12 October 2012
Deep inside, I know that it never really goes away. But since its been so long, actual months, I somehow came up with the ridiculous notion that I was ….cured? I’ve been sleeping mostly on schedule, trying to eat daily and at set times, organizing my work so I don’t get too overwhelmed, and I’ve even got my softest teddies on hand just in case. I felt pretty good. I felt stable and okay, and not once in the past 4-5 months have I had a dizzying headache or numbness or tingling of any kind. I did sob on the night my laptop died a horrific milky death, but it wasn’t the same as a panic attack. It was a wholesome sob fest. I did hyperventilate when I found Mia’s pictures last month, but I wasn’t dizzy or tingling, just whirlingly depressed. And though that may not be a word, it seems to fit that situation perfectly. It was whirls, like when you’re mixing a thick brownie mix. Some shots of sky and thin-air places, but it was more like a slow whirling pendulum than a zipping rollercoaster. It was crying that needed to be done and pushed out.
NOW THIS, HOWEVER. My madre. We all know her by now, you know, the one that really just doesn’t seem to like me and my existence in her castle/prison island. The other day when I got home from volunteering, my little brother called me a rather rude word and she didn’t bat an eyelash. I didn’t really care but I shot back with a random remark because I am competitive by nature, and this set her off. She was shrieking and berating me, but again, I did not really care. I had 3 tests and 2 assignments due the next day and I was tired from working House already. I smiled and said okay at the end of her spiel, and went on to my room to slave away at my homework. I thought that was it, since Izak and I didn’t really do much. He just called me a jackass, and I called him a bitch; I don’t usually use such profane language, but remember I was tired, and either way I would have called him an idiot another time and we’d still consider it banter. Izak and I did and do not care. Something must have been bothering madre, because she followed me around the house and periodically would come find me expressly for the purpose of berating me. I didn’t pay much attention, mumbling the random okay to make her think I was listening. Life went on.
TODAY. PERHAPS 2-3 DAYS AFTER THE FACT. She saunters into the living room with a smug look, trailing my dad who had just asked me to come to the living room. The two little bros sitting on the couch, ready for their punishment or whatever. She presents her story. I had screamed several profane words at Izak, her, and Derek in front of all the neighbors and their mothers and absolutely could not be calmed by my madre’s sweet harmonious words of tranquility. I shall admit it, I was laughing by then and she looked mad. My dad tried to make a lesson out of it, but I cut him off and reminded him I was the girl who wouldn’t dare make her own order at McDonalds, so how was I to raise my voice in public. Not only that, but I was also the one who most actively tried to get everyone at home to stop using profanities. He acknowledged my point. My madre started screaming again saying that I hated my little brothers and I was always targeting them and calling them horrible things and saying they were disgusting creatures that should go die. None of which is true, except for the disgusting creatures part. Because that is true. And they know it. In fact, they both see it as a term of endearment. I do not hate my little brothers, I simply severely dislike them most of the time. I do not call them horrible things because that is a waste of breath and life; I know this because I read the Phantom Tollbooth and Milo has taught me several life lessons about the importance of words and time and numbers and such. And I think we allllll know I would never tell anyone to die. it is not funny or cool or even an option to tell anyone to die. Its the worst thing you could tell anyone. So at this point, my stomach hurts. Its that black pit of fury and frustrations, and I feel it broiling in my head and belly. My eyes start leaking and after I tell my dad that he has no idea what really happened and that he can’t trust everything he hears from madre (as he should have learned by now), I begin to wheeze. I couldn’t breath, and I made noises I never made before. I ended up curled over an armchair, with my sister holding my back, and my head hanging over the edge underneath the side table and arms of the chair. It probably lasted about 15 minutes, which is a long while. I know I heard my madre start off on her “Oh she’s such a dramatic little actress” spiel and my dad telling her to grow up and act like she was my mother. When I was done, it was my sister and I and my dad left in the living room. My sister was crying, which shocked me a bit. I didn’t feel sad or afraid, I was furious. My dad gave a halfhearted speech about how I needed to sort this anxiety thing out because if I can’t handle a “simple conversation”, how could I ever hope to handle life? I stubbornly said it was because my stomach hurts and he conceded because he didn’t want me to go panic again. Then he gave me this laptop. Its cute and nice and has ridiculously amazing speakers and visual quality. The only problems with it are that it was expensive, the wifi usb keeps falling out, it will take forever to transfer all of my old files, and its not my old laptop. I do have my loyalties. I miss my sleek black hp. This one is still an hp, but its a cheery white and purple butterfly thing that I’d imagine fashion bloggers tapping away at rather than myself. It will suffice, but I think I’ll clean off my old laptop and store it away for a while to see if it would still work later on. If not, I might sell it to my sister. I don’t really want to let it go. Right now, all the keys are sticking, and I’m pretty sure theres milky residue hiding under the dvd compartment. I have some intense cleaning to do, but it shall be done. Other than that, today felt pretty successful considering all the tests. I’m just a bit down since I know my anxiety is back and I’m currently going throug the after effects of having a panic attack; slight perpetual trembling, dizzy headache, raw eyes and cheeks, cold dry nose, and exhaustion. I don’t see myself waking up before 3 pm tomorrow.