anxiety-attack

Anxiety, and the physical symptoms it causes, is merely fog along the path of independence and discovery.

Okay, I__l just jump right out and say it. I have anxiety issues.

When I feel threatened, vulnerable, or insecure, whether it from simply walking into a room of unknown people, meeting someone for the first time, an unexpected or expected confrontation, or doing something new, I affirm in my mind (over and over): There is no danger, there is no threat. From there, the discomfort lessens and I become open for discovery and adventure.

Anxiety and depression, and the physical symptoms they cause, are merely distractions and smokescreens to __rotect_ you from dangers, which are usually, imaginary.

Today I wore a pair of faded old jeans and a plain grey baggy shirt. I hadn't even taken a shower, and I did not put on an ounce of makeup. I grabbed a worn out black oversized jacket to cover myself with even though it is warm outside. I have made conscious decisions lately to look like less of what I felt a male would want to see. I want to disappear.

John was still making comments regarding violent things that he shouldn't, but I hoped he was just being a big mouth. Nobody was going to listen to me anyway.

No amount of me trying to explain myself was doing any good. I didn't even know what was going on inside of me, so how could I have explained it to them?

He told me that if I hung up, he'd do it. He would commit suicide. He told me that if I called the cops he would kill every single one of them and I knew that he had the potential and the means to do it

It is not a single crime when a child is photographed while sexually assaulted (raped.) It is a life time crime that should have life time punishments attached to it. If the surviving child is, more often than not, going to suffer for life for the crime(s) committed against them, shouldn't the pedophiles suffer just as long? If it often takes decades for survivors to come to terms with exactly how much damage was caused to them, why are there time limits for prosecution?

The story of my birth that my mother told me went like this: "When you were coming out I wasn't ready yet and neither was the nurse. The nurse tried to push you back in, but I shit on the table and when you came out, you landed in my shit."If there ever was a way to sum things up, the story of my birth was it.

Intimidated, old traumas triggered, and fearing for my safety, I did what I felt I needed to do.

It was a myth you couldn't function on opiates: shooting up was one thing but for someone like me-jumping at pigeons beating from the sidewalk, afflicted with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder practically to the point of spasticity and cerebral palsy-pills were the key to being not only competent, but high-functioning.

At that moment my shyness and anxiety all flooded back and I took a few steps back, and then sank to the ground; crouching, overwhelmed, covering my face. __hat will he think? What if he already hates me? Maybe I was wrong in the first place? Maybe he didn__ like me at all._ No matter how much I tried, I wasn__ able to produce a single positive thought to counter my panic. I wasn__ able to take a deep breath and relax. This day had been too eventful. I began to shake furiously, afraid of what was to come. __e hates me! He hates me!_ I thought over and over. Hot tears began to fall down my cheeks and I squeezed my eyes trying to stop them. My breathing quickened. What was I doing? I had said what I wanted, proudly, trying to be something to him but here I was: a total mess.__hat kind of a confession ends in a panic attack? GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!_ I thought furiously, my efforts rewarded with futility. The world started to spin, my mouth becoming numb for reasons I couldn__ understand, almost as if to prevent me from panicking aloud. As if I had the friggin_ courage.

The worst part about anxiety attacks, is that you__e aware it__ irrational and sometimes unexplainable, but knowing that gives no aid what so ever. In most cases, it deepens the anxiety as you realise __f I know it__ irrational, why can__ I stop it_ Oh god I can__ stop it_ you begin to believe you are no longer in control of your mind. That. That is fear.

Anxiety is the monster that resides within.

I wish I could tell every single woman with depression or anxiety or who has gotten herself into a situation that she doesn't think she can get out of, that something life-changing could be around the corner. You just have to wait, it will come, this slump isn't forever.