Sneak

My boss told me that she was proud to have such a lovely girl on her team today. I felt appreciative but completely unable to take the compliment on board. It made me feel really sneaky, like I'd somehow tricked her into thinking I am a nice person, and then a bit nervous that I was going to get found out as the terrible person that I see myself as. I felt on edge for the rest of the day after that, at one point I even acted slightly stand-offish later on in an attempt to show her how much of a shit I can actually be. It's like I felt the need to give her a taster so it isn't so much of a surprise when I carry out the mystery, yet horrendous, future act I have taken it upon myself to predict. This seems to be a long-running theme of mine - seeking, but not needing as such, reassurance and then rejecting it upon receipt. Mostly I embrace my cynical and sarcastic nature, but then I always associate it with being difficult to get on with, being misunderstood and even disliked. So, when I'm complimented in any way I feel the need to face it with disbelief, perhaps I've just grown accustomed to the feeling of being the outsider looking in?

Pretentious Irritants

Today has been thoroughly productive, even with it having been a day off work for me! I ran this morning - I feel as though I am getting less and less time to exercise, but it is usually number one in calming my anxiety. Maybe it's the fresh air and Vitamin E. Maybe I don't suffer from anxiety and depression at all and I just have S(easonal).A(affective).D(isorder). Should I buy a UV lamp, and a log, and sit under it in my lounge like a lizard?
I stuck a few parcel tags around town highlighting the issue of anxiety and telling people not to feel alone. I hope so much that people read them and it comforts at least one person - I have directed them to my blog so perhaps in a perfect world, in a different universe someone will post with some feedback.
I met a friend today for a couple of drinks to celebrate him getting a new job. I had to kill some time before he met me so I thought I'd see how the other half lived, and be a coffee shop dickhead. Well. I was even unprepared for this particular place, although before I went in there were two people on MacBooks in the window, as it was a whole new level of dickheadedness. I ordered a cappuccino and was presented a piece of driftwood with three cups sitting on it: one a glass of water, one the requested cappuccino and other containing a mystery liquid (which I came to the conclusion was another shot of coffee?) I sat to watch the trendies in their own environment - a girl got creative on her MacBook, a couple read the Telegraph on his and hers iPads, a boy arrived wearing an ironically cool knitted jumper and moustache curled at the sides with wax. I felt sick. I joined in by whipping out my 'Panic Book' (my anxiety diary) and writing my inner-most thoughts, I only wished I had brought my iPad as well because I was sure my measly pen and paper were raising suspicion, or maybe that was the disgusted look on my face? It's people like this that are almost a sure bet to bring in a good old-fashioned panic attack - 'I don't fit in, I'm too judgmental and cynical'... Though maybe I'd prefer to see myself as an anxious mess than feel like this bunch of one-dimensional, transparent bores and myself are 'like-minded'.

The Cat

My housemate has a Cat. Sometimes, when it's been let outside, it sits on the other side of the window for hours staring at you to be let back in. It made me laugh the other day because it literally did this for about 3 hours. I thought to myself how funny it was that it never got bored, or went away to do something else to fill the time before trying again later. This is because it is a Cat and has no sense of time of self, of anything really. It doesn't get bored or think about why it's doing something, it just unquestioningly does. I worry that a lot of people also do this, live their lives without wanting more, and just doing for the sake of doing or 'getting by' in a way they've been told to. I never want to be a Cat staring blankly through the window.

My obsession with ideals and over-tuned awareness of mortality

(I currently work in a dispensary in a medical practice)

Today I was at work. When giving out prescriptions I was checking patients' ages on the slips. It generally alarmed me when they were over the age of around 75, I couldn't understand how they were walking, talking, running errands and living life normally instead of what I imagine my lifestyle choice to be at that age: Running around in circles, with my hands on my head, letting out one long constant scream in terror... Are they not scared that every night they go to sleep they might not wake up again?
I've decided that I either have something missing or have something extra, something too much in me. It's either that I am dead inside and lack the capability to socially integrate effectively or I have an extra awareness/cynicism about me that other people don't seem to have. I tend to over-assess and be too thoughtful on things that other people don't SEEM to even notice at all. Generally it feels as though, on the whole, many people seem to take life as it comes and simply don't contemplate their own mortality. I by no means see myself as a 'deep thinker', but I seem to have the amazing gift of being able to over-complicate everything and I think by that nature it makes me difficult to get along with. I have my ideals and I'm often unwilling to compromise, this is because I'm so scared of time ticking past that I want everything and everyone to be a dreamy perfection and when it's not I just avoid it. I constantly scrutinise myself to these same standards and as they are impossible to live up to it leaves me feeling pretty low. As a result of the unforgiving standards I imagine I must miss out on friendships, experiences and probably have a few more arguments than I should do. But then again now, even after having written all of that, I still wouldn't want to be the person who knows everyone but only mediocrely gets along with them. I want people around me that epitomise everything I love and hate. Basically, I still want perfection.

My first entry

All of my writings are copied from my 'Panic Book' which I write in whenever I experience anxiety or depression, in the hope that writing about it will make myself calmer and that I will begin to see patterns in what causes this problem for me...

Last night I got into bed and immediately didn't feel tired anymore. My mind started racing with negativity and I felt low and lonely. I thought I was completely alone, unloved and lacking in the warmth and compassion that 'normal' people seem to have. I tried breathing steadily and pressing the thoughts down, but my heart had already started racing so much I could hear it beating in my ears. It ended with a brief cry forcing itself out of me - tears just seemed to pour out without me feeling particularly upset - and then making myself stop before my eyes became puffy.
Today I have MS. I am convinced of it. My fingers and hands have been experiencing tingling and numbness for a while, so today when my lips felt numb I decided that I definitely have MS. I spent around 45 minutes Googling the symptoms and being two people - one that laughed at myself as I did it, because it's always the worst-case-scenario diagnosis of 'cancer' or 'impending  death', and one who had already prepared to receive the diagnosis and had begun to feel the terrified feelings of having been given it.
I heard on the news this morning  that 150 families blocked the wishes of their deceased relatives to be an organ donor last year. I rang mum to clarify my wishes to be one and it comforted me. I think I've come to the conclusion that I want as little of me going into the ground as possible. I don't want to be on my own down there, I'd prefer to stay around the living so I'll look up donating myself to medical research.

The decision to do a blog

I have been suffering from anxiety, with bouts of depression, on and off for around three years now. Only from my fairly recent ability to be able to fully admit it and to be able to discuss my exact thoughts and feelings without feeling as embarrassed and ashamed, have I realised quite how commonly the phenomenon is amongst others too. Though I do think that people being ashamed of themselves and of 'not being able to cope' is still too common: I'm hoping that by writing completely honestly about my thoughts and feelings brought about by my anxiety and depression people can be comforted that they are not alone, be more likely to talk about their own experiences and that perhaps the shameful aspect of feeling this way can be diminished, even a tiny bit, for those who might read this blog. That's what I'm hoping for anyway, because I do believe I feel better after I can discuss my thoughts and rationalise them.