I have anxiety, but I don’t know where to put it. So it just sits there. Festering and growing.
My body feels restless, my heart is about to pound out of my chest, and my mind is going a thousand miles a minute.
I know what the problem is. Or, rather, problems. There’s no shortage of stressors here.
But all of my problems have no solutions. At least, no good ones. Maybe at best just a…least bad one.
I have to make a seemingly impossible decision by Monday. I have myself a deadline, and Monday was it. I’d hoped things would’ve changed…but they did not. And I am still in the same predicament.
Anxiety.
Fear, worry, panic….I don’t know where to put it.
I feel like I shouldn’t talk about things. Like I shouldn’t burden you with my problems.
Except for the fact that I so very desperately need to talk this out with someone.
Nobody has the answers, of course they don’t. I’m not expecting them to. But talking it out would help. At the very least, it would make me feel less alone. Or like…if things don’t go well…I’ll at least have someone to turn to. To…ugh.
If things don’t go well, and I’m dealing with it alone, it’ll end tragically. A lot (more) drinking. Maybe a lot of pills. Self harm. All the bullshit I’ve tried so hard to get myself away from.
Right now, it’s just anxiety. And fear. Insecurities running rampant in my mind.
Thoughts that I’m not got enough. That I’ve never been good enough.
All of this anxiety, and nowhere to put it.
Maybe I’m just not drinking fast enough.