Here’s the thing about Anxiety storm season. When I get hit with a few anxiety storms (which I am now naming. The first one was Muffy Thundercunt and the last one was Sylvia Assbutt) then depression shows up to see what’s going on.
I’m not naming depression, though. Depression is the man in the mirrored sunglasses in Cool Hand Luke. Or the ghost of Christmas future. Anxiety is an asshole, but depression scares me. I know depression lies, but it feels so absolutely like the truth. Depression feels as though it has lifted the curtains, the constructs that we create to shield ourselves from how horrible reality can be and while it shows me how flimsy our shields really are, it also tells me how much I suck.
Anyway, weather a few anxiety storms and then things can sometimes get blown out of proportion. You guys, I am so good at that. Like expert level.
If I were the CEO of a company that created mountains out of molehills, I would be too big to fail.
Anxiety has settled in and taken the helm. Then, depression crept in. I can always feel it in my chest first. I feel like I’m being crushed by feathers.
Working during these times becomes difficult. I find it hard to concentrate when I have to swat away manufactured worries while pushing through the molasses of depression.
Sometimes, I can’t bat away a thought. The thought demands attention. This happened at work last week.
Joey spent the night with a friend, said they were going for a early morning run, and he’d return home. Then, I got a text from him saying he forgot his gym shoes and would be home early in the morning to get them.
Around 9:30 in the morning, I texted him and asked if he got his shoes.
A few hours went by. He didn’t respond, so I called Randy. Randy hadn’t heard from him, either. He said he texted him a few hours ago.
I could feel panic pouncing on the opportunity.
No. We’re not doing this. He’s fine. I’ll just call.
So I did. I called. I texted a few more times and then panic told me to fuck off, that it was taking over.
During times when my anxiety is at a manageable level, I might be a little worried, but also would assume he was sleeping in or something.
Since my anxiety was at hulking out, we just jumped into super massive anxiety level.
I texted the friend he was staying with. No answer. I texted another friend, thinking me might be with him. No answer.
The phone finder thingy. I can do that phone finder thingy.
I didn’t know how to do the phone finder thingy and I was panicking. 
I am slightly dyslexic and have a hard time following written instructions. When I panic, my reading comprehension takes a hit as well. But I did it, I tracked my phone.
Google showed me an overhead view of my work.
I tracked Randy’s phone and got an overhead view of my house.
Okay, awesome. This is just what I needed. I will track Joey’s phone now and see an overhead picture of Eli’s house and then…
What the fucking FUCK? What the fuck am I looking at?
The overhead view showed me my son’s phone location. A desolate patch of woods. A forest, really. No roads, no houses, nothing. There was, however, a murky green body of water, like you would see in a quarry. It looked like the place you would expect Paulie Walnuts from The Sopranos to dig a shallow grave to dispose of someone he just whacked.
My throat started tightening to a pinhole. This is what I’ll show the police. This is where they will find him.
I kept from crying through a sheer act of will. I couldn’t remember Joey’s friend’s last name, so I found him on Joey’s Facebook page, and Googled his name to find his address. I would leave work and go to Eli’s house to see if my red car was there and, if it wasn’t, then I’d start driving around looking for woods. I would find my son. And I would do all this during my lunch hour.
I was just getting my keys when my phone rang.
Joey: Mom, calm down. I was sleeping and my ringer was turned off.
I might have cried a little when we hung up.
By the time I got home from work, Joey had already left to go to his job. I sat on the couch and tried to find some way to get a handle on my brain. I tried explaining to Randy what was going on in my head, but I was not doing a good job of it. I don’t remember what Randy said, I do know it was an innocuous comment, but I started to cry. Just a little.
Then I took a five minute break from anything resembling reason and had a long braying snot filled cry. The following is a sampling of sentences I spoke while sobbing: (these are not in any particular order):
What have I done with my life?
I’m a cow.
I will die in a cubicle.
I’m hot.
I’ve ruined everything.
Writing is a folly.
Promise me that everything is really okay, okay? And you have to mean it or it doesn’t mean anything. (There might have been foot stomping).
Then, on top of all that, I blew my nose in a paper towel and then forgot I used the paper towel to blow my nose. I unwadded the paper towel and used it to dry my tears. So I sobbed, smeared snot all over my face, and that made me cry again.
I’m okay now. The ridiculous cry and a shower helped. I ended up falling asleep with a headache. I think the crying was like a tea kettle letting off steam.
I feel relatively calm for the first time in days.
Depression lies. And apparently, Google is in cahoots with depression.
