I wish I could understand how my brain works more sometimes. Anxiety is one of the strangest forms of mental illness in the world. Occasionally, my skin will crawl and I need to move around or just walk, walk for miles without stopping or focusing on anything else. Other times, the urge to lay in bed overpowers all else and I can not fathom ever leaving my room. All my furniture and necessities are laid around my bed for easy access. When I go out to eat, I need my back to a wall and line of sight on an exit because the irrational fear that someone might randomly come in and rob the restaurant or shoot up the place seems logical and more rational than anything else. My hands tremor when they aren't in use, so I try keeping them busy with video games or reading or chain smoking cigarettes as I write this article. Out of the hundreds of hobbies I keep, I can't commit to one due to the lack of motivation that I wake up with. My brain hurts, sometimes I can't sleep for more than 2 hours and wake up exhausted or fully refreshed, other times a ten to twelve hour sleep at night will leave me yawning all day, and caffeine? I would need an IV of pure dark roast coffee to keep myself sustained.
Anxiety has truly effected every aspect of my life. Whether it be professional or personal, it always has an impact. Relationships are hard, I'm either too distant or too clingy or have the fear I'm being used or cheated on. I cut friendships off easier than most people would. When it comes to work, "Sorry, I can't come into work today, my anxiety is leaving me bed ridden because if I come into work today I fear that there will be some sort of natural disaster." My register could be way too short or way too over because who cares what the dead presidents on bills look like when they all blend together and your brain has approximately 500 thoughts floating around like clouds but have you ever tried grabbing a cloud? Well neither have I, but I imagine that it would be very difficult to do. Even when things in my brain are quiet, something feels like it's missing. The only way I can explain it is when you move furniture around and trip or stub your toe because you aren't used to the new layout. Even now a cigarette is slowly burning in my right hand into a full ash tray I just emptied last night, and my brain is screaming at me in two voices to put it down or to inhale it in one breath.
Quiet days are hard to come by and as described, there is a lack of relief when they come around. My brain hurts, and even with the variety of medicine and rainbow colored pills, there is still pain.
