#aglimpseofme

This is me all the the live long days. Don't take it personally if I'm not talking. Sometimes, even my own voice annoys the fawk outta me. There are times where I crave total silence. #aglimpseofme #iamwhoiam😎 #iwontapologizeforbeingme https://www.instagram.com/p/BuR3AGFn_0s-OZjkKmGdGSBqLXKPocTtGp1RJ40/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1fpoxvkmbxolj

I hope to be an author someday, or a poet. But I am currently a bagger and a cart pusher. It's an okay job to have at 17, but it's scary having anxiety on the job. Mostly cart pushing is what really triggers it while working. I'll give you an example. The store's parking lot is on a hill and so there a lot of slants and it is easy to go down a hill fast and lose control. But that isn't a problem. It becomes a problem when cars are in a hurry and driven by distracted people. One day I was pushing a full load of carts and there was this white little car that had just pulled in. They had their left blinker on so I assumed they they were going left and not straight to the doors. I assumed wrong. They didn't see me until I had halted to a stop and grabbed the front carts, in efforts to keep them all together on the hill going downwards. In that moment, I nearly cried and swore while praying and thanking The Lord that I was okay. After that, I had to stay away from that certain end of the parking lot until my chest stopped hurting. I love job. Well I hate my actual job. But I don't mind being there and the people make it worth my while. So please do not think this is about my job. This is about my anxiety. I was diagnosed with anxiety and I have panic attacks more than normal. It's a rush. A bad one. I remember it drove me mad once. It drove me to stripping bare naked and rolling in the snow. My nails become serious weapons of self destruction. My whole body becomes sticky and wet. It always starts with my eyes though. They probably shouldn't get so big. But they do. My brain already goes 100 miles an hour but it picks up fast when it hits me. Have you ever been hit with a baseball bat in the stomach? Well that's what it feels like. It happens so fast, you can't think. I can't eat much because my stomach always feels like it's been hit. I wanna hold it and fall to the ground in tears. Typically I do. When it gets really bad. After a while I learn the severities and levels of them all. I can spot which ones are happening after the effect. There are freak outs and panics. That's what I call them. Freak outs aren't as bad. Panics are when I go crazy. My brain moves too fast that I don't function properly. It's hard to explain at this moment but anything can happen. But something new is happening. I believe it could be a new level. I'm not sure. But sometimes when I'm trying hard to do something, I just cry. There's not even noise. Just tears rolling down my face dropping down onto my bed. Just simple tasks that I try to get up for, I cry. Not sure what to call that level yet.