I’m insure if depression lies but I’m willing to give it a try. Tired of it. Marijuana alleviates some depression for me . The ridiculousness of the world sets me off. All of the haters wasting their time hating. Funny/sad.
Yes, anxiety and depression have an unholy alliance. But both make me crawl into myself, feeling helpless. In bed this weekend-the books are good in between sleeping. Getting back to work will be a welcome diversion but the big, bad future is out there.
I struggle with that as well. The “not knowing” thing. I’ve always been afraid of the future and it’s exhausting.
Yes..the world is often a trigger..no doubt.
Beautifully Written. You could have been talking about me in that story. I can absolutely relate.
Thank you so much. I am sorry you can relate, though. Here’s to the days when the internal sun is shining. 🙂
Oh my! Honey, sounds like you needed a good cry… So do I, but I fear once I got going I wouldn’t be able to stop. (only half joking)
That asshole FindFriends app has shown MY son out in desolate fields (even when I know for FACT that he’s home, safely tucked in bed!), or adrift in the middle of Lake Ray Hubbard more times than I can count… Fuck that shit!
Yeah, I freaked the fuck OUT. Fucking google! And I kind of did that. I started crying and couldn’t stop. I don’t do that often, but when I do, it is spectacular.
Last night I got it in my head that there could be a fire at my ex’s house, and my autistic son would panic and not leave his room. The story grew in my head and developed into a full- fledged reality so 3D realistic I nearly called them (3 states away and at midnight) to make sure the house wasn’t burning and that they were all okay.
I understand this COMPLETELY. OMG do I understand it. My son is staying with friends of ours this week in the Smoky mountains. They have a pond on their land and I’ve decided he’s going to get in the pond and get the brain eating amoeba and die. It’s just insane. He’s not even planning to go swimming.
Sounds like we were all having hot snotty cry sessions.
Cathartic and messy, like the teakettle steam release.
Yes! LOVE that analogy 🙂
(I usually compare mine to the old fashioned pressure cooker that Gramma used to carefully tilt the release valve to the side on, so the whole thing wouldn’t blow. I have ALWAYS wanted one of those ‘pressure release valve’ thingy’s. THAT’S how long this shit’s been fucking with me… )
I never thought of naming my ‘sessions,’ although I do refer to them as ‘The Cry from Psych 121″ (I just remember my Professor asking me if I was OK and it was like the 3rd day of ‘facial leakage’ and I smiled and more liquid and snot came out and I said, “Yeah… I always live.”) or the most recent, “Made that bitch leave, where did Good Lisa hide?”
This last one has had ‘relapses’ through the whole year, not true deep down dirty depressions, just ‘hanging here on the edge to see if anything can push me over’ sessions that prove I am getting a handle on things whether I want to or not.
Therapy has a sneaky way of fucking you over like that.
I must be getting better, right?
Is ‘better’ just a nice way of saying that I understand my symptoms and can now take steps to pre-empt and/or lessen the severity?
Not when Google Maps says my kid is in the middle of a woodsy area with a lake, it doesn’t!
Glad I didn’t know about that last week… long story short, same as yours… sleeping with no ringer when he had my truck and I needed hay and I asked nice the day before so he must be dead or kidnapped.
Thanks for the warning. I can do enough in my own head without Gramma Google making me worry even more (Gramma is where the worry gene comes from 😉 )
But, MOST of all, I’m soooo happy that this round looks like it might be over and you won!!!
(No chicken counting… 🙂 )
*hands Rage-M two new rolls of paper towels*
(The expensive, soft ones)
Hahah..and no snot. Snot free paper towels. That’s what I need. I’m not happy you are suffering, but it is comforting to know I’m not the only one who does this shit. XOXO
Until I met you on Twitter, I thought I was gonna die of Terminal Uniqueness.
As much as I HATE that anyone knows how I feel, if we gotta do this shit, I’m glad I get to do it with you and Terri Lee and everyone else I’ve grown to know and love through your Therapizing Blog Sessions.
(Then I trot over to halfa1000miles to see who she’s terrorizing… thanks for introducing us… 😉 depression and anxiety got nuthin’ on her and I get a kick out of trying to figure out where she gets her ‘oomph.’ Doesn’t mean I can do it, but I love watching and feeling her power!)
NEVER question the validity and worth of your Blog and writings.
That’s the biggest crock of bullshit your head ever tries to tell you.
Promise?
(Wish I could do more about the, “I’m hot” part, but… ya know 🙂 )
No worries there. I have my moments, but I can’t imagine how bad the depression would get if I didn’t write this shit down.
