I'm So F**king Happy and I Want to Kill Myself

I'm not sure what it is about happiness that connects to sadness, but there is something. I got a call about a new position today and then a call that I'd have an interview, and then an interview, and then a call asking how the interview went and then at the end of that call my recruiter told me I'd gotten the job. All of this happened in one day. Holy shit! I'm so happy. My body hasn't known how to handle it at all. I got the call and then left both of my parents a voicemail. My dad called me from Colorado while having lunch with my brother asking me what had happened and I told him I got my new job and he was super happy and so was my mom.

At the end of the day I had ordered some pizza for my boyfriend and I and unpacked a little bit of the last box or two after having moved in about 3 weeks ago and I realized I really wanted to let out some creative energy. So I drew for a minute and got out my watercolors and I'm not sure if it was endorphins or my neighbors playing really loud music with a very loud bass, or if it was just endorphins from the whole of the day, but my anxiety suddenly crept up while I was painting. You know that feeling when you've been waiting all day and then suddenly you have a chance to do that thing you've been wanting to do all day, and you don't know for sure what to create, but at the same time you do and it's just so overwhelming? I was in the middle of the start of my painting and something in my brain said "you're going to have an anxiety attack soon. be prepared" and I was like ok that's fine, I'll just keep painting. Everything will be fine. Then about 10 seconds later the voice in my head came back and my heart pounded even more, but this time it said "you need to take care of this anxiety now or soon you won't be able to breathe or worse and I don't know what worse means yet but find comfort now please" and I stopped painting and went to sit next to my boyfriend and hugged his arm.

He was playing video games and he stopped and asked me, "what's wrong babe?" and I said "I'm not sure. I was painting and suddenly my heart started beating faster and I knew I needed company or something to stop it." He assured me that everything was ok and let me hug his arm as tight and as long as I needed. He said "what's wrong sweetie, tell me." I told him I didn't know, a lot of things were happening and I just didn't know how to handle it. He got to a stopping point in his game and reassured me that I was going to be great at my new temp job and I had nothing to worry about. He helped me out a great deal, but I still found it a little hard to breathe.

My teacher told me once that I was scared of success. I understood immediately, but when I told my mom, she was completely lost. I get it, though. What you have to say in the end is "fuck it, whatever is going to happen will happen". Don't get me wrong, I don't know how much I practice what I preach, but I hope this evens out some confusion for someone.