Well, not really, but every time I think about taking drugs, I think of that song
Am I the only TISM fan? Probably. So drugs, yeah, I’m on them. I’m on so many drugs that I have a drug log where I itemise all the drugs I’m taking, because I’m a nervous wreck. I’m a nervous wreck because of all the drugs I take and all the things I have to do each day. Yeah, I’m talking about that anxiety goblin. The bastard that stole my anniversary from me, and threw 6 months down the drain. To try and placate the bastard, Im now officially trying a new course of drugs to calm my mind and break the cycle of anxiety.
I know I’ve written about my anxiety before, and you might already have your own anxiety goblin or mental health demons knocking at your door, but I want to shout this stuff from the roof tops, because B. A. (Before Anxiety) I had no fucking clue about it. I thought anxiety was something that other people experienced. That mental illness and mental health issues were something that other people had. Other people might have panic attacks and not want to leave the house, but not, me. I’m fine.
But I’m not fine, and the other person is me. I’m that mental health statistic rattling around, popping pills to fix my broken brain. I know it sounds cavalier when I say taking drugs, and broken brain, but right now, cavalier is all I’ve got. For the past year, I’ve been blundering my way through anxiety and all the little trips, hints and techniques haven’t worked, so it’s time to take out the big guns. For the past year, I feel like I’ve been stuck in solidified amber. trying to move, but trapped in someone else’s aesthetic.
Ive tried walking, diet, sunshine, sleeping medication, drugs for indigestion, natural remedies and heal supplements. I had surgery, time off and time on the couch, but all I did was waste time and shut down. I haven’t been fun to be around. When people ask me how I am, I say, ‘I’m here’, or “I’m as good as I’m going to get’ because my brain can’t focus with all the bovine excrement I’m processing through on a daily basis. Each day, I’m fixated on what I can and can’t eat because the dietitian gave me a meal plan to see if I’m having anxiety problems due to processed food. I’m also controlled by my diet because I’m so wound up that my body isn’t processing my food properly, and on any given day, I might just have the urge to vomit from indigestion.
Well, that how I feel most days, sans curry, beer or funny friends.
But in all seriousness, my body is physically breaking down because my broken brain can’t produce the right chemical to deal with stress. Im the past, my coping mechanisms of a nice wine, some cheese or a nap just did’t cut it with level of stress associated with a PhD. In hindsight, it makes so much sense really. I mean, a PhD is hard. Like real hard. I thought I could cope, because I was prepared for it. I had some setbacks for my Honours, but I had learned from my mistakes, and I knew what my internal challengers were. I was on top of my triggers and though I was bigger than anything stress could throw at me. Until I realised I was sick. Physically and mental sick. I lost 30 KG and was having intrusive thoughts. Like, ‘you could just drive into that car.’ Or ” What if I vomit, right here. I’m not sick, but I could just vomit”. The scariest one- “you could jump out of that window”.
Anxiety is eating up my life. The wretched goblin is taking my time, stealing my energy and turning me into someone I never thought or know I could be, but I’m not going to let it take over. I’m on the drug (that killed River Phoenix), and I’m breaking free of these amber chains.