Tuesday, October 25, 2016

The Shackles of Anxiety

I'm driving in my car, thinking to myself "I can do this, I can do this." I round the corner and my heart   beats faster every block closer I get to my destination. I attempt to turn into the parking lot, I jerk the steering wheel in the opposite direction and think "park across the street so you can see who is going in."

I'm so nervous. My anxiety is through the roof, my heart beating fast, mouth dry, palms sweaty. Mom's spaghetti? Wait that last part is from a song. Concentrate. It feels like there is a lump in my throat. I think my co-woker said that is called globus. Sounds like a travel agency.

I see a few people go in. I can do this, I can do this. I stare at my runners on the seat, just pick them up, open your door and go into the school. Nope not yet, I got here early for a reason, so I can work up the courage to go in. A couple more minutes pass, it's an all or nothing moment. I grab my shoes, open my car door and cross the street.

I open the school doors and walk down the hallway. My heart beating fast, nauseated, and the globus in my throat. That reminds me, I should plan my next vacation. I round the corner and I see a few guys sitting outside the gym. I try to make eye contact and smile, they look away. I nervously grab my phone and start looking on Facebook.

In my last therapy session we talked about how I need to be physically active. It will help with my joint pain and my mood. I've been wanting to go to recreational volleyball which is run through a local gay and lesbian sports league. Meeting new people isn't easy for me, you know with the anxiety and all. Hard to make conversation when you have a travel agency, I mean globus in your throat.

A few more guys show up and they all know each other. Everyone is laughing and hugging and catching up since the last time. Fuck. This is what I was afraid of. Afraid it was going to be a close knit group and I would have to awkwardly wiggle my way in. I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack and freak out. I try to covertly control my anxiety and tell myself, breathe, breathe. I manage to calm myself down. I tell myself once were in the gym and we get setup and were playing I will be so happy I did this.

The doors open, everyone goes into the gym and starts changing. Okay, so change rooms aren't a thing, nice underwear. I'm awkwardly standing against the wall while everyone is still chatting and having a gay old time. My anxiety is going through the roof again. Two of the guys are setting up the net, people start getting together and practicing. Do I just walk over an join them? I would, but my feet are stuck to the ground. Can globus travel to your feet? Who is running the volleyball? Who do I give my money to? Why are they spiking the ball? I thought this was a recreational league. TOO MUCH!

FUCK THIS! I can't do this. Grab my shoes, stare at the ground and I walk out of there. As I open the gym doors, my lip is quivering, I'm doing everything I can not to cry. My eyes are tearing up, I get out of the school and there are some junior high kids hanging outside of the school. I look to the side, I don't want them to see me, this pathetic old man about to cry. I speed walk to my car, come on globus lets pick up the pace! I get in my car, slam the door shut and start crying. I slam my fist on the steering wheel and yell FUCK! What is wrong with you?!

I'm crying because I feel pathetic, I feel stupid and embarrassed. It's just recreational volleyball, what's the big deal? This shouldn't be so hard. A normal person would of just said "Hi, I'm here for the volleyball, who do I pay my money to?"

But. I have to give myself credit. I drove there. I got out of my car. I went into the school. Hell, I went into the gym. Yes, I left but I made it farther than I thought I would. I tried, I gave it my best. Each attempt is a step in the right direction. Do not give up.

Take that globus, not telling me I can't cancel my flight without penalty. Shit wrong globus.

Monday, October 10, 2016

Tired of Being Tired

I'm tired. I'm tired of being tired. Tired of fighting. Fighting to live. Fighting to be mentally healthy. Fighting to love myself.

It's too much. I'm exhausted. It's a constant struggle. HIV. Asthma. Arthritis. IBS. Bipolar. Anxiety. Welcome to my pity party, I can cry if I want to. Today I didn't wake up till three pm. That's not true, I was first up around noon and couldn't get out of bed. The safety of my bed had me wrapped tightly in his arms. If I don't leave bed, I don't have to face the struggles of the day. If I allow myself to fall back asleep then I don't have to think about the life I hate. I fell back asleep and woke up around two. I went on my phone trying to distract myself. That didn't work as I saw on twitter it was mental health awareness day and that got me thinking about how I was feeling and relating to what people were posting.

I thought to myself, just get up, go make a coffee, it's simple. But then the evil part of my brain that's busy being depressed said to me "No it's not! Stay in bed. If you make coffee, you have to remove the blanket, get up, put on pants (the pants would only be for my roommates benefit), put on a shirt, put on your slippers, walk to the bedroom door, open the door, walk down the hallway, open another door, walk up the stairs, put the coffee capsule in the machine, lock the lid, press the button, wait for the coffee to fill up, grab coffee cup, go down the stairs, back through the door, back down the hallway, through the bedroom door, sit down, take a sip and ruminate about how shitty life is." So  yup, I stayed in bed for another couple hours. My bladder being full finally got me out of bed, which then led me to my couch and watching The Flash.

Work has been super stressful. I've been so stressed my IBS is acting up, my jaw and neck are sore from being tense, I've been having dizzy spells too. The other day at work, I had been go, go, go. I finally realized I hadn't eaten anything five hours into my shift. I went to Harvey's and ate. I got back to work, sat down in my chair and I felt lightheaded which quickly shifted to dizziness and then my eyes got heavy, a wave of blackness went over me and I almost fell face first in the keyboard. Thankfully I didn't faint but that was the closest I ever felt. It was intense. No time for the weak though, I logged into my computer to pump out more work.

Last February I went on short term disability for two and a half months. I was feeling like I do right now. I started seeing a therapist, I still see him every two to three weeks. I feel I didn't give myself enough time to build structure and get myself mentally healthy when I returned to work. I felt guilty that my co-workers had to pick up the slack and felt I needed to show I can do my part and even more now that I was back. My manager is aware I have HIV and Bi-Polar disorder. I've told her one of the main things I need is a consistent schedule. I struggle trying not to sleep too much. My therapist has told me it's important I get up at the same time every day to build that consistency. I find it difficult to do, when my start time isn't the same or is later in the day. My goal is to get up at eight thirty am every day and not hit snooze. This week I am working noon to eight. Since my mood is in the crapper it is very difficult for me to not hit snooze and sleep to the last possible second. If I'm asleep, I don't have to feel.

Recently we lost two supervisors and that meant the supervisors were down two people in their schedule rotation. One of the supervisors expressed concerned that I don't work the same hours as the rest of the team so out of guilt I volunteered to be a part of the rotation temporarily and work a late week every four weeks. That was a mistake. I have fallen back into old habits and my mood keeps getting worse. I feel stupid writing about this. It feels so dumb that this should be such an issue.

Getting up at eight thirty am each day shouldn't be hard, how can it have such an impact on my mental health? But I know it's important and I know it does. I know I need to say I can't work these late weeks anymore. And I also need to say I can't handle the current workload, I need to get my mental health back on track so that I can be a productive employee. Sigh, easier said than done. My arch nemesis anxiety is filling my head with all the irrational things that can go wrong.

I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being in pain. I'm tried of struggling. Just so tired.