Everyone's an Expert!

I had a reeeeally bad weekend last weekend. One of the worst weekends I've had in years. One of the worst weekends I've ever had. It was a stay-in-bed weekend. A weekend where you wish you had the flu instead because that would be more comfortable. Because my heart felt like it was tearing, and I was aching for connection, but unable to ask for it, let alone accept it when offered. I didn't go to church. I cancelled a dinner with my parents. I didn't admit to anyone how bad it was until the end of a very long day in bed on Saturday.

Everyone seemed to know what would fix it all. The fact that I was not at all persuadable speaks to how bad I was. I couldn't be talked into going to church the next day. I couldn't be talked into having dinner with my parents. My close friends knew that this is where I should be on Sunday. They knew I shouldn't be in bed. I knew I shouldn't be. I just didn't care. I didn't want to be around people. I was too low to hide how low I was, and I didn't want to show that to anyone but a few close trusted friends. Unfortunately that one on one time was not an option right away. Not to say that they didn't worry, and try to help me, and offer solutions. What I wish had happened, and what would have happened in a simple world or another life, is that someone would have dropped everything and come to me. Because what I really needed? A hug. Still haven't gotten that one. I suck at asking for hugs. Yes, where I was at was my choice. But I was at a place in my head where I had stopped caring. And interestingly enough, at least one friend seemed irritated with me for that choice, almost overshadowing her concern. Maybe that had to do with the belief that I was much too strong to be so easily hobbled. Maybe it was a belief that my predicament was an attempt to manipulate for attention. I don't know. I just know that between that and the response of a friend who was pushing me to see my counselor this week like she was about to put me on suicide watch, I felt kind of misunderstood. Yeah, apparently communication is not as strong a point for me as I thought it was. Great. More stuff to fix.

Apparently It Never Ends.

The communicating, that is. I have been having a hard time the last week or so, partially because Coolgirl, who is very much an important person in my life now, has been quite distracted by a love interest. This has meant that she has not been talking to me and needing me the way that she was before this popped up, which is not to say that we don't talk practically daily and often spend time together at work (doing work-ish and non-workish things). As we have very well established, I worry about friends leaving me, and this worry has been very much at the forefront of my mind the last few weeks, not just because of Coolgirl but because of other friends as well. I totally thought when I finally pinpointed the center of my anxiety, I would instantly not be as panicked and quickly become less crazy. Turns out that's not how it works. I've been panicking, and the fact that I can identify the craziness of it, and the pattern of it doesn't make it any less painful or debilitating. So I have talked with Coolgirl some more.

I feel like I'm being so tiresome, bringing it up again and again, and telling her that I want her attention again and again. She says that it's not a big deal, and that I'm uncomfortable with communicating about it because it's a new thing for me. But I still can't quite dissuade myself that deep down, this is impacting the way that she views me and ultimately it will convince her that our friendship has gone deep enough and doesn't need to become deeper, thank you very much, crazy lady. I hope that's not what will happen. She assures me she won't be going anywhere, and I believe her. But I also know that people change, and their feelings about their friends change, and someday she COULD wake up and realize that I am way too much drama, and that it's not worth it. She COULD cut me out of her life. I know this because I've had a deeply trusted friend do essentially this. I do not believe that Coolgirl is that type of person., not even deep down in my crazy place. This insecurity feels so ugly and juvenile and gross that I AM deep down convinced that it can't feel good to be close to such ookiness. Whatever I may know on other levels, I don't know how to change that thinking. I feel like I am oozing these toxic feelings, and there is no containing them.

I can't seem to find perspective on this. I feel like I talk about this and think about it too much. But at the same time, I feel like I am making progress because I am finally identifying the root, or something close to the root, of my feelings. And I know that I have to keep thinking about it and talking about it to understand it. And I THINK that if one of my friends was talking this out with me I would not be bothered to hear about it over and over again, and I would be happy to see them making progress. But at the same time, I wonder if it's asking too much to expect a friend to have conversations over and over again about how their innocent, normal, justifiable actions are bringing out feelings of pain and anxiety. I have been trying to emphasize with her that I don't blame her, and am not saying I think she needs to change or is in any way failing me as a friend. I hope that she believes that I believe what I am saying. I know that a lot of this is about me figuring out how to deal with my feelings and communicate like a grownup and not get all paranoid and hyperventilate-y inside. I would really like to be at that happy place. I'm tired of being in this place. So why can't I just decide to be there? To be normal and sane and not spinney in the head? I find this part annoying. I would like to be all better now. I would like not to be the crazy friend.

