Anxiety and I go way back. To early childhood, actually. Anxiety is that old friend whom I don't wish to see, like the person you notice in the distance and quickly duck into the closest aisle of the store...which usually ends up being one with uncool products like Raid or Preparation H or tin foil.
Anyway, this time Anxiety presented itself in different clothing. It just sort of happened upon me, uninvited. I'm not worried about anything specific. In fact, I hesitate to coin it "anxiety". But...I have a heightened sense of hearing, even more than that which I've previously compared to The Bionic Woman. I'm walking around in a constant state of agitation. I've dug at and picked the skin all around the nail beds of my fingers. Try as I may, I cannot stop. My right forearm and right thigh feel sunburned. If someone could please find the brat that's running the sandpaper across my left cheek and around my ribcage, bring him to me. It feels as if my right foot is covered in creepie crawlies, but alas...it is not. Over the past week and a few days, I've not slept more than 4-5hrs/night, and no more than 2hrs in succession. But I can handle all of that, as annoying as it is. What I can't handle? Is the fact that my mind has decided to exit stage left.
You know how each day is chock full of situations flying at you, things you have to quickly adjust to, plans you made that you have to change on a dime, and the barrage of interruptions that carelessly dive into your overall flow? My mind just threw it all up and walked away in disgust. If you've ever felt as if your head was nauseous, then you've been where I am.
What annoys me right now? Everything. Planning and re-planning. People messing up my flow. My flow. And people. The noise at work, the sound of my husband's spoon clanging at the bottom of his cereal bowl and subsequent slurrrrrp of the milk, the tapping of the keys as I type, and the "ding ding" of my car telling me I'm low on gas. Does it not think I know this? I'm old enough to remember the days when you still had to think to drive a car. Now they make them so they park themselves and even sense when you're not paying attention. Even that annoys me. Friends, you can keep it. I'm too much of a control freak to let my car so much as think about driving itself. If I attempt to parallel park and whack a car, it'll be because I did so, darn it! Wait. This is clearly the lack of sleep talking. Sadly, the gas gauge dinger has gotten the best of me. I'm at the point where the mere thought of stopping for, pumping, and paying for my gas is completely overwhelming to me. Why can't it just run on coffee, as I do? Nevermind. That would be more expensive than it already is.
I'm not sure how long this state of mental spew will last, but what I'm positive of is...it's all temporary. I had an awesome conversation the other morning with a dear friend over coffee. How perfect is that scenario? I digress. She was sharing a bit about a bible study she's doing on God's love and how, if we even had the smallest inkling of how much we are loved, we couldn't help but walk around in a constant state of joy. Perfectly timed discussion for my current cerebral nausea. That reminder helps me attempt to combat these false feelings of agitation with some good, ol' fashioned truth.
Funny, as I'm trying to think of a catchy sentence to close with, the song "Joyfully" just came on the radio. Alright, Kari Jobe. I'll just attach your song and call it a night. Thanks for your perfect timing. This is why I friended you on facebook, just sayin'...