me right now:

Let Me Be Me

If you watch the video, I feel I look as different from everyone as he does - so out of place, that everyone can tell there is something wrong with me. It does not matter what they do, if they approach me because *I* know *they* know, and I know I am hideous.

The words - I have always felt this song described how I felt about my mental illness and taking medication.  I had to take it so I could fit into society.

However - unknowingly, Mark said the most interesting thing yesterday without realizing it.  I have been REALLY struggling with my allergies and asthma lately (that I did not have in Dallas!). I did not take my maintenance inhaler or allergy/asthma pill for about a week and got pretty sick with allergies.   Still trying to catch up to where I was.

So I asked him if he thought that once I started taking all of this crap for allergies/asthma, that now my body depends on it and I will ALWAYS have to take it?

He thought of it another way.  He said I started taking each thing I take for a reason, not anything as preventative at the time.  So...why wouldn't I think I would have a problems if I stopped even one thing?  I thought about that - it was a good point.

The same is true with my medication for my mental illness.  Of course there is nothing I take that was given to me as a preventative measure.  Each thing was added to combat a symptom that was causing a problem in my life - and to me, not to anyone else that I recall.  So taking one away is only hurting myself.

Still.  I remember being a happier person.  But then it hit, out of nowhere, when I was 19 and I literally could not get out of bed.  I was at my then boyfriend's house (who turned into a then-husband).  Why do people act like it is more normal than it is?  Days in bed, refusing to leave bed, take a shower and go anywhere?  I had NO IDEA what was wrong with me, and you know, I did not care as long as I did not have to get out of bed.

If things do not seem normal - do someone a favor and suggest they get help - maybe offer to help them find help if they are willing.  They might not know they need it, but I bet they suspect it.




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