The lies are really loud lately. Indiana is stinking hot, and in the middle of it, I am having real hot flashes for the first time. I thought, “Oh, this is interesting. Hot flashes feel like dread.” Fun with feelings.
Just hang on. Hot flashes are fucking miserable. I’ve really been doing good with them lately..they still come, but not with the same frequency.
And yes, depression is very insistent and sounds so fucking honest. I’m doing much better now. I hope that you will be soon. XOXOXOX
Hi, I get not dread but total panic with some flashes. it will get better.
Fucking hot flash story: Saturday morning, getting ready to leave the mountain rent-a-cabin, it’s 55 and raining, I’m having a severe hot flash wrapped panic and fear, I’m on the porch, stripping to t-shirt and shorts.
and yeah, when kids don’t text back it sucks.
It sucks so bad. I hate being afraid all the time and the hot flashes…well, that certainly enhances the experience, doesn’t it?
I’m with ya, sister. My now nearly 20 yr old son has been away at college 2 yrs now but I’m still having daily visions of awful possibles lying in wait for him. I’ve got a hefty kick waiting for whoever is in charge of turning up the heat on my leaky kettle of a brain due to their inconsistency on the job. It’s obviously not me, I would put the fucker in the dishwasher a few times a year.
It just never ends, does it?
May I join in the circle, too? I have also done this many times throughout my life. I can’t even count the number of bawling, free-for-all cry sessions I’ve engaged in. It’s funny how our personal experiences give us the analogies we use to describe things. Instead of a tea kettle or pressure cooker, I’ve always used the analogy of a propane gas tank. (My dad worked for years in the propane business, bought his own company and I worked in the office.) Gas tanks have safety release valves so if a tank is overfilled and the gas expands in hot weather, it will “blow”, causing a loud “WHOOSH” and spewing gas into the air. It looks and sounds scary as hell, but it keeps the tank from exploding, which would be far worse. The fact that we feel so much better (and calmer) is evidence that we’re “overfilled” and need to blow it off. I believe that’s our body’s natural way of fighting back against Muffy Thundercunt and the evil specter of depression.
I was such a horribly immature bitch when I was a much younger woman. My mother was well known for her nasty, sarcastic comments and verbal abuse, so sometimes, if I had decided to go somewhere for a weekend and I knew she would not approve, I’d debate whether or not to call her and let her know where I was and that I was alright. Most times, I’d let her know, but one time, I decided against doing that because I figured it would spoil my weekend and I’d hear all her shit when I got home anyway. So I put off calling her for two and a half days, when I finally showed up back at home. She had called the police, who wouldn’t do anything because I was old enough to go off on my own and she watched the news for any stories about bodies being found. I would have had no problem calling if my mother had been someone I could actually talk to, but even that is no excuse for what I did and I truly regret it. I can’t begin to imagine how frightened and panicked she must have been. I did apologize to her when I was a bit older for everything I had ever put her through. I thought she might apologize to me, too, for all the verbal abuse she’d heaped on me throughout the years, but no. Everyone else was perfect. It was only ME that had the problem. Whatever. That’s okay. I apologized and owned up to my failings because I felt it was the right thing to do. I’ve made my peace with it. I realize now that I should have done the right thing and called and I seriously fucked up by not doing that. I only hope I made it up to her in later years by being a better daughter.
Joey was very sweet later on. He said he would make sure to leave his ringer on because he understands my anxiety.
*sweeps up more glitter*
*hands glitter back to Tinkerbell*
Here, now that you’re Tinkerbell, we gotta adjust your glitter valve. I LOVE following you around, but I’m not sure how to get ahold of the glitter fairy yet, and I don’t want you to run out!
You’re making everything too sparkly!!
(Now, why the fuck couldn’t our parents say that?)
I hate that we regret hurting family members and get no reciprocating respect…
*touches Terri Lee’s gossamer wing filaments*
Your wings are beautiful in this morning dewy light 🙂
God damn Google.
Exactly!!
Omg! I have totally done that snot thing. Yes, depression lies. And I love your idea of naming anxiety. Mine was running roughshod over my life recently but I am finding the mantra, Not my circus, Not my monkeys, helps.
I never trust google maps – more than once I have been in the middle of a busy intersection and it has announced – YOU HAVE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.
I think not!
Unless my destination was a four car pile-up.
I will name my Anxiety Fuckoffanddie.
PS: Glad he called and all is good. Kids! Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.
