My anxiety has been horrible this week and it’s Sunday.

I’m constantly on edge.

Constantly worrying that something is about to go wrong.

Be set ablaze.

Crash.

My Dad asked me where the anxiety stems from this weekend.

That something must go through my mind to start to amp it all up.

And it probably does.

But not much has to happen to get it sparked.

(no pun intended)

That tightness of my chest.

The fear that I’m going to die when I step outside.

It’s extreme and irrational, I know.

So how do I get it to stop?

I’ve been pumping lavender capsules like they pay me to take them.

And nothing seems to cut the edge off so I can breathe.

Nothing is seeming to work for me.

The only thing I can think of is to go back on Benzodiazepines like Clonazepam.

Even if it’s just a prn and a low dose.

And I don’t need it everyday.

But I highly, highly doubt my doctor will okay that.

He didn’t even want to okay another daily dose of Propranolol.

I’m stuck.

I’m so anxious it’s hard for me to leave my house.

I do, begrudgingly so.

But I’m uncomfortable the entire time I’m gone.

Especially if Bruce is still at home alone.

My biggest fear right now is fire.

Bruce is trapped in the apartment, burning alive.

I told my therapist and he said I wasn’t wrong about the chances of a fire too.

Kinda unhelpful.

Really unhelpful.

Not that I’m looking for blind opposition and validation.

Just an understanding of my problems and a comforting phrase.

I just feel like I shouldn’t be here right now.

Like I should be past these irrational fears.

But I’m not.

And they’re popping up left and right.

I’m scared of everything.

I’m terrified of the people around me dying.

I’m terrified of getting into a car accident.

Of getting stabbed again.

Of getting held up again.

Like all of these past traumatic issues just surface out of nowhere to torment me.

Maybe my Prozac needs to be upped.

Maybe that’s a place to start at.

Because the Buspirone hasn’t been terribly helpful for me.

In smoking cessation yes.

But not anxiety reducing.

I haven’t even been taking my Trazodone the past few months.

I’ve been staying away from caffeine too even.

It’s been helping, but I still have this edge of irrational anxieties.

They don’t make much sense.

I feel like my prediction ability has been on point lately.

So that throws my “I fucking knew it” into high gear.

I had a feeling my parents car was going to be totaled soon and it was this last week.

I fucking knew it.

See?

There’s one.

I saw that turtle cross the road the other week too and I knew that was going to happen too.

Having a fire with Brucie trapped inside isn’t too far off.

It’s encompassing.

And not in a good way.

At all.

I heard voices last night.

It’s now Tuesday.

I couldn’t understand what they were saying but it was the first time in about a week, or five days or so.

It sounded like someone was just on the other side of my door talking about something.

Which I know isn’t possible.

I know I can’t hear jack shit from outside in the apartment.

It’s irrational.

But I didn’t take anything for it.

I can’t help but think my anxiety goes hand in hand with my psychosis.

I’m trying to stay away from my Halopierdol because it makes me drool and makes me a zombie.

I can’t feel anything when I’m on it because I already take the Paliperidone everyday anyway.

I’ve been having terrible dreams this week and woke up with my sheets and clothes soaked this morning.

I wish I had a washer and dryer for my sheets.

I had to shower. 

I felt so gross and couldn’t stop sweating this morning even after my shower.

It took hours – half the day, to stop sweating from my dreams.

I remember in my dream I got something in my good eye and was really upset about it because it hurt.

That’s all I remember.

I was completely  drenched when I woke up.

You could tell where I was laying because the sheets were a darker color where my body had been laying.

I hate that I feel like I can’t even get rest right.

My psych NP says I can take the Buspirone three times a day Instead of twice and is rewriting the prescription for me.

I think.

I hope.

So hopefully that will help a bit, but I doubt it.

It’s just so exhausting.

I don’t want to leave my apartment.

Because of the fire possibility.

I leave most everything off when I do go – when I have to get groceries or go to an appointment or something.

I’ve been working on my anxiety in my therapy sessions but we’ve stopped recently and have been trying to curb my depression.

I can’t help but think we should keep working on my anxiety.

That something isn’t okay with me.

– Keren