So, I am having a panic attack. It is just one in many that I have had over the years, and this last week. I couldn’t go to an autism Lego event because I was panicking. Stupid, but true. I love events like that with my son. I love talking to other mom’s, sharing experiences, and playing with the kids. Anxiety sucks!

•  I was supposed to write about Inside Out, but cannot write it.
• I have a health blog I am afraid to get wrong.
• I think nobody will read this or anything else I have to write because, well anxiety.
• I am not the mother I want to be due to chronic illness, and cannot accept it.
• I am a horrible housekeeper, in fact, my husband does almost all of it, and makes the meals.
• I am not the best writer.
• I am sick
• I sleep too much
• I hurt all the time.
• My family hates me, and won’t talk to me, and I avoid them because everything I do makes it worse.
• We are broke and have to declare bankruptcy, and I won’t finish our taxes because I hate the idea of bankruptcy.
• I am super sensitive about almost any discussion of my flaws, mostly because the conversation in my head centers around them.
• I impulse shop when I am stressed.
• I will do or try anything to feel better, but no one thing works.
• I suck at network marketing.
• Nobody comes to my parties, or wants to buy what I like and have to sell, mostly because my life is crappy.
• My son is autistic and has ADHD and I can barely stand to be around him some days because he makes my head hurt.
• I cannot have more kids, but really wanted a big family.
• I love baking and cooking, but we are now allergic to all kinds of things and I cannot figure it out.
• I also cannot stand long enough to cook, and when I do, I go to bed without really eating because it hurts so bad.
• Everything I thought I had, or would be, or do has been taken by chronic illness, pain, and fatigue. I cannot function according to my definition of a human being, and I often wonder what the point of my life is.
• I don’t blog. I have lots to say, but I am scared to say it, scared of what you will think of me, or that nobody will read it.
• I self-sabotage – nobody can read a blog that I don’t actually write, and we cannot declare bankruptcy if I don’t do the taxes.

My pain management doctor asked me last week what I do for stress relief, or fun. The answer is nothing, and I have no idea. What I used to do, what I want to do is impossible. I am so stuck, and it makes me so angry. I hate living like this. I look at the people who have the life I dreamt of, and am so jealous. I do not understand why they can live that life, and I cannot. Sometimes I wish or think it would be better if the medical processes that saved my life had failed, or that I just went away somewhere. I am stuck in a body I hate, and I cannot do what I want to do. I have all the health and psychology training, but nothing works, or I just can’t get myself to do what I know I should do.

About the only thing I know how to do, is try again later.