Here goes nothin'

If we are being honest, I should say that half of me really doesn't care. Truly. I don't care if I wake up in the morning. I don't care if my kids eat cookies for breakfast, make it to school on time, or make it to school at all. I don't care if we stay in our pajamas all day long, and zero chores get done. I don't care one single bit.

I have no patience for the drama of daily life. People. Responsibilities. Drama with a capital "d".

I wish I could just sleep it all away.

I hurt.

On so many levels. It's hard to get one thought straight, let alone a strand of thoughts - enough to make a person appear to be assimilated in their own life.

Life.

That word seems so generic.

What is "life"? Breathing? A pulse? Does breathing in and out all day while my heart pumps make me "alive"?

Do you cry when you are sad?

Do I have to cry for the world to know that I am sad, so they will stop asking me how I am? Will I live in a perpetual state of sadness until I die? If I don't cry, does that mean that I am not sad?

If I don't cry, does that mean that I didn't love my brother?

 

Something that I don't tell people is that after I had Justice, over seven years ago, I was diagnosed and treated for G.A.D..

Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

I was on medication for nearly 18 months, then I weaned myself off and I haven't had many flare-ups since (with the exception of the rare family event that required a Xanex to participate in).

 

I am acutely aware of my emotions and anxiety levels at all times, and I would be lying if I said that I am "fine".

 

Let me try to explain where the myriad of emotions and thoughts is coming from:

Last night I had the worst panic attack I've ever experienced. And part of me is terrified that #1- I'm forcing myself to 'relapse' to gain credibility (is that even possible?!) and #2- I don't know what  to do with this. It feels like my body is being crushed by this heavy weight, but I am still able to function and have high-level output. Do I see my doctor? These thoughts in particular cause my heart rate to spike.

It is so ingrained in me to "get over it", and that scares me. On the other hand, am I subconsciously overreacting to gain power or attention, when, on the surface, I care less and less about these things every day? In fact, I despise pity and the attention that goes with fake empathy.

I am supremely adverse to even sharing these thoughts, so if you are reading this because I was brave enough to click 'publish', then consider it a stab in the face of stigma.

My panic attack has a very specific trigger.

I can see my solidarity, and I feel so very isolated by these thoughts and emotions. I recognize that not everyone can comprehend what I have gone through or what I am going through, and that causes me to shut down and internalize everything. I had a commonality with my brother. He shared experiences, and so much of our connection was unspoken, which has left a silent hole in my heart that I cannot fill with words or explanations.

Also, I am task-oriented. In my previous life (ie-life before Ryan died), I lived in a perpetual state of overwhelmedness, due to my ability to maintain quality output and my desire to earn affection through works. But now I have determined to prioritize and purposefully NOT overwhelm myself.

See my issue?

I am not performing, on my previous levels, but it is by my own design. I am trying to give myself a break, but the break is the very thing that is causing the most stress.

So what do I do with the stress? I ball it up inside and I say to myself "I don't care".

(see the cycle I have going?)

 

Thanks for letting me get it all out. I don't feel any better, or any less stressed. In fact, I feel more panicked that I am going to be judged harshly for this post.

If I post it at all.

 

--Julie--