31 May, 2010

Learning to deal with the fucking elephants.

You know, some days, I wake up, and everything is rosy and wonderful, and I feel productive and generally awesome, and other days, I can barely get out of bed, because the elephants have taken up residence on my chest. All the elephants really want is love and affection, and maybe breakfast, but they fail to realize that their comfortable nesting place is right on my chest, and for fuck's sake, I can't breathe with them there. Like, a lot. And every time I notice that the elephants are still there, it gets less and less easy to take a breath.

Anxiety is a pernicious brain-eating zombie. All you really want is for it to stop gnawing on your head for long enough to run, or maybe find something to hack their limbs off with, but they keep climbing back onto you and supping on your delicious brain-meats, leaving you weak and unable to function.

Days like today, when I realize all I still have to accomplish in life, how many sandwiches I have left to eat, and that I'm going to have to move from our glorious downtown apartment, out to the 'burbs, taking my slightly psychotic mother-in-law with us, and probably within the next couple of months, I just can't get out from under the elephants on my chest and away from the zombie. My breathing is too quick, I can't get enough air, and damn if I'm going to ruin what should be a perfectly serviceable day, by just taking the damn Ativan, and going for a long nap.

Oh yes, I see this day going far, in terms of getting anything done. I wouldn't even mind the zombie, if the elephants would just shift a little.

...who wants to hyperventilate with me?

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