Categories
Personal | Pessoal

BACK TO THE NIGHTMARE

Last week I was said my request for an unpaid leave was not valid due to an alleged error on my proceedings. This happens after four months of leave. Now I’m back to work until things are solved out.

All the heavy symptoms of depression and anxiety are back. I can hardly move or eat. Most of my gestures must be done slowly and it gets real hard to remember what I intended to do seconds before. The buzz on my ears is constant, the elephant foot presses my chest like in the days I head no diagnosis nor medicines, I am regressing four years.

People have no idea of the immobilizing force of both generalized anxiety disorder and major depression. This thing involves grief, panic, numbness, really fast streams of inchoative interior monologue, disorientation, guilt, anger, despair, chills, sweats and what not, all flooding your veins from an anthill eroding your stomach and chest. Only fear prevents you from suicide. Though you hate it, fear becomes your only true friend.

I fear the day of losing fear. Someday, head diving from my sixth floor balcony will become pretty easy. All it takes is a few steps, a little climbing and letting myself go. Someday I will lose my faith on whatever prevents me to let myself fall free.

Getting hurt and loosing my life still frighten me. For the time being, I persevere as a survivor. My ambitions as an artist and a lover are what keep me going. I fear the day my heart realizes those ambitions are fantasies. My survival depends on the naivete of my heart.

Categories
Personal | Pessoal

The Elephant Foot Strikes Back

My lungs and belly are squeezed again. The elephant foot of generalized anxiety disorder is striking me back. Cutting the dose of the antidepressant is not working. It’s too soon for that. The omnipresent chill and the overlapping light-speed thoughts around my possible mistakes in dealing with people are getting me back to paralysis. A high amount of effort, energy and discipline is summoned to get this giant foot out of my chest. I fear the abyss of exhaustion presented to me. I hope the reposition of the dose of the antidepressant does its thing.

I have no salary now. I left teaching, definitely. I am trying to collect and sell houses to earn commissions. It is weird, talking on the phone and presenting myself as the ideal partner to solve financial stresses. All I want is to make comic books.