Why, hello, anxiety! It seems like it’s been days since I’ve heard from you. I didn’t think of you, honestly, but let’s not dwell. You’re here now, and it’s as if you’d never left.
The anxiety thing is funny, if by ‘funny’ you mean ‘annoying.’ There’s almost always a thing that sets it off, so instead of being all say, I’m having an anxiety attack but everything is actually okay I think oh god I’ve made a huge mistake and now everything is going to hell in a handbasket. And I panic, because that’s what you do when things go to hell: you panic. What? You don’t? Well, that’s nice for you.
Even when I know I’m having an anxiety attack (which is most of the time), it’s sometimes hard to evaluate just how much of the triggering event is all in my head and how much is that I have actually, you know, irrevocably screwed up my life in a fit of incompetence. Because seeing that someone I know on a social networking site and adding them to my contact list only to have them send me an e-mail saying “I’m really not into social networking and I don’t know how there’s an account in my name” is probably NOT a sure sign of the apocalypse, but how can I be sure? Especially when that someone happens to be my landlord, who surely thinks I am a shifty, inappropriately-social cyber-stalker now. Just as an example.
If you’re wondering, my warning label would say “Contents Under Pressure.” And there would be a graphic of my head exploding. I might just have to make a tee-shirt out of that.
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