Originally Posted by Sandy
(Post 482822)
I had two panic attacks today. For COMPLETELY irrational reasons. I heard a fricken TRUCK go down the road and my mind contorted it into something else. It wasn't just a truck anymore. It was a truck driving up and down the road; repeatedly running over my dogs, who had in my mind, managed to escape from the fenced area of the yard and gotten onto the road. MY DOGS WERE IN THE HOUSE THE ENTIRE TIME, yet I still burst into sobs and I couldn't even look out the window to check for the truck. I kept hearing my dogs getting hit by the truck. I repeat: THEY WERE IN THE HOUSE THE ENTIRE TIME, and this still happened. And then my mom got me out of the house to go on this walk with her and, since she never leashes them up (which makes me anxious even at the best of times) they crawled under some randomer's fence and were in their backyard and wouldn't come out. I flipped out because I thought they had already made their way onto a different block and onto the road and, I assumed, OF COURSE, that they had been hit by a car and started sobbing again. Panic attacks aren't normal for me, ever, but when they do happen, it is ALWAYS triggered by those goddamn dogs. Any pet, really. God, I hate them for that. I hate that I love them so much and get so worried about how small they are and it just led to me panicking about so many other things, like my future and how I was going to die someday and within a couple years be completely forgotten. My life just flashes in front of my eyes and I realize that it's pointless and my panic reaches a whole new level. And then I panic about panicking. I panic about my anxiety and the fact that beneath the good grades and cherade of having my crap together, I'm just a huge baby. And then after that, due to me panicking about panicking, I broke down and sobbed to my mom and finally told her that I feel like I'm not good enough for her or my dad or ANYONE. I feel so unbelievably terrible. I'm so ashamed of this (which begs the question, why on earth am I ranting about it online, but I'd rather not rant it to people I know in real life seeing as I already cause them enough trouble) and the fact that I'm constantly anxious and barely remember to feed myself or sleep anymore. I'm so anxious for days where I have to volunteer I confuse my schedule and I show up either a day early or a day late and then feel either stupid or horrifically guilty. The fact that any kind of traumatic event could happen at any time around me haunts me every day to the point where I'll convince myself that it ACTUALLY HAPPENED. So to combat this I just stay here in my room. I surround myself with noise and barriers so that if someone starts screaming outside, or if someone gets hurt, I'll be too soaked up in my ignorance to notice. It's this toxic cycle I've gotten into but I don't believe I'm worth the effort of trying to break it. I feel so terrible. I want to tell my parents and ask them for help but I can't because I already know that they'll tell me to get more exercise but I'm incapable of even doing that without adding some toxic body image problem onto into the equation like I did last time. I'm literally just a huge baby and I feel so, so terrible about it.
Sometimes I wonder, is it my nature to be like this? Has school somehow turned me into an anxious blubbering fool when I don't have a clearly defined set of goals and a culminating activity? Have I really been broken and moulded into the perfect student so easily? I'm confident giving speeches in front of classes. I'm confident talking and answering questions about things I don't know, and I don't get nervous before exams. Yet when I'm given an inch of freedom for the summer I go absolutely berserk? What kind of life do I have set up for me after completing my education? I'm caught between a knife and a razor here--it's either be trapped in a repeating system of performing futile tasks, or completely losing my head when I'm not locked into the same schedule that I've grown to hate.
My mom told me that she loves me, that everyone loves me, and that she's proud of me for dealing with my anxiety withit drugs or alcohol or sex like other kids my age, but I can't bring myself to believe her. I still have self-worth that is below the level of "human being," and believe it is not unjust to treat myself as such. I can't stop being anxious because on some level I feel like I deserve it, like it's some kind of punishment I give myself for being alive.
I feel so, so terrible. Useless. Weak. Like I'm secretly some kind of "damaged goods" or whatever that tries to hide the fact that I have a huge fracture in my soul for whatever dumb reason but I do a crappy job at hiding it anyways and I end up crawling back, over and over and over again to people who I try to act professional with, people I told myself would never ever see me weak or anything less than confident and in control of myself and my life and everything. My anxiety makes me feel so worthless and undesirable (I don't mean in a romantic sense, I mean this as an all-around, general "Oh my god get that person away from me" way) and crappy as a human being.
I would give anything to be feeling terrible about a science project on quantum physics instead of feeling terrible about how I cunningly plan to somehow thwart insanity this summer and all the summers to come. I'd much rather cry over a failing mark than a failing mind. But the luxury of being too focused on writing an essay on Marcus Brutus's fatal flaws to notice my own is something I won't know again until September.
Nah, it doesn't sound cheesy at all. If anything it made my evening worthwhile. I wish I could have worded stuff better/made less typos/given a better response in general but I'm kinda shaky with responding to vents but I try and hope for the best. I'm so, so glad that I helped you somehow, even if only a little bit.
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