Anxiety Overload

Sigh. Anxiety sucks.

Tonight is the closest I’ve been to a full blown, out of control, panic attack in awhile. Probably since Jake died. Such an awful feeling. We stopped to drop off stuff we got at Costco for Max’s sister. He comes back out to tell me his niece really wants me to come inside. Okay. I made it inside and just feel trapped. Horribly, literally trapped. Standing by the door to just say hello quick and I end up with his mom, sister and her mother in law RIGHT there. Questions. Comments. Wanting the number I purposely hadn’t shared. Wanting to schedule time to hang out. All in my bubble. And Max is nowhere in sight as his niece drug him off to look at something. It was probably minutes but felt like hours. I started to feel so hot. Trapped. Backed into a corner. With no way out. It was horrid. Super fucking horrid. He finally comes upstairs and I simply said let’s go and started opening the door. By the time I made it outside I was beyond angry, frustrated, ready to scream & cry. He apologized and said he’s glad that he isn’t the only one that thinks his family is annoying.

Obviously he doesn’t get it. They aren’t annoying. They’re super nice.  Yet, I need to be mentally prepared for that and work up to it. I had no idea everybody was there. No space. No time to process. I simply wasn’t ready for that at that point in the night. And I know I go into fight, flight or freeze. I would have ran but couldn’t. Obviously I won’t fight. Thus, I just felt frozen and stuck.

One thing is absolutely clear. I am NOT ready for a trip to Belize. Not today. Not next month. Currently not even in a year. I cannot do that to myself. Seeing my body’s response to just this – No way in hell. I have lots more healing and self work to do before I’ll EVER be ready for that. If ever. My therapist agreed and said as much a couple weeks ago when Max felt I was unreasonable saying I wouldn’t go even if he paid. She agreed fully it was too soon and would be too much. Yet, I had self doubts that maybe I was a jerk. Nope, not a jerk. Just an anxious, mentally damaged person.

My therapist often tells me I wear too good of a mask. That I’ve had years of learning how to control what people see and to look “put together” causing those around me to have no idea how much dysregulation really goes on inside my body.  In society I look like I function well, even if I’m dying inside. So true. It’s an awful feeling. One of those times “fake it til you make it” really bites you in the ass.

How can I bartend and waitress and social work so well if I’m a mess? It’s like my mind just goes somewhere else. Again, fake it until you make it. Pure disassociation. I also thought tonight – I’ve got a bar between me and these people. I can use my “flight skills” and run away to work. I’m never trapped. I’m never close enough to touch. And oddly, when people get too close, they seem to enjoy the attitude and being told to go away. Seriously, I swear every bartending shift gets me a “I just love your attitude”. Uhhh, thanks.

So now I’m just sitting on the shower floor. Breathing. Grounding. Trying to get back to a functional level to be productive and not just go to sleep. As really I’d like to escape to a world of benzodiazepines and bed. If I’m being honest.

It’s all just too much some days. Overwhelming. Exhausting. I can’t wait for December to be over. Expectations of peopling to be done. And going on my way and being alone. A lot. Truth. Nothing be the real, true feelings.