I think I am on the verge of a major anxiety attack.
I was extremely early to work, (which is quite the opposite for me) because I could barely go thru the simplest of motions of getting ready for work, until finally I just sort of walked out the door on auto-pilot. This was after I found myself mindlessly washing my hands for the third time this morning. Just mindless movement. I’d think of something and then next thing I knew I was washing my hands, like my mind was screaming “Dirty Pillows!!” at me, and I was attempting to cleanse myself of the angst.
I hate this feeling. I am literally incapable of getting comfortable. I find myself shifting all over the place, as if I burrow my ass into a chair a little harder and a little further I might actually find that sweet comfortable spot. Everything that touches my skin makes me want to cringe. Last night it was the sheets. I lived out the Princess and the Pea with a thread count of what felt to be 35. Every single thread of the sheets felt like hot sandpaper against my skin. Today it’s clothing. Or my hair. Every fiber of me is on hyper sensitive mode. While manually un-prying my jaw from its clenched mode, I have to remind myself to breathe. Not the short shallow breaths that I realize I am taking. True deep breathing.
It’s not hard to figure out why this is upon me. It’s a game of Jenga, and sometimes it’s just the wrong block moved that brings everything to a near topple. The new job while exciting and refreshing, is also terrifying. The knowledge that down the pipe the expectations for me will be much higher, loom like a dark shadow that can’t wait to swallow me whole. I’m going to miss my big fish/small bowl status.
I perhaps stupidly started some very small home projects with a contractor I am not certain about. I woke up this morning with a small amount of water on the bathroom floor, and a portion of wetness, under the sink. This is the area he worked on yesterday. He was surveying what would need to be done with changing out some plumbing fixtures, and SPLASH water came gushing down at him from under the sink. He cleaned it up, but is this the remnants from that, or did he cause a bigger deeper problem? I feel around and find too much dry to be alarmed and too much wet to be okay. I won’t really know until tonite when I get home from work, so the issue with the condition of my house until then, has me on considerable edge. I keep picturing myself on People’s Court with Judge What’s-her-face asking me the simplest questions, while I realize I am one of those people I see so often that didn’t have the wherewithal to do this, or do that when hiring a professional.
I also needed to get a small authors bio written – it was actually due last night, but with a handful of other things that cropped up, I didn’t get to it. I realized it of course about 30 minutes before bedtime, so it weighed heavily on me, because a). I hadn’t a flipping clue on what to write and b). I am hard on myself when I have a looming writing date. I came into work this morning and kicked out something extremely flippant, that I am afraid won’t be well received, but I feel like a stubborn child who has just said, “I don’t understand what I am supposed to do!”.
The cherry on top is that my Service Engine Soon light went on when I was heading home yesterday. I love my little Pony, and had told myself I’d wait at least another year before considering a new car, but all car repairs make me sick. Like literally. I think it roots back to those days of even the most minor car problem was a major financial set-back, so the same feeling comes into play. I want all of my financial ducks in a row before I take on a new payment. But it’s small things like this that make me wonder if I am handling things correctly.
I am a creature of habit and while I love spontaneity and all, too much too soon causes many rumbles in my little habitat.I need to wear a sign around my neck that states, “Please do not feed the fears. Unless you’re feeding it bacon.”
I think I’m just going to take a half a Xanax. Anxiety-1 / Gina-0.