Tailspin (minus the chipmunks). That was a great show thou.

There are times when I am deeply upset by the fact that I cannot seem to do normal things without an intense degree of difficulty.  Going grocery shopping leaves me sweaty, disheveled and needing a nap. Choosing what to make for dinner or what to wear (to the aforementioned grocery store) makes me second guess my mental faculties and decisions for hours, if not days.  I cannot seem to stop at a gas station before 7 AM or after 6PM without needing pharmaceutical help or at least a paper bag to hyperventilate into.  I know all of these things.

I know why they bother me (anxiety triumphs again!) and yet I am upset every time I come home mentally and physically exhausted, self consciously adjust my hair for the 20th time or pray to the automotive gods that my car can make it to the next afternoon as I whiz past a BP.  I curse the spawn of other people I see living their lives as thou they float on clouds of sparkly unicorn farts.  Later on, when I'm relaxed again I remember that I am not alone, and maybe it isn't easy for all of them either.
*40 million Americans live with anxiety disorders and wear very nice outfits.
1.48 million Americans go to the grocery store with depression.
5.7 million bi-polar Americans drive cars full of gas.

I am a part of those numbers.  I remember that every time I go out, it is a victory.  Coming home in a tailspin means that I had to go out in the first place.  I want to talk about how I feel and how it affects  me because I know that at one point I did think I was alone.  I don't want sympathy, I want understanding.  I don't want special treatment, I want patience.  I don't want to be alone, I don't have to be, and I am not.

Sorry, I'll go back to talking about eyeliner and snails soon.  I just needed to scream for a bit.  If you didn't like this, yell at the screen while imagining me nodding thoughtfully and occasionally moving my mouth to one side in a manner that indicates I care and am listening.  Or just go play some Halo.

This post brought to you by a super panic attack brought on by trying to remember if I bought enough food for 4 dinners or only 3.  Also a half flat tire that makes me actively cry yet is easily ignored as it sits next to a very fancy compressor.
*Source: Anxiety and Depression Association of America 

So this is what happens when Tony is at work and I have the big computer.  In theory this will be a place for dogs and food.  A place for nail polish and geekery.  A place for color and colorful ::coughfoulcough:: language.  Most importantly, a place for yarn and alcohol.  And sentence fragments.  If you aren't in to that, well, there's always 4chan. I'm going to go eat fishsticks and paint my nails, then try to figure out how the hell to put pictures on here.  Join me, won't you?