Brittle
Long time internet, how have you been? Good? Cool, me too, for the most part. Busy, but good. I’ve been working hard and hardly working, in even doses. I’ve got a lot of school work and a lot of gaming going on, so that’s a nice balance I suppose.
What I want to talk about today is something fun in my life. Anxiety. Lately, more and more, I’ve been experiencing a phenomenon that is asymptotally approaching actual panic attacks. I’m not there, I can function. I can back away and do something else. But I still find myself in class shaking, looking around, and just shy of breaking down. I feel like I’m vibrating inside, shivering so fast that I’ll shatter. Sure, I look fine. I can hold myself together. But I don’t know if or when I’m just gonna blow into pieces during one of these. Shit sucks.
So, I could go to therapy. Oh wait, I did that. Apparently I don’t have problems. I could get medication, but that’s just more paperwork and stress. Besides, they’ll want me to go to therapy for it just to see that I’m not faking to sell some pills. So, what have I done? Drank. All last semester, I was exceptionally productive. Efficient. A star student, by all accounts. I was lazy, but who isn’t? My secret was a shot before every paper, every assignment. A drop of liquor for every painstaking word that never would have gotten written sober. Now, I’m trying to get help. We’ll see how that goes. My adviser says that she’ll have a nice long talk with me tomorrow about this little problem. I wonder if she knows a magic trick. Doubt it.
So, I have edits to do on my thesis. Edits on something I managed to write only 45 minutes before my last meeting, because the shakes would come whenever I tried to get too close to a word processor. Tonight? Rum and coke. Productivity via alchemical concoction. I guess I’m getting practical. So strange.