Being an enigma isn’t always fun(ny)

Anxiety… what the fuck does it even mean? Merriam-Webster dictionary (uh, the online one, I don’t own a fucking actual dictionary) defines it as “an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physiological signs (as sweating, tension, and increased pulse), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one’s capacity to cope with it”. Yeah, ok, so… It means you freak the hell out because of bullshit and/or freak out because you might freak out over some bullshit. Makes total sense, right? WE’RE SCREWED.

My anxiety gets to the point that I know I’m acting a fool. I ‘m saying things that I shouldn’t be saying, I’m sending text messages that I shouldn’t be sending, I’m doing some nutty shit. For example, putting my husband’s guitar outside in the yard because I’m mad at him and I know that the guitar is his heart and soul, taking a god damn picture of it, and sending it to his phone while he’s at a mutual friend’s house. Then of course I put the guitar back where it belonged because I had no intention of hurting it or leaving it in the yard for it to get rained on and ruined. Why did I do that? Looking back, it’s because I couldn’t control my emotions or my thoughts or even what my body was doing (no, I didn’t shit myself (that time)… I mean breathing erratically, darting my eyes, repeatedly smoothing out the cow-lick in my hair at the top of my scalp)… but I could control where the guitar was and how I affected my husband. No, by no means is this healthy nor do I condone my actions of that time. But it happened. It caused some major changes with how I took a hold of this motherfucker called anxiety. (hah “take a hold” … um, I mean “acknowledge that I need to probably maybe learn a thing or two about it not making other people’s lives suck”)

My anxiety can get so bad that after I act a fool, I don’t exactly remember HOW I acted or what I said until confronted with my actions the next day or when I re-read text messages. I’ll explain this the best that I can: I know I’m acting wrong but my mind is spewing so much negativity that it almost feels RIGHT to do. But I’ve realized that I can act as crazy as I want, really, and do what makes me feel better (as crazy as it appears to others) as long as I’m not hurting anyone else. Putting my husband’s guitar in the yard was irrational, yep, and embarrassing him in front of his friend (because they actually drove over to get the guitar out of the yard… only to find out that it was inside, safe, on the guitar racky thing) caused some issues. This is a price I have to pay by letting my illness cause harm to another person. I can honestly say that I’ve come a lllllonnng way since the guitar incident. I believe that I am forgiven by both parties involved in that fucked up night but my actions, I’m almost positive,  will never be forgotten.


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