Tired.

Sometimes things get so bad that you can't ignore the fact that you need help. Sometimes things get so bad that you have to step back and just...look at the situation. Take it in. See the insanity of it all. Sometimes "bucking up" is no longer a valid response.

I have always been an anxious person. I have always accepted it as just one of those things. Some people are ugly, some people are stupid, some people have acne on their butts. I'm chronically anxious. But for the last 4 months my anxiety has risen to completely ridiculous levels. At the onset of this increase, I thought I was having a heart attack. I have had panic attacks before. I have had them since I was a kid. But recently...they actually matter. When I was a kid...I'd get that momentary insane period where my heart tried to escape, the world started to spin, and I felt my throat close. It was scary, but when it passed...well, it passed. It was over. I never gave another though to it.

Now, I have them and I can't shake it off. All I think about is how I feel when I get to that point. I worry about panic attacks so much that I give myself panic attack. During the panic attacks...I worry that I am dying. I worry that my siblings will burst into my room, as per usual, and find me dead on the floor. That they'll be messed up forever by the sight of my corpse in the middle of the room. I worry about the funeral costs. We don't have money. Logically, I know that I am not dying when this happens. I'm freaking out. And thinking "This is it! I'm gone. I'll never see my family again!!" fuels it. Makes it worse. I know these things logically...and I still can't make myself stop. I can't calm down. I am in a near constant state of panic. I don't get a break from it. No...that isn't true. I get a break when I manage to sleep. But sleep does not come all that easily anymore. Not that it ever did. But at this point burying myself under blankets and pillows and jackets isn't cutting it anymore.

I'm tired of being crazy. Everything seems pointless. I don't leave the house beyond school and work. I don't WANT to leave then. No...that isn't true. I want to. I just can't. I can't see the point because nothing makes me happy anymore. Almost nothing. Making my family happy makes me happy, so lately I try to just do whatever they want. Dress differently to please my mother and grandparents, play video games that I no longer care about to keep my siblings entertained. Etc. I don't really know where I am going with this post.