Today My Anxiety Is Mean

I woke up this morning angry. There isn't any one thing that has made me this way. It is a compilation of losing a pregnancy, coming to work when a doctor told me to take off, the new girl being ridiculous and a gossip, the cleaning people ruining the flowers sitting on my desk, and my old apartment complex not sending me the refund they owe me. Oh, and not having taken my meds for two weeks. That'll do it too.

My anxiety makes me feel like drowning. One of my coworkers told me that there are all of these theories about the way anxiety feels from person to person. She tells me that her anxiety feels like impending doom, I just feel like I've been snatched under water. It's that feeling that you get as a kid in a pool when one of your friends decided to sneak up on you and pull you under. But, unlike those days, there's no breath of relief when they let go of your ankle and float back to the top with you. My anxiety holds me under until it feels like my lungs are empty of air, so close to gasping in water.

My anxiety is making me mean today. A week and a half of drowning has that effect. It's rare that I get like this. My anxiety makes me weep, and makes it hard to breathe, but never does it make me mean. I don't like feeling this way. I din't like that I can feel my skin attached to my muscles, and my muscles attached to my bones. I can feel the blood that's sitting under my skin that makes me red. I can feel the air that hits the heat that is me. I feel like I have turned into a ball of fire and anger and misery.

I've excused myself from the rest of the work day. I have cited that I am irrational and angry today, that I have no control over my attitude, and tone, and therefore should not participate in the office. I insist in my email that I cannot be professional, and do not want to make a poor impression on referrals and clients for our office. I say that it is unfair to my coworkers for me to be rude to them simply because I woke up feeling the devil sitting in the cage of my ribs.

I have come home to take a bath in mint and lavender, because those things are supposed to help. I turn on my salt lamp, because that is supposed to clear the air. I pretend that these things can temporarily replace medication and doctor's appointments. I pretend that this will be enough to fix my mood. I know that it's not, that I'll take this bath, and still be angry and irrational. I'll take a nap on my couch with my cat, who knows how long I'll sleep. It might be half an hour, or it might be the rest of the day. Perhaps I'll wake up and it will be tomorrow.

I've asked my significant other to come over when he can, though I know he may not be able to. My good ole farm boy always has busy days, sometimes he doesn't see my messages until late into the night. But maybe he'll get to come. He responded to me, though, surprised that I was mad. He's never seen me act like this. He doesn't judge me for it, but I know that it concerns him. I think he wonders if he'll be able to handle all of my crazy. I hope so. He's one of the few people that can calm me.

Perhaps I'll take my bath and my nap, and everything will be better. Everything will be fine, that's what I'm telling myself. There is something about feeling an anxiety like this that makes me feel helpless. The way that I handle my usual feelings doesn't work. The breathing deep, and thinking of whales doesn't make my pulse slow. The car ride home didn't make me feel less anxious over work. The hug from my favorite work friend only annoyed me more. I don't like this feeling, but this too shall come to pass, right?