Oxazepam

The nervous poodle has been staying with me for the past few days. Him and his lanky legs walked into work 3 days ago, signed in, and walked right out again. It seems almost ridiculous to associate a word like nervous with anxiety disorders ,but just as I see the wolf like dog of depression, I see the nervous poodle, a particular poodle, when I am griped by an episode of generalised anxiety disorder. It also seems ridiculous to appear to be the most confident person in the room and a sufferer of anxiety disorders. In fact everything about anxiety is ridiculous as it completely defies logic and turns the smallest of things into the friggin Himalayas. It is hard to explain to people that sometimes I am unable to leave the house, as the door is too heavy to open to a world that is just far too big for me. I understand this confusion as much as I understand the idea that the world has not changed since I was last happily walking within it. But like I said before, you cannot apply logic to a disorder. I could try and explain by describing the panic response of fight or flight, but most people have experienced this emotion at least once in their lives as it is ingrained in our survival instinct. To people that have anxiety disorders, during an episode that feeling is there all the time. All of the time. Sometimes the dizziness makes you vomit, other times you swear your heart is exploding, but mostly you are griped by indecision, unable to move, to sleep, to stop thinking. It’s all so ridiculous, so humiliating, so humbling. It’s like being taken back to the start, like a helpless newborn unable to feed, and never really knowing why it happened, when it will stop and what will be left after it finally moves on. It is without a doubt the most terrifying experience but perhaps the worst part is that it breaks down who you are and leaves you feeling like you cannot trust yourself or ever be relied on. This is a very confronting thing to deal with as even in times of wellness it is always there gently reminding you that certain things are not for you as you never know when the poodle will return once more. You make life decisions, tiny and massive, based on this belief of unreliability. You understand that relationships, close friendships and children are out of the question. You understand that you can only ever take your career so far as when the balls in your court you will always eventually drop them. You save recreation leave for anxiety episodes not vacations as you know you can’t afford luxuries when you want to hide your mental illness. You become an expert liar, brilliant at excuses and impressive at playing normal but it always takes something from you, the facade takes parts of you every time you tell a lie to someone you care about, and every time you distance yourself from someone that could mean something to you. But the most ridiculous part of it all is that mask you have to wear is even heavier than that door that opens to the world that is just too big for you. Most people wish for big things, have big dreams, big ideas but all I ever wish for is to know what I am going to get when I wake in the morning. I wish I could rely on myself once more, I wish others could rely on me. I wish I could guarantee that I could be there, that I was going to turn up and be present. I wish I could make plans knowing that only the weather could change them. I wish I could demand respect in the workplace and really earn it. I wish I could no longer dread things that aren’t even there, to walk out the heavy door into the biggest of worlds and know that no matter what, I could handle whatever was thrown at me. But for now I just have to find a way off this floor, through these chest pains, away from this poodle so I can turn up and start pretending all over again before I lose everything because having something that isn’t really mine is better than having nothing at all. Sometimes I think it would easier to tell people, to tell my boss, my friends but then everything would change and I would still be the same, just looked at and treated differently. Mental illness makes people uneasy and uncomfortable, kind of like crying in front of your boss, it’s something no one wants to deal with. When people know they start compensating and compromising around you like you might break or something. But I won’t because I’m already broken and you don’t need to compromise or compensate for me as I already do that for myself. Everyone that has a mental illness adjusts and works around “normal” as we are the most messed up but together people, the most scared friggin bravest people you will ever encounter. Every man that has a limp works his way up the stairs. Some of the smartest, most creative people I know suffer from mental illnesses. I know this girl who I consider the most beautiful, talented, intelligent woman I have ever met who takes handfuls of pills everyday just to walk out the door but to the world she is just stunning and smart. But it’s not all roses and it rarely smells as good. I know that mental illness gives me the gift of self expression and awareness that some never realise, but it also hands me the burden of unpredictability and this is one thing that just doesn’t work in this world. I know that in the end it is the ones that just turn up that wins the prize and no amount of charm, intelligence or insight will beat that. I know this as much as the fact that I know that I can’t always turn up. This may mean I take too many sick days, cancel too many plans, and let you down but for me it means so much more than that, and that realisation, is the only thing that I would ever ask you to compromise on. Treat me like any other as I am stronger than you think I just sometimes forget how to open that fucking door.