Mother of all Anxiety Attacks

Had a huge anxiety attack yesterday. I didn't really identify it as one fully until the very end. It was triggered by something that happened around noon and it continued until about midnight. I cried so hard at the end that I have sore crying muscles in my chest and stomach. I figured out near the end that I was feeling like crap for some very specific reasons. It was, I realized, based on a feeling of panic due to fear of abandonment. Still can't figure out why I have such a deep fear. I mean, I can think of different things from my adolescence on, but what started this irrational panic I have?

The feeling of panic I was feeling due to the perceived abandonment was exacerbated by the fact that I couldn't get hold of any of my friends. Coolgirl was having a crappy day herself, and my BFF was too stressed out and made it pretty clear (via text) that she did not have time to chat yesterday. She would have found a way to make it work had she realized the condition I was in, as would Coolgirl, but of course I shut down and isolated because I don't want to be a nuisance to my friends. Because, you know, they might get sick of me and leave.

Even writing about the feelings I was having yesterday is making me feel a little bit sick right at the bottom of my rib cage. Usually with anxiety I feel it in my heart (and I mean my emotional/spiritual heart, not the organ, if that makes sense). With this anxiety, it seems closer to my gut, and I swear I felt something ping last night when I started realizing what it was that was hurting me. I'm delving into deep feelings. And I don't understand why they impact me so deeply.

Coolgirl asked me what I was going to do for "self care" tonight. I am lying on my bed watching TV. Or staring into space. I alternate. I don't think that's what she meant. I should read or something. Writing is self-care, so at least I can tell her I did that. But I kind of just want to be numb. And doing more than lying here staring at the TV or space makes me think, which makes me not numb. I don't like it.

Mental Health is for the Crazies!

One of the things I have learned through my struggle with depression is how silly people can be about mental health. We can talk about having healthy teeth, healthy breasts, healthy feet, healthy skin, and people will go to their doctors if they observe symptoms that indicate illnesses of those parts of themselves. But mental health? Only crazy people have to check on their mental health. Because, you know, the majority of us are unquestionably healthy, and therefore don't need to even assess for symptoms. Because crazy is so obvious. And, you know, there's crazy and not crazy.

I have friends who struggle to understand my mental illness. Some tell me I just need to buck up, or go let loose, or some similar brilliant strategy for "feeling better." Some say they don't understand, but they believe that it is a struggle for me, and they continue to try to understand. Some commisserate and compare medications with me. The most frustrating to me are the friends who "try" to understand, but in their heads think that I might be using this depression thing as a crutch to explain bad days. And heaven forbid I suggest they or another loved one might be a little depressed. Because, you know, they don't sit and cry for hours. And all those other symptoms that I have explained to them apparently apply to the crutch category. Are those friends really trying to understand? Or are they just wishing I would change the subject? Because, you know, mental health is an uncomfortable subject. So it must not exist. If only that worked for bills.

So. Tired. Communicating. Hard.

I finally unstuck my tongue (or really my texting fingers, since verbalizing my feelings was far beyond my reach but I was desperate to put the words out there) and told Coolgirl that I was hugely and irrationally panicked about our friendship and losing her. She is truly an amazing friend. She called me right after she read my three page text admitting what great fear I had that the luster was gone off me and our friendship was doomed to fail since I am so flawed. She did not roll her eyes and tell me I am fine, but told me she was not going anywhere, reassuring me that our friendship is deepening, and that she thinks I am an extraordinary friend. I'm not going to lie, I still have some underlying panic. But it's out there now, and she knows it's an issue, and has helped assure me that I have nothing to fear. And she is very good at identifying my anxieties once I have named them to her and she helps drain the life out of them when they pop up.

