Panic, Guilt, Shame, Repeat

My resting state is low grade panic, my capacity for any additional panic is minimal. I hover right below the surface of full blown panic attack, it doesn’t take much to push me over the edge. It’s like a heavy bag that I am constantly lugging around. There are moments when I manage to set it down and walk away, but I never get far. I only take a few steps before it pulls me back. On the rare occasion that I have made it across the room, even turned the corner leaving it behind, it doesn’t take long before someone recognizes it and brings it back to me. And I’m saddled with the weight once again. I desperately want to throw it off a cliff and never look back. But it has this unexplainable power over me. I am no match. 

I’m terrified of last minute work. I always want to be a few steps ahead to avoid the last minute madness. But life doesn’t always work like that. Some things have to happen at the last minute. I can’t control everything, but my brain won’t let me accept that. It tells me if I consider every possible outcome, every possible roadblock, I can prepare for it and control it. I know this is not a healthy way to think. I wish I could turn it off. From the moment I wake up in the morning, my mind is spinning. I’m making plans in my head before I even open my eyes. I don’t think in moments, I think in weeks. Sometimes months. Perpetually planning ahead. It is both comforting and maddening. It gives me a sense of control but also strips me of the ability to experience any sense of calm. 

Being in such a heightened state all the time is exhausting. Quite the contradiction; to be so wired while also being completely drained. My brain is always buzzing, always alert, but I can’t think, can’t focus. My limbs feel heavy. Movement is effortful, yet I can’t sit still. I can’t remember what it feels like to be well rested, can’t recall what it’s like to think clearly. It’s been so long. I don’t know who I am without Panic. It has become entangled in every part of my life, in every part of me. The longer I carry it around, the heavier it gets. The more it consumes me. The more I lose myself in it. 

There is so much guilt and shame tied up in my inability to cope. I hate that my brain is wired this way. I’m ashamed that I can’t seem to overcome it. I feel guilty that others have to deal with my issues. Despite all of the opportunities, all of the support, all of the resources, all of the love, I’m still broken. I have to let it all go. I have to break free from panic, guilt and shame, but I have no idea how. I’ve been consciously trying for years and haven gotten nowhere. Why is it so challenging to be honest about what I need? I can’t seem to admit it to myself, let alone to others. It sounds too selfish, sometimes too dramatic. Asking for help feels like defeat. Taking a step back is like an admission of failure. I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m meant to be strong and resilient. For many years, I thought I was. But about seven or eight years ago, something shifted and I have been desperately trying to reestablish my footing ever since. 

I’m tired of living a life half lived. Everything is clouded. Any joy I feel is diminished by the fog of panic, guilt or shame. Often all three. I’m constantly strung out. I need to break this cycle, it is unsustainable. I have to learn how to care less. So counterintuitive, but so necessary. I’m envious of those that can establish clear boundaries, stick by them and feel okay about it. The few times in my life that I have been able to stick to my boundaries, I have felt sick. The guilt has been all consuming. There has to be a way to find peace, to rewire my system. There has to be a reset button.