The Return of Anxiety

It was about a week ago when I had a total meltdown. I had been feeling great for quite a while, confident and secure. I wasn’t worrying about much. I was having fun, goofing off and enjoying myself. And then the meltdown happened. One minute I was fine, the next minute I was completely aware of how stupid and annoying I am. A wave of depression washed over me and I felt like I owed everyone an apology. An apology for what? I don’t know. I guess for existing within their range of awareness.

This happens once in a while. I usually choose to get drunk when it happens. Yes, yes, I drink, well, often. But usually I drink because I enjoy it and not as a means of comfort. When I’m in a total slump, I drink because it gives me some measure of peace. It numbs my senses to whatever is bothering me. By the time the alcohol wears off, the worst of whatever it was that had me so down will be behind me. At least that’s how it usually works out.

But even though the worst is behind me, there’s a sort of recovery stage that follows. I have to rebuild my confidence. It’s a slippery slope. I gain some ground and I lose some ground, and eventually I make to the top of the mountain again. Eventually I will be able to stop second guessing myself and everything will be dandy.

This anxiety, or whatever you call it, might well be over nothing. Right now, though, I’m not so sure that it is. But whether it’s over nothing or not, I’ll make it to the top of the mountain, eventually.