I’m freaking out.
I’m Freaking Out.
I’M FREAKING OUT.
I’m sure it’s the new medication, but knowing that doesn’t make the feeling go away. It doesn’t stop the the tightness in my chest. It doesn’t stop the dread. It doesn’t stop the worrying. It doesn’t stop the tears.
With my new medication I’ve already begun to feel a renewed energy. I can finally concentrate and motivate myself to work on projects. Getting out of the house to socialize is a little bit easier. I’ve even started working out again. Unfortunately, this energy has come with a price: Anxiety. I’ve never been a terribly anxious person. Occasionally I get something in my head that makes me nervous or worried, but no more than any “normal” person. But since I started my new medication I have been experiencing an increasing amount of anxiety. At first it just felt like nervous energy. My sleep is slightly less restful and I always feel like I’ve had just a little too much coffee. But then my brain identified something to be anxious about, and my anxiety levels went through the roof. It almost doesn’t matter what the reason is. It could have been anything. My brain was just searching for something - anything - on which to focus this nervous energy. Unfortunately, the thing it focused on was the relationship I wanted to protect from it the most.
Having a long distance relationship has been challenging enough, but when it’s combined with depression and now anxiety, it feels almost overwhelmingly difficult. We have so little time together. I don’t want to spend our phone calls talking about my struggle with my mood. And when I see him I want to be able to show him how happy he makes me. I don’t want to have to fake my smile. I don’t want to be moody or distant. I want to be fun and joyful. I want - for just one fucking weekend a month - to have moments of pure joy with someone I love.
But, most of all, I don’t want him to think that I’m broken. I don’t want him to consider me a burden or a bore. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. I want so badly to be honest with him about how I’m feeling or what I’m going through, but at the same time I’m terrified of showing him what’s going on in my brain. I want to reserve just this one relationship as a source of joy in my life. I want his arms to be the one place where I’m not sick. And I want him to see me as the person I want to be, rather than the person I am.
And that’s why it’s so ironic that my brain has chosen that relationship as the focus of my anxiety. He and I haven’t talked much in the past several days, and this usually wouldn’t be a problem but my brain has convinced me that he’s met someone new and just hasn’t gotten around to telling me he’s moved on. Now, this isn’t an unwarranted fear. He’s a monogamous person and doesn’t intend to be otherwise. We have agreed to enjoy what we have while we have it, with the knowledge that eventually it won’t be right for him anymore and he’ll have to move on to someone who shares his relationship goals. I’ve always known that would be a sad time, but considered the good times we had to be worth it. But now, with this added measure of anxiety, I don’t know if I can handle it. I am making myself crazy. And I can’t tell him about this because it’s crazy and obsessive. I don’t want him to feel obligated to make sure he talks to me every day just to calm my anxiety. And when he is ready to move on, I don’t want my mental health to make him feel guilty about having that difficult, but necessary, conversation.
So I’m just going to sit here and freak out. I’m going to cry. I’m going to self-medicate. I’m going to try to convince myself that, while I love what we have, he is not the only source of joy in my life. And then I’m going to cry some more. The one thing I won’t do is tell him about it.
I’m Freaking Out.
I’M FREAKING OUT.
I’m sure it’s the new medication, but knowing that doesn’t make the feeling go away. It doesn’t stop the the tightness in my chest. It doesn’t stop the dread. It doesn’t stop the worrying. It doesn’t stop the tears.
With my new medication I’ve already begun to feel a renewed energy. I can finally concentrate and motivate myself to work on projects. Getting out of the house to socialize is a little bit easier. I’ve even started working out again. Unfortunately, this energy has come with a price: Anxiety. I’ve never been a terribly anxious person. Occasionally I get something in my head that makes me nervous or worried, but no more than any “normal” person. But since I started my new medication I have been experiencing an increasing amount of anxiety. At first it just felt like nervous energy. My sleep is slightly less restful and I always feel like I’ve had just a little too much coffee. But then my brain identified something to be anxious about, and my anxiety levels went through the roof. It almost doesn’t matter what the reason is. It could have been anything. My brain was just searching for something - anything - on which to focus this nervous energy. Unfortunately, the thing it focused on was the relationship I wanted to protect from it the most.
Having a long distance relationship has been challenging enough, but when it’s combined with depression and now anxiety, it feels almost overwhelmingly difficult. We have so little time together. I don’t want to spend our phone calls talking about my struggle with my mood. And when I see him I want to be able to show him how happy he makes me. I don’t want to have to fake my smile. I don’t want to be moody or distant. I want to be fun and joyful. I want - for just one fucking weekend a month - to have moments of pure joy with someone I love.
But, most of all, I don’t want him to think that I’m broken. I don’t want him to consider me a burden or a bore. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. I want so badly to be honest with him about how I’m feeling or what I’m going through, but at the same time I’m terrified of showing him what’s going on in my brain. I want to reserve just this one relationship as a source of joy in my life. I want his arms to be the one place where I’m not sick. And I want him to see me as the person I want to be, rather than the person I am.
And that’s why it’s so ironic that my brain has chosen that relationship as the focus of my anxiety. He and I haven’t talked much in the past several days, and this usually wouldn’t be a problem but my brain has convinced me that he’s met someone new and just hasn’t gotten around to telling me he’s moved on. Now, this isn’t an unwarranted fear. He’s a monogamous person and doesn’t intend to be otherwise. We have agreed to enjoy what we have while we have it, with the knowledge that eventually it won’t be right for him anymore and he’ll have to move on to someone who shares his relationship goals. I’ve always known that would be a sad time, but considered the good times we had to be worth it. But now, with this added measure of anxiety, I don’t know if I can handle it. I am making myself crazy. And I can’t tell him about this because it’s crazy and obsessive. I don’t want him to feel obligated to make sure he talks to me every day just to calm my anxiety. And when he is ready to move on, I don’t want my mental health to make him feel guilty about having that difficult, but necessary, conversation.
So I’m just going to sit here and freak out. I’m going to cry. I’m going to self-medicate. I’m going to try to convince myself that, while I love what we have, he is not the only source of joy in my life. And then I’m going to cry some more. The one thing I won’t do is tell him about it.
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