Skip to main content

what it's like to have anxiety

I wrote a post on Facebook a while a go (probably a few weeks ago) and deleted it because it got no 'likes' and I was convinced no one cared. Anyway, I wanted to copy it down on this blog so you'll have a glimpse inside how my mind works:


(or doesn't)


Simple things end up being very complicated things due to my anxiety.


For instance, making a cup of soup in my mug to sip quietly at my desk during lunch time.


Simple. I open the packet, pour the contents in, add boiling water, stir. Carry my mug back to my desk. DONE.


This is what actually happened:


I walked into the kitchen. I ripped open the soup packet.


Phew. All good so far.


"Hi Janet!" a male member of staff walks in and smiles as he greets me. He's unfamiliar to me, so my mind is racing - trying to place his name so I can  return his greeting. I'm now tightly gripping the packet in my hand. My palms are starting to sweat and my heart has started racing - "What is this guy's name???"


I carefully shake the dry soup mixture into my coffee mug.


Still doing okay so far. Now I just have to remember this guy's name.


"Did you enjoy the Easter long weekend?" He asks, helping himself to a cup of coffee and only casually glancing at me as he does so.


I'm panicking now. I cant for the life of me remember what I did over the long weekend. Probably just slept. I can't tell him that! He'll think I'm lazy.


He might shake his head sadly "What a waste of weekend"


What is your name???


He looks at me and I realise I haven't answered.


My mouth is dry and my tongue has stuck to the roof of my mouth.


He raises a friendly eyebrow in question. I can almost hear his inner monologue asking "hello? did you hear me?"


I want to say "Yep, I had a great time - did you enjoy your weekend?"


or maybe "I'm not sure what to say - not quite awake yet, sorry"


...Only now I'm really panicking. I'm worried I'm being weird. I'm worried this length of silence is lasting minutes instead of seconds...or maybe hours. How long have we been stood here in the kitchen? My brow is starting to sweat and I can feel little bubbles of sweat on my top lip. My heart is hammering so hard that my chest is starting to hurt.


Pressured to say or at least do something, I offer a wobbly smile.


I force out the word "Yep" and have to clear my throat because it physically hurt having to do so.


What have I just agreed to?


My body goes into autopilot and as I'm usually in the kitchen for a cup of tea, my arms automatically reach for the sugar canister and I add 2 teaspoons of sugar to my mug. (Which also has dry soup contents in it).


I've now missed whatever "whats-his-name" has said. Again.


Oh God, Janet - just breathe. Just act normal.


I want to say "Pardon?" but then am so worried about him thinking I've been rude and not listened that I can't just be honest.


So I fake it. I smile and nod and say "Pfft. Yeah"


And he frowns, puzzled.


Still in auto-pilot, my hands move my mug under the boiler tap and I fill my cup with boiled water.


Why have I just done that?!? Why didn't I just admit I got confused and throw this horrible SWEET SOUP out when it was all still dry and way more manageable than it is now?


"Uh Janet..." says the guy "Are you ok?"


"I'm fine" I answer, quickly...and to prove how "fine" I am, I take a sip of my soup with sugar in it.


My brain/body aren't having any more of my bullsh*t and respond by making me splutter. I'm now splurting horrible soup and sugar down the front of my work dress.


Great.


The guy shakes his head and walks away, bemused.


I spend the next FIVE HOURS going over and over the incident and burying my head in my hands in complete despair with myself each time.


Am I ever going to be normal?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

10 days

 that's how long it took for my friend...let's call him "Adrian"...to open a letter from me. Adrian's had a rough time of late with 2 of his closest friends dying within months of each other. I wanted to send him some support and encouragement in the post so I picked a card with a load of cartoon acorns on the front. The card read "If I had an acorn for every time I thought of you, other people would say I had too many acorns!" then inside, the card said "And they'd be wrong!" It was so cute, even in the store as I read it, I knew I loved it and wanted to buy it for someone. I wrote about how I'd be there for Adrian any time he needed to talk and that he was loved and not alone. I posted it off with a happy smile and hoped it would bless him. I think it took about a week for the card to reach Adrian...but I didn't hear anything back from him for almost 3 weeks all up...because he was scared to open his card. Adrian's anxiety had...

Closing this blog and starting a new one, guys :)

This site is too old! I'm struggling to use it so I've created a brand new blog on "WordPress". here's the new link: https://wordpress.com/view/janetvdepression.wordpress.com So far, it's just a collection of my favourite blogs from THIS site transferred to it's new home...but from tomorrow onwards, I'll be adding new posts daily I think? Thank you for reading along with me all these years, you mean the world to me. Love you guys xx ps. If the blog link doesn't work, please email me at janethill0505@gmail.com so I don't lose your readership. Big hugs xx

I learnt to cook because my Mom left us

My parents have "been together" for 38 years. And I used "been together" very loosely because in all those years, about 28 of them has been incredibly rocky. My parents have screamed, shouted, threatened and hurt each other more than I thought anyone could. They've constantly split up and gotten back together. Every time they split up, we had to move house and I had to ferry my younger brother between two homes and make it seem like an adventure "Yay!Sleepover at Dad's!" so he could live a basically normal life. On one of their MANY break ups, my parents each got a new partner. Mom went out with this Dutch guy and to this day I don't know his name because I called him "Meathead". He was like a well-meaning ogre who rode a motorbike.  Anyway, when Mom starting "seeing" Meathead, she and I got into a huge fight about how she was never home (she wasn't) and Mom decided to leave us altogether. I was in my late teens so Jay w...