3.23.2006

Breathing

I am in the middle of an anxiety attack. You wouldn't know it to look at me. Until you watch closely, then you notice that I am holding my breath. I have to remind myself to breathe.

I wake up each night around 3am and lay there thinking of every god-damn thing wrong I am doing, have done and that has been done to me. I think about what I need to do the next day, the next week and the next year to fix my life, fix myself. I draft letters in my head to friends and family trying to explain past wrongs and present feelings. I plan how I will try to be a better parent, wife, professional, friend, sister, cousin... I'm thinking about asking my GP for medicine to help me deal with this anxiety. I get anxious about the anxiety. It creates a vicious circle that eventually leads to a breakdown. I don't sleeping enough and can't focus on being a better everything. I can't excersize, which I know help, because all I want to do is sleep, so I feel worse. Eventually, I'll wake up one night, so tired, so frustrated, I'll start crying and won't be able to stop. After a few nights of this, I'll finally wake my husband and let him know. How did he not know? He'll tell me to stay home, take a sominex or sleeping pill of some sort and get some rest. It'll work for a day or two, but it won't relieve the true underlying cause of the symptoms and we both know it, it's money.

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