Warning: Expect foul language. I often blog when sleep deprived, and even when I'm not sleep deprived I cuss.
Warning the second: TMI often occurs. Read at your own risk. Feel free to laugh at my expense (I know I do!).
Warning the third: I suppose I should just put a general Trigger Warning here. I talk about mental illness (Anxiety, panic disorder, depression, social shit), abuse (rarely), and my fucked up relationship with food. And...other things. Actually, just consider this a general warning: If you might be triggered by things, you probably should read no further.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Anxiety Dreams, Yay!

So...yeah, anxiety dreams are annoying as hell. I call them anxiety dreams, but they're not exactly. It's hard to explain. If they were actual dreams, I would just call them bad dreams or nightmares. Anxiety dreams...are different. They're kind of like daydreams, but not. I hate the ones of the type I'm currently have the most, I think.
These anxiety dreams always happen late at night (or in the wee hours), usually after I have tried, unsuccessfully, to get to sleep. I will be lying in the dark and my mind will wander those lovely, dark, depressing, anxiety-inducing paths. I will lie there and my mind will go through every scenario of failure it can think of. I won't actually be asleep, but I will have particularly vivid "daydreams" that detail everything that will go wrong. I will usually become aware of what I'm doing only because my leg will be jiggling so hard it makes noise. Yeah, that whole "restless leg" thing may annoy people, but I appreciate it at moments like these. It clues me in to what's going on. If I clue in I can *maybe* do something about it. Even if that something is just giving up the attempt at sleep. If I give up the attempt at sleep I have a chance to distract myself.
I've been avoiding making the call to the social security office. Partially because I hate talking on the phone to people who unintentionally steamroller me into doing things (I mean, they have no real way of knowing that I have major difficulty disagreeing with them, but the effect is still the same :/ ). Partially because...I've been feeling good. I had this random period of a week where, for the first time in over a year, I felt like "Hey, I can totally work and get a job and support myself and not have to go on government aid!". It felt really good...until I quite abruptly crashed.
It was a different experience, that's for sure. I mean, I tend to be overconfident and overestimate what I can do, but nothing like this. It kind of reminded me of what a friend described the "highs" of being bipolar were like. Only not. It's so hard to explain these things, but I feel compelled to. Like...if I explain them maybe I can make sense of them and conquer them. In any case, it was a new and annoying experience. It wasn't just mental/emotional, I felt really good physically for that week. Which was nice.
So now I'll have to call social security and...BAH. I'll probably have to figure out a time to go in and talk to someone, because talking over the phone isn't working. Which means I'll have to find someone to go with me because, yeah, crazy. This is the difficulty, because my mom is not an option. She doesn't think I can get on disability (even though she's the one who encouraged me to apply). I can't help but think, based on little things my family members have said, that my family honestly thinks that I'm lazy. That if I'd just get off my ass and go to a doctor then he'll give me a magic pill that will make me ALL BETTER. My mom, at least, takes the physical side seriously. Most of the time. But I...I love her, but I don't entirely trust her and her opinion of me. Which makes the idea of her going with me (if she even WOULD (which is a whole 'nother story)) less than optimal.
Thus the anxiety dreams come into play. These little waking nightmares, you'd think they'd have me not getting aid and homeless in the streets or something. I mean, that would make sense, right? Nope. In every one I end up on disability. AND NEED IT. I end up going to Arizona and failing. Or if not fully failing, failing enough that I need a keeper. Why? Because I probably do. Personal hygiene is becoming a problem again. Eating is a problem again (fast and binge, fast and binge, food is disgusting because I'm a fat bitch who doesn't NEED to be eating, fast and binge, the thought of food turns my stomach, etc. etc. ad nauseum). I live in a haze punctuated by periods of physical discomfort as my fibro makes itself known.
At times like these it's hard to believe the hope that drives me. It's hard to believe that I can have a future, or at least one of the futures that I *WANT*. It's impossible to believe that someday I could go a day, DAYS, without pain. I'm so grateful for auto-pilot at moments like these, because it's the only thing that keeps the momentum going. Hell, auto-pilot is the only reason I was able to stay EMPLOYED for as long as I did. It's funny, I was known as the customer service queen. Customers loved me. There were days when I couldn't tell you what I'd done that day. Nobody noticed. Because my auto-pilot is DAMNED good.
I'm starting to ramble. Because it's the wee hours, I'm tired, I don't feel good, and my brain hates me. I'd planned on writing a post about my anxiety dreams about the fibro and related crazytown-ness, but apparently it wasn't to be. I would say "Fighting!", but I'm just too damn tired to fight right now. I'd rather have some cheesecake and watch movies. "Cheesecake, just what your fatass needs," says my oh-so-helpful brain. *sigh*
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I know it from past experience. I know I know it. I just wish it would hurry up and get better NOW.

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