I don't want to talk about all the anxiety and stress that built up over the course of my day. There were some very good bits, but it's mostly been pretty awful. One of the most frustrating things, I find, about bad days, is that they're very difficult to talk about. I have a lot of anxiety problems, so what makes a bad day for me can sound silly or trivial to a lot of other people, which makes it very hard to open up and look for help. If I admit that I had a terrible morning, that included a near anxiety attack, because I mis-scheduled an appointment, and the person to whom I'm admitting accuses me of being a drama queen or an attention whore, I have a strong emotional response, which comes in three parts:
- I feel attacked and trivialized, as though my pain isn't valid if it doesn't occur for the reasons someone else can think of off the top of their head,
- I'm annoyed at the sexism implicit in most accusations of overreaction,
- I'm enraged at being forced into a position where I have to either argue, while in emotional pain and being therefore unlikely to make sense, or pretend that I'm fine, setting a dangerous precedent wherein my actual feelings are constantly out-of-step with the mask I'm putting it on, making me unable to form real relationships with the people around me.
One of the awful things about that thought cycle, by the way, is that it happens whether or not there's even anyone around to ask me about it. I can't help it. There's nothing else to think about. It's like when I get anxious, my brain builds a box, and inside that box are my ability to pay attention to things, and hypothetical scenarios involving the people I might encounter within the next two hours.
So, that's how my mind has been treating me today. Philosophy through Film post about Memento coming tomorrow.