#mental barf

i read posts about people being mentally disabled by their anxiety/depression and i fully agree with them. it IS a disability, but then i turn around and tell myself that i can’t possibly be disabled like them because everyone’s told me that i am perfectly okay and normal. but if i’m sobbing outside of my office building in the parking lot so absolutely terrified to go inside, that seems like a disability.

i am mentally disabled. i am. and i hate saying that. not because i’m ashamed, but because i feel like nobody is going to take me seriously or believe me. i have to write an email to my temp agency telling them i can only have certain jobs because when i become overwhelmed i have panic attacks and go into hiding. i haven’t gone to work for two days. two no-call-no-shows. because the thought of going back is so stress inducing that i start bawling and hyperventilating to the point that i dry heave.

i feel embarrassed when i admit that i have such bad anxiety because i’m afraid that folks will think i’m making it up, or being dramatic, or that i’m just ~overly sensitive~ or they’ll think that i’m just trying to take the easy route through life but good golly i assure you that crying so bad you can’t go into work and then wanting to stay in bed all day because you hate yourself so much for being a quitter is not the easy route.

when i say i hate myself, i  h a t e  myself. in my head i can hear everyone’s voices around me expressing how irresponsible and disappointing i am. my parents claim to understand how i feel but they just don’t seem to and it makes me feel very abandoned. they want me to take steps to become better, and i understand that, but they never assure me that everything is going to be okay and that they’re there to help. they just tell me i need to whip myself into shape and i’ll only get better if i try. i don’t want that. i want someone to just hug me for a day and say that they’re going to stick with me through this. because i need help.

i need help. i can’t take care of myself by myself. and that seems so shameful at first but that’s not any different than a person with a physical ailment needing help from their loved ones to take care of them either. it comes back to the mental disability. D I S A B I L I T Y. i am mentally disabled. i cry very much and panic very badly when things seem out of control to me, and even little things can cause that, and when i panic i get very frightened and want to hide and die. literally.

some folks need to be able to sit down during their shift because they have a hurt knee. i need to not answer phones and have people yell at me because i have a hurt soul. and i need to tell myself that that is okay.

there is nothing wrong with me telling my temp agency i have depression and anxiety that affects my work and i need a job that will not trigger it. they shouldn’t think any less of me. they shouldn’t think i’m being lazy. they shouldn’t think i’m being crazy. they should say okay let’s take these steps.

i should not feel ashamed for wanting a comfortable job. what a world we live in where it’s expressed that hating your job is the norm and you should just get over it. that lack of sleep and aching limbs are what are expected. that’s unacceptable. and it’s hard to train myself to not think that way since my parents are both red-blooded, hardworking, push-through-the-pain americans who do not know what the word “quit” really means.

my dad was a basketball coach for very much of his life and he kind of tried to instill SPORTS mentality into me. quit was a dirty word, no matter how upset things would ever make me. he’d tell me that i needed to do it anyway and i would feel so much better when i would conquer it, but i never did and it would make me feel worse in the long run that i probably let my dad down and felt so stressed doing it as well. i don’t tell my parents about my lows. about hiding from things and not calling to tell people what’s going on because i know that would fill them with so much like... well. disappointment. i really truly hate disappointing people.

and that disappointment swings back around to the whole “actually disappearing from work” thing. i told them that i was scared of these calls and they put me back on them anyway. and instead of just saying “no please really you don’t understand how upsetting this is to me” i just ran the fuck away. because i didn’t want to disappoint them by being difficult, or being a baby about it. i rather go away and not have them have to bother with my cry baby ass.

what i really would like to do is not even talk to my temp agency. i just want to go back to target where i know i’m comfortable, and work with my buddy on the food team and just stock barbecue sauce for the rest of my life. but amy says i should try and talk to my temp agency about perhaps finding me something that will be able to mesh well with my anxiety. and i trust her more than most people, even though i really trust no one 100% (that’s just how it is and how it will always be. i’ve never told someone everything about anything ever my whole entire life but i digress) i trust amy enough to be like, okay i will try and talk to the temp agency even though it’s TERRIFYING to me.