My husband is the most annoying person on the face of this earth. It doesn't matter what kind of day I am having or what I am trying to do. It is never important enough for him to give me space or time unless of course I am cleaning the bathroom. Then he refrains from driving me up a wall. I want to take my fist and try putting it through his face. Lucky for him I haven't been that crazy since last April. But I wonder if he understands the kind of restraint it takes not to go ape shit on his ass. He just interrupted me and I tried to explain to him that I don't interrupt him at work, so he shouldn't interrupt the time I take to ease the crazy. I have to continually remind him I get paid to be crazy, or he gets paid because I am crazy. I have a right to five hours and forty-five minutes a day, seven days a week to devote to my mental instability. That's 180 hours of Alice time a month. Whatever I want to do: sleep, sit in a dark closet with the door closed, read a book, go to my happy place (book-a-million), scream at the top of my lungs, chat on the computer with people that deal with the same mental agony I experience, cry, eat ice cream, drowned in irrational sorrow or write whatever comes to the front of my mind. The government has given me carte blanche. They sympathized with my plight and determined that my "disability" got in the way from me being able to pursue a normal life filled with work and fulfilling activities that result in money. Why does my disability get in the way? I get "overstimulated" very easily. Panic, pain or thoughts start flooding my head.. I cant process the surroundings. The anxiety is overwhelming. I start to feel the acid in my stomach bubble and churn, my vision blurs, I get dizzy. I get nauseous. I cant think. Everything seems to be closing in on me. Sometimes leaving the house seems impossible. I cant handle the focus that it takes to drive the car, or I am paranoid that people with think that I am not fit to be in public. They think there is something wrong with me. They are whispering to each other about me. I tell myself that it doesn't make sense. I try to stop paying attention to I am overwhelmingly tired for no apparent reasons. Every sound is like taking a cheese grater and rubbing it up and down my spine. I close my eyes and hold my ears.
I'm panicked, nothing is wrong and yet I feel like impending doom is imminent.. My chest is tight and heavy. I'm telling myself breathe deep and stop thinking. Focus on what is going on right at this moment. I think to myself, "Is there any reason for me to be upset?" Craig has to mow the lawn later. That means I have to be alone with the children. The beds have to be made. Are the sheets out of the dryer? Did I even put them in the dryer? Oh no, at some point I have to come out and spend sometime with my husband and the boys. I'm overwhelmed, and yet out of all of these reasons there isn't anything that is bad or will hurt me. I hate feeling like this. I hate my life. No I don't hate my life. I have a great life. Its wonderful. I have time to be by myself. I don't work. I have money. I have everything I need. Again these thoughts are flowing to fast. Stop thinking about it. I am laying down and closing my eyes trying to stop the anxiety from taking over. I don't have an anxiety med.. that's my own damn fault, but it still makes it harder to control my anxiety. Eventually I will fall asleep.
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