I don't think she knew quite how painful it was for me to communicate this one until she called me and talked to me for a minute. I was very quiet, having cried enough I was all choked up. It took her a few minutes to realize I was crying. The typing of the text took a while because I kept crying so hard I would have to stop, wipe the tears off the keyboard, and clear my eyes so I could see the buttons. This seems to be one of my deepest wounds. It literally takes my words and my breath away. I feel so much better now that I have brought it further out into the light of day. It's still there, but it's not quite as ugly out in the open, and I'm hoping the light will help shrink it.

The amazing way she validates my feelings and helps me feel like a highly valued friend is one of the reasons I love her so much. It's also why I feel this suffocating fear of losing her friendship. Because friends like this don't come easy or often. And they are the most painful to lose. I know. I pray I will never lose her.

Insecurity, you annoy me. Go away.

The last few weeks I have come to understand more and more that my fear of losing friends is taking up a little too much space in my brain.

In a previous post I discussed my fear of abandonment, and even how I could feel it taking hold even as I was enjoying my deepening friendship with Coolgirl. She is truly a "kindred spirit," if I can borrow a phrase from Anne of Green Gables. You would never supposed when looking at the two of us, and comparing our life stories and current life situations that we would make such a deep connection. But she really has become one of my most valued friends. We have connected on so many levels. She understands me, and I feel like I have a pretty good understanding of her. I can tell her anything without fear of judgement. Recently I have felt myself panicking more and more that she is, in fact, realizing how terribly flawed I am, and that somehow this will cause her to reassess me and realize that the things she valued about me were in fact based on misconceptions. I felt intense fear, for example, when she expressed annoyance with me for laughing at her when she was angry. She did nothing more than be honest with me, and normally I would have felt contrite, apologized, and been more mindful of her feelings when she is frustrated with something. Instead, I was in tears. It was over the phone, so she didn't know the extent of my reaction, which I am grateful for. No need to let her know quite how crazy I am, right?

I have not been able to find a way to express to her what is going on in my head. On the one hand, I think, she doesn't need to know. I can work through this, and really, it doesn't have so much to do with her, as it has to do with me and my insecurities in regards to holding onto friends. The last thing I want to do is convince another friend I am clingy. On the other hand, I think she might possibly be the safest friend I could ever talk about this with. She has never told me my anxieties are silly. She gets how real anxiety can be, and she helps me see reason. My feelings are safe when I express them to her. So maybe in talking to her about this panic I feel, I can find the key to resolving my issue.

I tend to lean towards talking to her about it. Except that every time I think about talking about it, I realize that this is actually one of my deep dark, ugly feelings. It touches a deep nerve. It is humiliating to admit the desperation I feel about losing friends. She knows about some of the friends I have lost, either through a true end to the friendship or a geographical separation. She even, as before mentioned, knows about my abandonment issues. So this probably wouldn't be a huge revelation. So what am I so scared of telling her? What doesn't she already know? She doesn't know how ugly I sometimes think I am inside. She doesn't know how much I really hate myself sometimes. There are many parts of me that I love. Most of the time. But I feel like there is an ugly part that is scarring my soul, somehow. I'm not sure I can even put into words what it is that is so ugly. But I think I might be convinced, somewhere deep down, that other people can see the scar.

My counselor asked me how old I feel when I have those kinds of thoughts. I think I feel about 12 or 13, which would make sense, since one of my first, deep, meaningful friendships came to an end around that age, after many days of panicky feelings that I was annoying said friend. That particular friendship, she actually was reinforcing those feelings. In fact, often she would become angry out of nowhere. The adult me knows that my friends now don't do those things. But I still panic. I need some outside perspective, and I wonder if Coolgirl could help give it to me. Too bad my tongue becomes paralyzed every time I get the chance to tell her what is going on in my brain. And I'm still not sure I can explain, even after putting it into words here. I'm tired of this. I would like to not stress about this anymore. Can I be done?