Anxiety Attacks are Aholes, you guys.

1. Anxiety Attacks are Aholes because…

…they usually occur out of the blue with zero warning.

Like today. There I was, sitting at my computer, doing computer-ish types of things, minding my own business. I was trying to figure out how to re-blog a post from Triberr, and that bitch hit me out of nowhere. I didn’t have the slightest clue it was coming.

Just, suddenly, *WHAMMY*… and then,

“Oh. I guess I’m having an Anxiety Attack now.”

THANKS FOR THE HEADS UP, AHOLE!

2. Anxiety Attacks are Aholes because…

…they usually occur over a big heaping bowl of NOTHING.

Like today. I couldn’t figure out how to enable the re-blog function, mostly because I’m a dumb-dumb, and not at all because of Triberr. It’s actually pretty simple to do if you aren’t in the throes of panic.

But since I couldn’t breathe and whatnot, everything was suddenly all logarithmic, which is a fancy-pants way of saying astronomically impossible. I couldn’t even make words.

Words, you guys. I’m a writer. And I’m known for my wordiness. I’ve been accused multiple times of being OVERLY wordy. But not only were there no words, there was also no re-blogging. I couldn’t do any of it.

THANKS FOR MAKING A MOUNTAIN OUT OF A MOLEHILL, AHOLE!

3. Anxiety Attacks are Aholes because…

…they make you act dumb.

Or, in some cases dumber than you already were. Which in my case is pretty goddamn dumb. Like today. I couldn’t even explain to my hubz, “Darling, I seem to be having an Anxiety Attack. Would you mind taking over this very simple chore for me? KTHNXBAI.”

Nope. I was only able to act dumb. Running away from my computer, I tried to hide in my bedroom, but that’s no good because our house is kind of loft-style-ish in that there aren’t any doors to the upstairs rooms. So it’s not like I could slam the door and throw my face into my pillow and cry.

Besides, I had to get dressed because we were supposed to be leaving soon. So instead of hiding in my {open} bedroom, I grabbed my clothes and ran to the restroom, where I started to change from pajamas into world-outside-my-house clothes.

But OOPS… I had dropped my shirt on the way.

So I had to stick my head out the door and yell for help. I was only half-dressed, and my adult son was sitting there laughing his head off because I wouldn’t come out and get the shirt myself.

More tears from me, and finally my hubz, my son, and my daughter were all three searching the house for my shirt. They retraced my path from my bedroom to the restroom. No shirt. WTF, you guys, seriously?

Yeah. It turns out I merely THOUGHT I had picked out and grabbed a shirt, but apparently I only picked it out in my {addled} brain without actually grabbing it, so it was still in my dresser.

Fuck Anxiety Attacks, you guys.

THANKS FOR THAT SHINY, GLITTERY DUMBNESS YOU THRUST UPON ME, AHOLE!

4. Anxiety Attacks are Aholes because…

…they have the potential to ruin the rest of your day.

Or life. Depending on what’s happening and who you’re with.

Lucky for me, my Ahole Anxiety Attacks seldom ruin more than a twenty-minute period, for the most part.

• I’m medicated, which makes them much less likely to occur in the first place, and much shorter in endurance on the few occasions they do decide to pounce.
• My hubz is generally excellent in understanding that I’m momentarily incapacitated, which is lovely because he can kind of take over for a second while I hide under my desk and recuperate. He is pretty fucking special, and I should know. Also, you cannot have him, and I’m sorry for you, because he is WONDERFUL for these sorts of emergencies.

So there I am in the restroom, finally dressed. I put on some deodorant, brushed my hair, and bent over to pick up the deodorant and the brush because when you have an Anxiety Attack you are clumsy and you drop ALL THE THINGS. Or maybe that’s just me.

Are you picturing my fat ass in the air? Bent over? Is it funny to you? GOOD.

Because then I split my fucking pants.

And had to yell out the restroom door again for someone to retrieve more clothing on my behalf. Fuck my life, you guys. Just… Fuck my life.

Because you know how you thought that shit was funny? Well, my family was cracking up, too, and I couldn’t decide if I should laugh or cry. What happened was some kind of mix of the laughter/cry/shriek which escaped my lips as something like a beat-down whimper.

So… THANKS FOR TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE, AHOLE!

5. Anxiety Attacks are Aholes because…

…they can lead to Depression.

Mostly that no longer happens to me, in part because of the medication, in part because of my fabulous hubz, and in part because I’ve grown leaps and bounds and no longer cry over spilled milk.

That’s a complete fucking lie. I totally cry over spilled milk because I’m the bitch that has to clean it up since no one else in this household knows how to properly take care of that sort of mess.

But I don’t cry over aliens bursting from my neck, or hematomas, or cotton swabs getting stuck in my ear. Mostly I just laugh. And then I usually write about it. Because shit be funny. And also, one of my Personal Commandments is:

“Catastrophe NOW makes a great story LATER.”

Which is absolutely the truth.

And I gotta tell ya, I almost got Depressed over ripping my pants, because that only generally happens to people who are overweight. But I didn’t have time to feel Depressed because we had places to go and people to scream at.

So, even though it didn’t work, THANKS FOR POTENTIALLY ADDING TO MY DEPRESSION ISSUES, AHOLE!

So there you have it.

Five reasons explaining why Anxiety Attacks are Aholes. I didn’t let it get the best of me, but it was trying awfully hard to bring me down. I think this particular Anxiety Attack underestimated the power of my family’s mockery.

Because as I exited the restroom, my hubz said, “My wife can’t even get dressed without help!” Seeing him bent over, guffawing at my expense, and then seeing also my two kids crying from laughing at me so hard, anyone would realize that being Depressed would have been nigh on impossible.

Good try though, Ahole. Well played. You almost got me there.

Make me understand.

Do you ever suffer Anxiety Attacks? When do they most often occur for you? How do you deal with them? Have you managed to effectively control them? Or do they knock you on your ass and make you be dumb like me? I want all the deets, for realz.