Today started off bad.
Last night was great! I spent time with a lot of different people, but I didn’t feel overwhelmed by them. I cuddled a puppy, ate a cake ball, and I got to ride around and see new places. For several hours I got to escape the anxiety which has been overwhelming me all week. I got back to my dorm, ignored the mess I’ve let overcome my room, and got into bed.
Then I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I got up at 10, which is the norm for me on weekends, and I had breakfast. I came back to my dorm, once again overwhelmed by the mess I’ve accumulated, and crawled into bed. I didn’t crawl out of bed until 3:30.
Saturdays have been great this year. I have breakfast, I get ready, and I tailgate. I don’t drink, but I get to hangout with people that I, usually, know don’t hate me and I can leave whenever I please and overall it’s a positive experience.
Today I didn’t tailgate. It took me two hours to de-clutter my desk and organize my groceries–and not because there was a lot to clean, but because every time I touched something I felt overwhelmed by its existence.
Anxiety isn’t fun. I decided to YouTube some self care videos, because they always help me calm down and make me feel less alone. I stumbled upon one which called anxiety “something that keeps me safe.” I don’t know why, exactly, but it made me angry.
I understand silver linings, I do. I’m at a point in my life where I work to find them in every situation. But there is no silver lining to anxiety.
There is no enjoying the constant feeling like every person I’ve met thinks I’m awful. There is no enjoying hating myself every time I open my mouth because I’m convinced that whatever I’ve said has made the people I’m with hate me. There is no enjoying being unable to leave my dorm room.
Last night I tried to explain it to a friend of mine–that I’m not joking when I say I think people hate me. That I say it as a joke because I can’t control it coming out of my mouth but I don’t want people to feel bad for me or, worse, think I’m weird or, worst, actually grow to hate me because of it. And he didn’t have much to say in response. He was distracted. I don’t fault him for that. We’re not that close.
I used to think I was feeling anxious for attention. That I wanted people to look at me so I pretended to feel overwhelmed. Which, in turn, made me hate myself more.
Why couldn’t I have just come out normal?
I think my anxiety confuses people with whom I try to discuss it. I’m introverted. I have social anxiety. But I’m also loud, and talkative. In the right settings, with the right people I seem completely normal. So when I try to say, “Hey, you know, I have to leave because there are more than ten people here now and it’s making me want to cry.” All I can actually say is, “I’m going to go, I got a headache.”
Because nobody says anything against a headache.
“It’s just us that’s there,” people in my frat say.
My anxiety doesn’t care about who you are to me, I want to scream.
My social anxiety has been almost impossible to talk about. I’m angry that I developed it in such a social and evolutionary part of my life. There is no positive spin on it. It sucks. Clean and simple.
It took me two hours but I cleaned up my room. Tonight I will recharge, because tomorrow I have to spend hours around people again.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.