I’m on meds for anxiety and it’s not as bad as it used to be, but the weight of the shit I worry about catches up to me every Wednesday. Sometimes it’s caught up to me before Monday and the whole week is just terrible. I’ll be feeling fine, not great but not horrible, and then that old familiar pit sets into my stomach and the dreaded strangling tightness in my chest chokes me. When I’m doing my worrying, stuff just feels distant but also not. I guess it’s more a feeling that nothing really matters and everything I worry about will come true and there’s nothing I can do. And just like that, all my mental energy for the week is gone. Scratch that, all my physical and mental energy is gone for the week. Then living feels like too much effort. 

Now, I’m not totally blameless in all this. All day, every day, I ruminate, brood, and mull over past events, current events, and possible future events. While one part of my brain is living in the moment, another part is in the past or desperately trying to figure out the future. 

My next appointment with my psychiatrist is a few months off and I’m gonna try and bring all this stuff up that I’ve kept to myself for a few years now, but I don’t know if I’ll have the guts.