Recently I have found myself under an astronomical amount of stress. Between making sure that all of the bills are paid, that I go to work every day because I cannot afford to miss more than one day a month (if that), and that we as a household are happy, I cannot seem to catch a break. One thing after the other is added to the large pile that has situated itself directly on my shoulders until I cannot physically hold myself up anymore.
The other night the members of my household got to witness what it is like when I have a full-blown anxiety attack. Since our house has been under so much stress, we are all on edge. My roommate was extremely mad when we came home from grabbing our other roommate and proceeded to tell us what had made him so mad. This, of course, sets me off even more than I had already been. This news had the potential to screw over each one of us. This news was enough to make me fear for my well-being more than I had already begun to fear for it before. My home was at stake with this news. I was broken. This had finally pushed me over the edge.
The moment that I had felt physical contact after learning of this, I could feel the precious glass case enclosing my feelings and emotions shatter. I had to tell myself to calm down. The moment that my fiance touched me, I broke completely. I cried. I cried hard. I cried for a while. My fiance very carefully lowered me to the ground when I could no longer hold myself up. I feel like I may have even passed out for just a moment.
Once the crying originally passed, I was still trapped in my mind on the floor in my living room. I didn't want to move. I wanted to make myself as small as I could possibly be. My mind did not allow me to move. Any movement was helped by my fiance. I wanted to crawl away where no one would be able to find me. If no one could find me, no one could hurt me.
This was all made worse when she came home. We were all in a pretty messed up place. It seemed like she understood that already or knew that no one wanted her around at that point in time. People who I have known for well over 10 years were seeing me in a state of vulnerability that I never wanted anyone to see me in. When she came home, I was back to the crying mess that I had been. I was having difficulty trying to catch my breath. I couldn't calm down. It just did not seem possible.
But, of course, like all anxiety attacks, it finally came to an end. But there is something that most people forget about when it comes to anxiety attacks: the aftermath.
When I, personally, have a full blown anxiety attack like I did that night, it seems to take my body and my psyche quite some time to recuperate.
See, I am a bottler. For those of you who are able to process your emotions in a healthy way: this means that I try to hold my negative feelings in for as long as I possibly can. I do not want to burden anyone with how I am feeling, especially when I know that they are going through their own problems. Instead, I just try to push these feelings as far down as I can. I will handle them another time. The only problem is, the only way that time is coming is when the feeling that I am trying to push down causes my bottle to explode. Once it starts, there's no stopping it. I have to cry. I have to hurt. I have to feel.
Add bouts of depression on to it and it makes the healing process take even longer. I am watching my anxiety become worse. It takes me longer to get over the smallest of things. Everything feels like a challenge. But I know that this will pass. It may take a little bit longer than the last severe anxiety attack that I had but I will heal.
So, for those of you battling your demons: I know that you can do it. Just keep taking one step at a time.
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