irritability – Brutally Honest Eccentric

My anxiety is loud.

In a group I belong to someone shared a picture saying “My anxiety is quiet” – it went on to say that others wouldn’t see an outward change. That they are not lazy, just overwhelmed. I understand this. Sometimes, my anxiety is quiet…

However, most times – my anxiety is SCREAMING loud.

My initial reply was, “my anxiety is loud… sometimes in volume and sometimes in action – i cry sometimes. i say ‘i can do this’ repeatedly under my breath until i can really do it, i get overwhelmed and pass out, i get about two minutes warning on that, my eyes start closing, nothing i can do will stop it. i stare off into space… stop talking… words trail off… when i shake my head and see again, it starts over… i organize ideas and shift them, i talk about what i’m going to do and how terrifying it is in hopes that someone else knowing will make it less scary… i have other people dial the phone or even just hit the call button…. i can’t even make myself make coffee some mornings… not because i’m lazy but because i’m afraid i’ll screw it up… my anxiety is so loud.”

But there’s more, isn’t there…

Sometimes i’m doubled over in pain from my chest. Sometimes I overheat until I get nauseous. My anxiety clouds my judgment. It forces me to forget things I am afraid of trying to protect myself instinctively. I lay awake for hours trying to quiet the fear that something horrible is about to happen.

My anxiety is deafening. So much so that I cannot always even hear people speaking to me. I become oblivious to what is around me because I’m so focused I can’t see it… or because I’m so hyper-vigilant in my fear that I see all of it. I fidget endlessly, or I’m stuck unable to move.

I see so many things that say “anxiety is… ” or “depression is” or “having anxiety and depression is…” but let me be really clear a moment. The only completion to any of those is “personal”. They affect us all differently. Knowing one person’s symptoms does not mean you understand everyone’s.

My anxiety is loud. What is yours?

~Brutally Honest Eccentric~

It’s a little harder for us…

Things you stop taking for granted when you have mental illness:

Sleeping through the night
Showering regularly
Getting out of bed
Getting dressed
Leaving the house
Going to parties
Finding joy in your own hobbies
Talking on the phone
Being able to make your own appointments
Feeling loved
Remembering to eat
Caring if you don’t
Being mildly annoyed instead of severely agitated
Smiling
Going an entire day without bursting into tears

There are so many more, but having the attention span to read long lists would be one of mine. I’m not saying that people should consciously appreciate the things that we can’t do and they can, but I wanted to just take a short moment to say, “Hey, we get that this comes easy to you, but it’s really hard for us, and no we’re not just saying that to get attention.”

What’s one thing you used to take for granted that you now have trouble with?

~Brutally Honest Eccentric~

Today hurts… so,

Can it just be enough?

Can it be enough for you if all I do today is love you? If all I do today is smile through the pain and give you a kiss? If I can’t think straight through the pain and I’m not sure I want to not think straight through the pills? Can it be enough if I just exist today?

If I can’t be there for you when you message me? Or if it’s been weeks and we should talk but I can’t dial? If I see that you’re hurting but I can’t explain that I care? If I am here and you know I’m here but I feel a million miles away?

Can it be enough that even through the pain I am still pushing to move forward?

I know there are things I should do, or would do if I were having a better day. I could shower, or maybe tell you that everything is going to be okay. If it were another day, I could do more than puzzle games and passing out. If it were a better day, I could actually giggle at your jokes, reassure you through your stress, and remind you how strong you are.

If it were a better day… but it isn’t. So, can it be enough for you if all I do is make it through to tomorrow?

~Brutally Honest Eccentric~

I. Hate. Everything.

I had every intention of writing yesterday. I opened the window several times to do so. I stared at the blank screen until I wanted to break it. I have gotten my blood test done but don’t have the results so I haven’t really fixed my medication yet. I’m not sure at the moment if I mentioned it’s off, but it is. Stopping one medication means throwing off the balance. I’m now actively riding the bipolar roller coaster. There is more than just up and down, more than mania and depression.

It has the ability to create or destroy almost any feeling – like irritability. That’s the one that kicks up most often for me right now. It comes when I have all the energy and nothing to do, and when I have everything to do and none of the energy. Most frustratingly, it comes on its own. It shows up as the “I hate everythings.” The normal annoyances are there, and the little ones I’ve grown to ignore or cope with become glaringly obvious. I stare at things that I would normally roll my eyes at and move on.

I hate the things people say, the way they say them, the way a picture looks or the meaning it’s supposed to hold. I hate the sound of a newscaster’s voice and realize I hate the sound of my own voice while complaining to the air. I hate that I let my coffee get cold and then I hate that I finished it because now I don’t have any. I hate my hair. I hate my mental illness. I hate my medications. I hate myself.

Maybe an hour later, maybe the next morning, this will pass. I will realize that I don’t really hate these things. Even while it’s happening I know I don’t hate them, but I FEEL like I do. Today is better. I still hate that my coffee is getting cold, but there’s more in the pot still and I know I can reheat it. I get frustrated at posts on social media but I shake my head, and I scroll by. My fingers don’t shake so badly at words on a screen or voices from speakers. I don’t cringe as badly when the cat meows (because for some reason she’s determined she must always tell us when she uses the litter box). I don’t want to cry just because I need to take my morning pills.

The world is no better than it was yesterday, but I feel better about being a part of it.