I really like naming my anxiety because then I have something concrete that I can fight back. It might not make sense, but I feel like once I give it a ridiculous name, then it ceases to have as much power over me. I’m not kicking it’s ass or anything, but I am making progress. I’ll take it.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a molehill. Seen quite a few gopher mounds, but I’m told they are not the same thing. Anxiety can just show up out of nowhere, and there’s not always that much I can do about it. We have large Chinese and Taiwanese communities here in the East Bay, and they seem to get the best (and most) illegal fireworks. That means that a few days before a firework kind of holiday, folks get impatient and start lighting a few off. BANG! BANGBANG! BANG! And all of the sudden I’m back in Dogtown wondering if it was anyone I know who just got shot… Wait just a fucking minute, I live in a nice neighborhood by the freeway in Richmond now, nobody is shooting anybody here. BANGITY BANG! WTF? Repeat.
Anyway, I’m glad you and Joey are both OK, and more certain than ever that I made the right call to not have children. I mean, I remember all that stuff I pulled on my parents, who were far more constitutionally suited to deal with those sorts of shenanigans than I ever was…
Yeah, last night it was bad here. It wasn’t just fire crackers, all night long we heard that deep, low whump sound, then huge explosions. I even knew the noise was coming and it would make me jump. Not for the same reason as you, for which I am grateful, but just because I’m jumpy as fuck.
I’m glad he was safe and sound.
My mother was always a bity like that, worrying about things that most of us would never even think of as a possibility. With her, I don’t know that it was anxiety so much as… creative pessimism.
IHaving seen it, I try to be conscious of it when I start doing it.
I TRY to not do it..I really do..but sometimes it totally gets away from me. Okay, often it gets away from me.
I’m so sorry you went through that – I can totally identify with you. I have found it the other way around for me – when depression sets in then anxiety is normally close behind – the anxiety attacks leave me lying on my bed or hiding under my doona – unless Al is there and can talk me through it.
Lots of hugs xox
Randy is nearly always good at talking me down. nearly. Hahha
If only you knew how much we truly are alike xoxoxo
I wouldn’t be surprised. xoxoxoxo
I supper on and off with depression. Seems like a lot of my husband’s side has problems with anxiety. It is definitely not a good combination, as much of a wonderfully good post as it resulted in here. I wish my depressive days could make me laugh. Wait, yes, sometimes they do.
I laugh when I’m depressed. Maybe not as often or sincerely, but I still do. Sometimes.
Depression, anxiety, I hate them. When they set in we might as well be children again because we can’t tame them like we’re an adult. Being so-called mature goes out the window! We’ve all be there where you were, and the crying, bantering, worrying, feeling over the edge? Yup. Been there, done that. Not that hearing that helps! Ugh. I hate depression and anxiety. Just glad all is now fine, Carla.
It actually does help, it really does. Not feeling alone is quite a weapon against anxiety and depression.
This is something I’m working really hard on – I’m not as far down Anxiety Lane as you are, but I do let my mind turn miniscule events into major ones – especially in the days of teenagers/20 somethings and unanswered texts. And heaven help me when I’d hear a police siren at night and our son wasn’t home! Things improved when they moved far, far away – but I still ove-dramatize at times and I hate that! Hope your happy vibes return soon – along with some zen x
Sirens ALWAYS get me. Always.
At the end I laughed. Well, not quite the end, but when you smeared snot on your face I laughed. It was a nice break in the tension because even though I was pretty sure this was going to have a happy ending I still didn’t like where the story was going.
And when depression tells you writing is folly depression lies. Depression always lies but that’s the biggest lie of all. And so is “I’m a cow.” For one thing cows are scary.
“I’ve ruined everything” is another enormous lie.
You can go to the brink and then you can step back and wipe snot on your face and that’s fucking funny.
And I know you’re in a terrible place right now but when you get back your new nickname will be “Snot Face”.
Thank you, the writing thing shook me up a little. But I got over it. I always do. And it’s funny, because I call Priscilla, Queen of the cubicle “snotface” (from Drop Dead Fred). haha.
I am intimately familiar with both anxiety and depression, and they come from out of nowhere for no reason. I have been where you are more than a few times. I hope you have considered medication – it saved my life.
I have xanax for anxiety. I had a horrible experience with antidepressants and I am very wary of taking them again. I manage. Mostly, I am fine. Except for when I’m not.
That reminds me, haven’t had a good ugly cry for a while now.
Hugs and so glad you’re in a better space
Sometimes, those cries are necessary. And thank you. 🙂
Keep making Sylvia and Muffy your BITCHES, Michelle. You do it every time you write about them and their nasty cousins.
