The anxiety has been looping up again and it scares me.
After months of being vomit-free, I threw up today.
There's rationality out there and I know what it is but I can't sync up my emotions with it. They're overbearing and push on the front of my brain and the suppression sinks into my stomach in hot waves until I'm walking around in a constant state of nausea.
I want to will myself to let go but it's all still there. I want to say it all has a reason, but I don't believe it does. Words seem cheap and my fleeting emotions are taking center stage. I want those with advice and antidotes to shut up and let me be. I don't want advice, I want solutions. I want them to throw themselves out on the limb instead of yelling from where it's safe.
Stories are easy to slant in any direction and right now I could scrawl out a list of woe-is-me's. I know the full stories and I know how to distort them and I can choose to present them in the most biased of ways.
Distort. Bias. Slant.
Here we go....
Met him three years ago. Traveled 200 miles to see him this weekend, as I promised I would, and then, he kissed me. I didn't want him to kiss me, in mind and logic and intentions, but the few-years-younger-me wanted it and couldn't find the words or reason to say, "No thanks, this isn't a good idea because you're my friend and I want you to stay my friend.". He kissed me and wanted more and I obliged. In the morning, he decided to change courses abruptly and pushed my presence away even though I still had 24 hours of the visit left. I spent the rest of my visit trying to avoid the human I had drive five hours to see and had been so eager to spend time with. I left that afternoon.
What about dollars? Dollars are a stress because dollars are food, house, and university education and tickets and gas money to see friends.
I had the a chance to go to the rain forest for two weeks, I could've visited old, dear friends I miss in Atlanta. I skipped all of that, though, to focus my energy on getting home for a job I had committed to in the States. The week's work would cover 2 months of rent and food, a huge relief and something I was dependent upon as I went to school. Getting home was a stressful disaster, but I did all I could, having the job awaiting me be what kept me moving. It wasn't until just the day before that I got the notice that I wasn't needed for that task. Two months rent -- poof. Tschao.
These are two knots I hold in my stomach.
Now I know there's more to both of the stories and if the main characters are read this, I hope they know that I see the other side, I see their side, and I see more than the above. To the first, there's more communication and in the final story, solid, valid reasons. Neither above story mention worth-mentioning factors. Neither of the logic and truth, though, seem to soothe the anxiety that's built itself up in me.
Today has been bliss, so why am I vomiting?
I feel safe and loved here so where did it come from?
When my anxiety comes, it sticks around. Relief is temporary as the ailments - sheer exhaustion and nausea - continue and I wonder what I did wrong and what I can do differently.
I don't know what to do. I just want to hide and sleep over and over - and I know this pattern. I've been here before - where the only desire is to sleep it off.
Little events become big, in this state. Little blows echo louder and have impacts that can last for days. It all builds up.
They say it's just me being bipolar. If so, my high just ended and I'm not ready for the lows to start.
(actually, they don't phrase it like that... "just you being bipolar" isn't a phrase I've heard)