crutch.

I was thinking of something to title this entry with and I thought, “hey, why don’t I just try to make a mental image of what I’m feeling”. But then I imagined myself with a broken leg but still trying to run a marathon, but I only have one crutch. That doesn’t make sense, though, like most of my thoughts. HOWEVER. I did pull an analogy from that weird thought. Kind of. My dog was my crutch. While I feel I’ve always suffered from some type of anxiety, it never got really bad until I was eighteen. I also met Coby when I was eighteen, and took him home with me after I turned nineteen. It’s almost like he knew exactly what to do. I’d be in my bedroom, giant Peace Frog painted on the wall (which unfortunately didn’t provide any actual peace), and I’d sometimes get anxiety attacks. Had trouble breathing, heart would beat out of my chest, vision would get blurry, etc. Coby would do this thing in which he’d come up to me, push himself under my arm, and I’d match my breathing with his heartbeat. It was our thing. He’d growl at Shaun if he got near me during an attack. He was my crutch. Now it’s like that crutch has been yanked away. I’ve had more panic attacks this week thank I’ve had in a long time. They last longer. I’m trying to find ways to get through them, because I know I have to get used to a new routine. I have to stop depending on a 14lb dog to get me through my depressions. He won’t be there to lay on my legs while I sleep at night, he won’t be there to watch bad reality TV when I’m home sick, he won’t be under the kids’ beds anymore, he won’t be able to ignore Shaun’s mere existence anymore.

I’ve tried to find things to calm me down. Crocheting frustrates me, I haven’t felt like writing, walking is out since I hurt my knee, and I tried watercolor painting last night (it was bad. really, really bad).

I almost feel resentful of other people being able to feel normal. It’s confusing how life goes on when you feel so sad.