Saturday, March 2, 2013

...apparently blogging is the cheapest form of therapy..., here it is...Saturday night.  I am all dressed up with someplace to go.

However, I am not there.

I am trapped.  Trapped by my own anxiety.  My own illness.

Yes, I said illness.

Big Daddy is working.  Little Man is at a sleepover.  I am *supposed* to be at a going-away party for a co-worker.

A co-worker who I love, a co-worker who I adore, a co-worker whom I will miss.  Greatly.

I am showered, dressed and have my make-up just right.

However, I am sitting on my couch.  Paralyzed.

I got the text asking if I was making it to dinner.   I said I wasn't feeling well {it isn't a lie...I'm not felling well.  I am making myself sick.} and would try to make it to bowling.

However, I am not going to make it to bowling.  My mind is all over the place.  Irrational fears.

Some of my anxiety is tied to my weight.  I am certain of this.

I used to go out and have fun all of the time.

That was over 100 pounds ago.

Now I am afraid to talk to people.  People that I see every day.  I do not understand this.  I am afraid that they think I am stupid.  I am afraid they think I don't know what I am talking about.  I am afraid that I won't have anything to say.  There I'll be, the fat girl in the corner...with her Diet Coke and chicken nachos.  Everyone will be watching the fat girl eat.  Thinking how dare she go out with her friends.

This is not limited to my co-workers {whom I consider friends} but my dearest friends in the world.  Friends whom I have known for 25+ years.  Yes, we are spread out over the country...but my dearest friend lives a mere 20 minutes away...and I don't see her all that often.  That is wrong.  I even avoid my extended family.  I don't understand.  I can stand in a room full of twenty women and chat up jewelry.  I can talk to the person in line at the supermarket about how to plan the best Disney vacation ever.  People I see everyday.  They judge me.

I am embarrassed and ashamed.

I can take my meds.  I have been taking my meds.  They make me loud.  Loud and chatty.  That might help me in my current social anxiety situation.

However, I don't think it will.

When I take my pills, I start talking to the girl at the Costco photo center about my love of WWE's Edge.


One extreme to the other.

So here I sit.  On the couch.  In hiding.  

Avoiding life.

Something has to change.

{Love to All}

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