There are nights, like tonight, when the anxiety is too much. It rises up like some primal fear telling you to run. I want nothing more than to make it stop.
I can’t focus. My stomach is in knots. There is that fight-or-flight sensation in the back of my throat while a rogue drummer pounds away at my skull.
The only thing I can focus on is this insane desire to get away from this feeling; to run. But you can’t get away. It’s with you. In your head. I wish I knew why it happens, and I’d do just about anything to make it stop.
It has been a long time since I was promised help. We’re just never home long enough to get the help I need.
I’m so done with this.
By time a consult goes through, and I can set up an appointment, I will be mid to end November. Meanwhile I deal with this depression, the dark days when everything feels like too much, reliving past things, the bearing of guilt that I swear, “I know it isn’t my fault, but still…”
Some days it is all just too much.