Lots of tears in this world. Fortunately, there are just as many shoulders. Nice soft cushiony ones with big arms to wrap you up in when life is looking particularly frightening.
Hearts out to you, darling woman. I think it’s time for a dance party.
When ISN’T it time for a dance party?? That sounds AWESOME!
I am so sorry you had to go through all of that first of all, I understand your thought process all to well. Muffy Thundercunt sounds like a real ass hole!
I will say it again..it’s good to have a tribe. XOXOXOXO
This post was harrowing to read, I felt I was there with you, thank you so much for your honesty. Which is worse, the anxiety or the depression? Both are constantly hovering menacingly in the wings of my life.
If someone is late: they are most likely dead in my head. Not actually running late, or caught in traffic, or stopped for a coffee somewhere. Dead. I can so relate to your experience.
Of course, I blame the anxiety and depression on my Grade A Narcissistic ‘family’ of origin for their gifts of treating me as their pariah for decades!!! But it doesn’t actually help in the moment of blind panic or self- loathing.
Humour, however, definitely always helps, always. So thank you for the laughs once again….
I am so sorry that you relate and I am also so grateful that you relate. (I still can’t get my head around that…I feel guilty for being happy that I’m not alone).
I hate being afraid all the time that someone is dead and I just don’t know about it. I hate it. It’s not rational, but I have never been able to stop.
Yes, I know exactly where you are coming from. I can’t stop it either. And yes, how awful someone else feels this wretched anxiety storm in such a similar way, and yet- well- thank goodness too. Hey, at least we give a bleep tho about others. Imagine only giving a toot about ourselves? That would make us….. one of THEM. ie a You- Know- What (narc). Actually, I feel better about it already!!!!!! 🙂
You know what? You feeling better put a big grin on my face which makes me feel better. 🙂
Michelle,
I hate giving advice. (Actually, I really love it 🙂 But here’s the deal, benzodiazepines, like xanax, can cause anxiety and worse. I know, I had that worst experience. And benzos are downers, meaning they can cause depression. You get the picture… Here’s the advice part: find a good psychopharmacologist, they do exist. Always appreciate your writing.
Anita xx
Well..shit. I mean, xanax definitely takes the edge off of anxiety, but I know there are adverse effects. I stopped taking ambien because I was afraid I was getting benzo’d out between the xanax and ambien. The plus side is, I don’t take the xanax often, only when I know I’m reaching the point of tears.
I have this theory that all the stuff that my head makes up can never come true. Like that time my ex monster in law called and said dammit into my voicemail and I thought, this is it, she’s calling because they’ve committed my ex and I have to come pick up the kids. And then my head said well great. Now you’ve had the thought. It’s NEVER going to happen now. (Oh…my ex will be committed, it’s only a matter of time…just my ex MIL won’t call to tell me…which, now as I’m thinking on it, is worse because…)
Damn. Sorry I was trying to help.
Sugar pop, you always help. You just do. 🙂
I do this all the time – except I have no idea who my son’s friends are, so I wouldn’t know how to even try to reach them (and the little sxxx won’t give me any information because he’s an “adult” and doesn’t need me “in his business.” He’ll WISH I was in his business when he’s in someone’s trunk on the way to being tortured and murdered – but he thinks I overreact).
My sons think I overreact too!! They’re just all nuts. DON’T THEY KNOW WE CARE? And are perhaps a little crazy?
You are one of the most sincere and talented writers I have ever seen!!
So amazing to hear how the brilliant mind can totally turn on itself!!
It has been one long journey of 55 years…till finally fully acknowledging that I am NOT IN CONTROL..never have been..never will be…even when all is fine and dandy…I AM NOT IN CONTROL…and somewhere..somehow in that surrender I have found my release valve….I gave myself a nivkname..yes, at 55 I gave myself a nickname…SurrenderElla.
It does help to have journeyed 55 years and look back and see living proof that through all the ups and downs I AM STILL STANDING………….and laughing at your amazing way with words..feels like you are sitting right next to me girlfriend to girlfriend…so keep it up buttercup!! It is worth it all!!
Okay, this comment makes my goddamn night. I made Randy pause his movie (Blade) so I could read it to him. 🙂 Thank you so much. And thank you for sharing! I love SurrenderElla!
I’m glad I’m not the only one who gets these “what’s it all about” moments. We all do. I’m sorry for your worry over your boy. Anyone would’ve reacted the same way. As for the writing jitters…we all get them. Its part of the ticket to the carnival. Keep going. You’re good.
Thank you so much and I’m glad that I’m not the only one who would react that way, even though Randy says I’m nuts.