The weird little unwelcome things that just pop into your head.
“Your friends arent really your friends; they just tolerate you.”
I was told that two different times in high school, once my freshman and junior year.The first time was by this obese goth girl with purple frizzy hair. The second was by this typical Georgia redneck boy with a jacked up truck and yellow teeth.
I knew it was just bullshit by bitter little bullies. But I also remember how obnoxious I was. I was one a list of some guy’s most hated people
“John Kerry, Saddam, Carolanne, and bin Laden”
That’s a lot to live up to.
But I was just that fat, obnoxious girl that tried too hard to be liked and came off as needy and insecure.
And all that popped in my head tonight.
Generally, as an INTP, I can rationalize myself out of an anxiety attack. But I cant shake it. I know however many times I say it isn’t true and how my self worth isn’t based in other’s opinions, I’m just lying.
Part of this is hormonally driven and expected — ha, PMS.
And I fucking know this, but it wont stop. I can feel my heart pounding, hear my panicked breaths and think “Is this really me making these noises?” Am I always going to be that girl that hides in the shower and cries when there is nothing fucking wrong. Nothing has changed in the last five hours. I had a good day. It was pay day. I treated myself to sushi and found kitty litter bogo at Publix. I was looking forward to the cold and lighting a the first fire in my fire place.
Why does my body hate me? Why does my mind rebel?
I know I’m loved.
But stupid things — your family doesn’t really love you; they’re just obligated. People are kind just because they feel sorry. S.O. is there because the outside dating world sucks and I’m the best he can get.
I know it is all lies… but it sticks in my brain and I cant get it out.
Goddamned stupid hormones.
Hello, hormonally induced panic attack.Thanks for putting all this shit, all this negativity and hate and insecurity and vitriol there and letting it fester.
Hot shower, four benadryl (because my doctor refuses to give me xanax or klonopin for situations such as these where I need something to shut my fucking brain up, but no, other people fuck it up with their propensity to abuse drugs) and a feel good movie. And the rain.
S.O. doesnt have the cash to visit this weekend and the idea of spending the weekend alone with my cats just seems unbearable. It shouldn’t. When I was coming home from S.O.’s and got into town, I realized how much having a home that is mine and not my family’s makes me so happy.
I shouldn’t feel this way. I don’t like this person. I dont want to be this person.
I have so much to be thankful for. I shouldn’t be this goddamn ungrateful.
I never tell S.O. about panic attacks when I have them… usually a week after. I hate to make him worry. I hate to make people worry. I don’t like wasting their time. Their energy on me.
I’ll probably tell him about this bad night in a week.
There are times when my shit seems so together and people are aghast when I say I take an SSRI.
I know if I didnt have it, this panic attack would be worse.
In fact… typing this out — knowing someone else whose going through the same thing is reading this and understands makes me feel so much better. Kind of calming.
And the rain