Tag: anxiety

Don’t Let Them Know

I’m having a hard time pretending. I don’t have an option. I have to pretend everything is okay.

I can’t let the kids know I’m not okay. I can’t let my coworkers know I’m not okay. I can’t let my patients know I’m not okay.

I have to continue my life as if nothing has changed. I have to go to work and face coworkers like I’m the happy person they have come to expect. I have to give my patients and their families my all because my problems are not their concern in the least. I have to show the brave face to my kids because my hurt isn’t theirs to burden.

How does one go about this? How does a person tell their mind to stop having anxiety attacks?

I’m trying. It isn’t easy but I’m working on it.

In the mean time I’ll cuddle my kids while they’ll let me. I’ll snuggle my puppy as long as I can. I’ll help my mother build her life again.

I cannot guarantee I will be able to be the happy-go-lucky person I used to be but I can promise I’m trying.

Anxiety

Anxiety is ruthless. It doesn’t care who you are or where you are. When anxiety rears it’s ugly head, it’s victims may not be able to fight back.

I know it’s all in my head. I know it isn’t true. But sometimes, it’s too real feeling at the moment to see myself out.

Tonight, when I got home from work, anxiety hit. I’m not talking about a little shaky feeling or unease. I mean full out panic attack. Out of the blue. While minding my own business my head asked me “what if something really bad happens and you have to take a family member to the hospital because they are critically injured and may not survive”.

You think that’s bad enough, right? Oh, my brain did not. It thought it should add “and what if when you get to the hospital you can’t reach anybody? Like no one. Not your husband, not your mother, not your other children, not even a friend. No one answers your call and you have to watch your child die alone”.

What the absolute f***? Where did this come from? Why is it there? Why did my mind add that last part other than to be extra cruel? Why, when I know that this is actually ridiculous, won’t the feeling of doom go away.

As I write these words my hands are still shaking and the tears still won’t stop. I am trying to compose myself so I can face my children without them worrying about me.

How do I tell myself I’m being ridiculous and believe it enough to stop?

I hate anxiety.