Tales of a Loony

So I suppose I should actually write things down. You know there's a problem when a writer doesn't want to express herself. I guess it's because I keep things bottled up inside. I don't share them, I don't go into them and even when I do, I might leave something out or I feel I'm complaining too much.

I guess it was easier with MDD when it was still in existance. At least then I wasn't have full blown anxiety.

Where to start........

Well, I guess I should begin at the start of this semester. I am taking hard classes. I knew that from the start. I knew that when Scott told me "this is a pretty high reading load" and I was like yeah yeah I can totally do it. Hello......I'm the kid who shocked her Kindergarten teacher because she knew how to read before she even got to school. I'm the kid who used to read during class and who dug into a few adult books at a relatively young age. I've been known to read 4 to 5 books at the same time. I could handle reading a few chapters every night. I could handle large research papers, projects and pieces of writing every few days. I could totally take an 8:30 AM class with no trouble....it's only two days a week.

Yeah, stupid me.

Apparently, the pressure has gotten to me and I didn't even realize it. I mean yeah.......I got sick. But why did I get sick?

Because I'm on the go. Becuase I don't get enough sleep, I don't eat well (and who really can at SVC?), and our school is a petri dish. I got sick and I ignored it. A normal cold turned into a small sinus infection and I ended up convincing myself that I was going to die.

My own brain, my own overactive imagination, became a torture device that I set on myself.

I was convinced I had a brain tumor. That I had cancer. That my heart would give out. That I would stop breathing in my sleep. That my heart would stop beating in my sleep. That I would faint in class or on the way to the bus. That I had mucus in my lungs and was going to get pneumonia or something like that.

Essentially, I convinced myself that something was seriously wrong with me. I convinced myself that I was probably going to die. And I got freaked out. Because there's a lot of things I want to do. I want to enjoy the rest of college. I want to keep having movie nights with the girls. I want to watch Host Club until 6 in the morning with everybody. I want to joke around with everyone. I want to go skulking with Doodle and finally tell what few teachers in high school I liked, exactly how much positive influence they had on me. I want to finally fix my public speaking issue and do more improv. I want to enjoy the seasons and the weather. I want to have more crazy mock fights. I want to keep having random conversations about nothing. I want to keep making my boy laugh. I want to graduate. I want to be published. I want to help kids, I want to get married. I want to havea family. I want to travel and do great things. I want to have epic road trips. I want to grow old with my boy.

So I was freaking out because I thought I wasn't going to be able to do these things. So I thought, what's the point of doing this homework? What's the point in going to this early morning class? Why is everything I'm reading for class suddenly as morbid as I feel?

And every night, it took me an hour to go to sleep becuase I had to calm myself down and re-convince myself that I was going to wake up in the morning. And this went on for an entire week.

Now, I've been to the doctors. There's nothing wrong with me. She listened to my heart and lungs. Nothing odd. She listened to and felt around my abdomen. Nothing out of place. She did a throat culture because my throat was kinda red and still, it came back negative. I got blood work done and no mono, no diseases, nothing wrong. I'm not even anemic.

I'm normal. Though my dad did point out that I'm not really normal.......I mean, I'm his daughter right?

Still, nothing is wrong with me.

And I feel a little better. But still, I have a bit of freaking out still about me. Last night it took me an hour and a half to get to sleep because I thought my heart was doing funky things. Even now I'm wondering if it is or if I'm breathing weird.

But it's apparently all in my head.

The doctor asked me which grade I'm in. She was rather surprised to find that I'm a junior in college. "Most of the time, anxiety shows up among Freshmen."

Yeah, well, my dad always said I'd probably be a late bloomer like him.

She suggested anxiety meds. She suggested talking to someone. My mother laughed when she said the Center.

"That's where I work actually."

I'm not one for medication. Counseling types make me nervous. So I really don't know what to do.

I'm still at home because I think I need it. I need a break from everything. I need a mini vacation, a chance to rest, be mothered and try to regain some sense of I can do it. Becuase apparently, it just got to be too much.

I'm so worried about staying on top of my grades, of getting on Provost's List again because I let my parents down too much in the past. I'm so freaked out about that.....about getting work done even when I can't concentrate and I procrastinate and make things harder for myself.........

I just make myself worse.

So here I am writing it down. Because maybe that was my problem. Yeah I talked a little bit about it to friends, to The Boy, to my parents. But not all of it and not all the time.

Maybe I just need to write it down. The writer must write.....right?