Tag: anxiety

One of the bad things about thinking about yet another swerve in direction when it comes to career/employment is that seems to give me the occasional really annoying dream where I am still 31-going-on-32 but I’m stuck be a student in a junior high or high school class where somehow no one thinks this is a strange or awkward thing.

Last night’s sucked because the teacher gave “homework”…but you couldn’t take it home to finish if you didn’t finish it in class–like she would MAKE YOU leave it in the room with her–which is the antithesis of homework.

I think some of this is because my situation = chronically ill (type 1 diabetes), anxious (with a side of panic disorder), depressed, adult-diagnosed Autistic person who basically did a BA and MA in some of their special interests (aka to modify some song lyrics, “What do you do with a BA and MA in English?”), then did an MA in one of the “Only Careers Where Those Degrees Are Useful“ (which is a different way of saying “those who can’t, teach” which is bullshit) and discovered it would take a Very Specific Environment in order to actually manage to do the Teaching Thing.

And the other bits would be easier to deal with as far as Doing A Job would go if the chronic illness wasn’t there because ahahahaha, cannot live without some form of insurance because American For Profit Healthcare System and Pharmaceutical Corp Owners Made of Greed.

And naturally I think about all of this a lot more before bed because The Night Is Dark And Full of Fewer Distractions (and Occasionally Terrors).

inkskinned:

i make a funny post about my feelings of numbness; a person points out i have executive dysfunction. for a second i snort; i know i have mental illness, nothing new here under the sun. but then i realize how many of my symptoms i forget are symptoms. that it’s not normal to be tired all the time. that it’s not normal to get angry for no reason. that the fact i carefully balance between depression and anxiety isn’t a normal railroad track to be walking – i know that it’s not normal to constantly wonder if the train is coming; i forget other people aren’t standing in the way, that being hit isn’t even an option.

there are a lot of posts that make me laugh at first. “do you ever feel you’re running out of time for no reason?” the person asks. “anxiety,” another replies. it’s sort of sad-funny. but i wonder how many of us are asking “am i okay?” “is this me or a symptom or normal?” 

how very sad none of us know what to expect out of this. i have a diagnosis and i still wonder if it’s normal to panic on buses. is it normal i’ve been having panic attacks since i was young? i picture my seven-year-old self with new technology. would i have typed into google why can’t i sleep or would i have assumed everyone constantly feels like they woke up from a bad dream?

do people who are healthy ask “does anyone else”? do people who are healthy ever have to wonder if they’re in one piece? what is it like? 

“anyone else get bad feelings in classrooms?” i wonder aloud. somebody looks at me with pity. now it comes down to the question: is it me or anxiety?

Things I Hate About Anxiety:

When I am feeling good and happy about and admiring about some part of my chosen appearance–like my hair after a fresh haircut, or how well a buttoning shirt (from the men’s department) fits, or how good a shirt/tie combination looks–I hate how the voice of Anxiety will creep in with “you’ll never get a job dressed that way; you’ll never get a call back from an interview if you go dressed like that–as yourself, the way you’re comfortable–everyone knows that, you know that.”

And…it’s not exactly *un*true. Articles pop up all the time about the impact of makeup and perceived femininity on hiring. Most recently, Cheeto Voldemort’s desire for his female staffers to “dress like women” also reflected this (though I am thankful that that spawned backlash).

I cannot function normally in a dress. In a dress, I have to have a different persona–I have to be a character. I could probably pull off Distant Aristocrat, but I’ve only ever *actually* performed–as an actress–Somewhat Campy Ingenue. Otherwise you just get Person Who Feels Like They Are Doing Really Bad Drag And Would Prefer Not To if you put me in a dress. Skirts I can manage by pretending they are kilts. I do not think that would work if I had to wear one on a daily basis; in that case, I would be sorely tempted to buy the cheapest kilt I could find, wear it, and see if any one noticed.

In short, I want to be Me, and anxiety is a douchecanoe about that when it comes to the job market (which tends to hate me quite well enough sight-unseen, on paper, let alone in person).

Please reblog if:

the-space-goat:

•your anxiety has made it difficult for you to voice your opinion

•your anxiety has made it difficult to dress the way you want

•your anxiety has made it difficult to ask for help

•your anxiety has made you constantly worry if you are being annoying and wonder if your friends and family are valid relationships or if they just put up with you because they have to

And please know that you are not fighting this battle alone. You are worth more than your anxiety says. You matter and so does your opinion and your say.
You are awesome

grapehyasynth:

mattxpike:

High-functioning anxiety sounds like…

You’re not good enough. You’re a bad friend. You’re not good at your job. You’re wasting time. You’re a waste of time. Your boyfriend doesn’t love you. You’re so needy. What are you doing with yourself? Why would you say that? What if they hate it? Why can’t you have your shit together? You’re going to get anxious and because you’re going to get anxious, you’re going to mess everything up. You’re a fraud. Just good at faking it. You’re letting everybody down. No one here likes you.

All the while, it appears perfectly calm.

It’s always looking for the next outlet, something to channel the never-ending energy. Writing. Running. List-making. Mindless tasks (whatever keeps you busy). Doing jumping jacks in the kitchen. Dancing in the living room, pretending it’s for fun, when really it’s a choreographed routine of desperation, trying to tire out the thoughts stuck in your head.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen it written out as if it were describing me exactly.