2013ish

Damn it. Here I thought I'd be able to write every day.
Journaling with a computer is much more difficult than with pen and paper... my kid doesn't care about me messing with pen and paper. Computer? That kid will wreck my shit.

My anxiety is a roller coaster... not the traditional kind, but like the fucking Goliath at Six Flags (don't know what I'm talking about? You're missing out, bro).
Each time one of my kids cries I freak out... my heart races thinking "this is it... my kid has it."
I fucking "stress sweat" all fucking day. I live in my pajamas since it's pointless to fuck up any more of my clothes with this fucking sweat.

Then some days I feel sort of like myself. I feel like AnoMALIE2013ish. I'm at home with my parents, I hang out in my room... I walk on the treadmill and sweat up a storm. I write in my blog. Ha. I'm temporarily at peace.
Then one of my babies cries.
Or my husband texts me some stressful shit (Jesus Christ, does the home go to hell when I'm not there. All hell fucking breaks loose... everything fucking breaks. Shit drives me fucking nuts).
Or I check Twitter.

One positive is that my panic attacks have been greatly reduced. I am nowhere near the level I was when I started writing again. I'm still scared as shit... irritated as shit... paranoid as shit... but I think I'm sort of at the resignation portion of this wild ride. Sort of. I still cry when I think one of my parents or kids could catch this shit.

I wish I could write about any other type of subject. Or be funny, or just anything other than paranoid and terrified... but I can't.

I hope I can write more tomorrow.