In which there was a sensation and I freaked the fuck out: another boring-ass post about my anxiety disorder, because I bring the content!
Woke up weirdly early, like 7:30 or so, and though I did try, I couldn’t get back to sleep. Eventually got really hungry, as one does if she’s awake long enough, so got up and had a cup of coffee, and made some hash browns, facon, and a poached egg.
After eating I went outside and dug up a bit of the turf where the tomatoes will go, then came in and swept the kitchen and living room, and hand-scrubbed the kitchen floor. Go, me!
Sat down on my ass in front of the computer, found a show to watch on Acorn (‘Delicious,’ with Dawn French, which is much darker than I’d expected because I guess I’d assumed it was a comedy). Scrolled Twitter and Facebook like an asshole, as if it were some sort of reward for doing a couple of chores rather than an absolute and utter waste of time. Realized it’d been hours since I’d eaten already and that I was hungry again, damn it. Was going to eat leftover rice and chickpea curry, but they’d gone off, so I threw some veggie tots in the oven. Mixed up a little bit of fry sauce while they baked.
Brought my treat to my desk, pushed play on the vid, and began to eat, cross-legged in my office chair, chin a couple of inches above the surface of the desk.
Sudden, weird fluttering in my chest, like a bird trapped. No pain or discomfort, lasted maybe three seconds, but scared the shit out of me. During, I stuck my index on my pulse but by the time I’d found it the flutter was over and my heartbeat seemed, well, fine, if a little fast. Realized I was slouched forward and so I sat up straight, adrenaline just coursing through me because holy fuck did my heart just fuck up?!?!… and burped.
Sat here freaking the fuck out for a moment, as you do when you have a panic disorder, then started googling shit like ‘esophageal flutter.’ Burped again. Immediately realized that searching symptoms would just end in shit about heart defects and cause a full-fledged panic attack, so I closed the tab, breathed deep, and pulled my plate to me.
Finished eating my tiny plate of tots, had a couple more burps, and… well, haven’t died.
My shoulders are so tight they’re up by my ears now, and I have the nervous energy and delusion that I’m dizzy and bouncy leg of a fairly acute anxiety attack, so I’ll need to get up and go do laundry or something, to keep myself moving until I forget I’m nervous.
Who am I kidding, I’ll probably just sit here and marinate in my own juices.
Ah, fuck the dread. Seriously. Although I guess I’d rather have the dread of modern living rather than, say, the plague, or the various other much more dangerous afflictions of the past. The dread fucking sucks, but at least it isn’t actually fatal.