I just calmed myself down from a panic attack with a yt video.
I’ll leave it right here, just in case you need it.
Remember: You are breathing, you’re alive and you are safe. It will pass. Now focus on breathing. Ily.✨
A long time ago I realized that when it’s very quiet, I can hear a clicking noice near my jaw/ear when I breathe or talk…
And then I realized I would also get severely triggered by people eating popcorn at the theater, or cereal in the kitchen and oh GOD AND THE CLOCKS TICKING FOR FUCKS SAKE!
So, I’m misophonic…
Have you trIED TO GO TO SLEEP WITH A CLICKING INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD EVERY TIME YOU BREATH IN AND OUT?!
I think it’s happening again.
I hate when all of my thoughts and emotions hit me like a brick in the ribs.
I was offered a promotion, which I immediately accepted. Now instead of working a normal 3 days a week as a part-time position, I’ll finally be full-time! A lot has happened though.
It’s becoming really difficult to keep my occupation from those of you tuning in, so I guess I’ll just come out and say it since it’ll be a lot easier. I am a zookeeper. Wild, right? And with being a zookeeper, comes a lot of emotional stress.
Specifically, we have a Blue-and-Gold Macaw. He’s perfect in every imaginable way, except when he tries to go for my finger while offering him a peanut. We have a really, really, really great relationship.
I’ve been training him for a few months now and it’s really fun to see how far he’s come in presenting behaviors to me. He has even started to mimic my voice. Parrots use mimicking to fit into their group, so each flock of parrots in the wild actually has a “dialect” that is unique to that group. SO, since this Macaw is around people more than he is around other birds, he mimics our voices. He says things like “Hi,” “Good Boy,” and sometimes plays “Peek-a-Boo.”
Something we rountinely do with the majority of our bird species is beak and nail trims, this helps them utilize their beak the best way they can as far as using it to eat and groom themselves.
In order to trim their beak and nails, a dremel is used, so we have to hold the bird during this process to make sure no one gets hurt or the bird doesn’t try to hurt themselves.
Well, when this Macaw was caught up, it was very, very stressful. It was not a smooth process by any means, and I wish I wouldn’t have been in the room watching. At one point his eyes glazed over and he started to have a seizure.
I watched as the person holding him put him on the ground as he continued to flail.
That bird is my best friend.
I immediately did everything I could to help out everyone around me, but that thought continued to replay in my mind.
He’s my best friend.
What would I do without him everyday?
By the time we had arrived back at the building where everything had happened, he had snapped out of it. He climbed back up onto his wooden perch, clearly a little out of it, but overall much more normal.
I was so relieved. I stay and observed him for about an hour to be sure that he was okay.
But even on my drive home all I could think about is how he would be tomorrow? Would he be okay? Would I find him deceased?
What would I have done if I lost my best friend in front of my eyes?
Oh, how I would’ve spiraled.
Somniphobia (2020) fear of sleep
It’s supposed to be a rare phobia, but there’s a number of reasons people might be afraid to go to sleep. For me it’s the thought of if I go to sleep I won’t wake up of anything happens, it stems from childhood. It’s hard to stay awake but the anxiety battles though.
This will be yet another mental health post, but I won’t put it under a cut this time because a) I’m on mobile and don’t know how to do it here and b) yes, friends might read this. I will eben tag this and try not to feel guilty for being an attention whore by doing so. This will be longer I guess, so sorry if you have to scroll through because of a).
I thought I would have stagnated. I went to a psychosomatic clinic this summer and felt like it had not helped at all. I tried to put myself out there again and had a good moment and an immediate throwback in more than one ways. But now I’m lying here, crying over videos I see or stories I read about certain mental health things and for the first time I can accept that what I read is applying to me. I knew before, but now I accept.
I have a trauma from school and bullying. It still feels weird to say it, because I always thought that Trauma had to be something big, something life threatening and not a shitty teacher and a bunch of kids you knew since you were 3, who turned on you all of a sudden. I studied social work, took child care and protection classes, but the Traumas that were discussed there were always cases of severe violence, abuse, neglect and so on. No one ever told me that things that don’t seem so threatening can stick to you and change how you react for such a long time.
I’ve been told by three or four therapists by now that what vi experienced was trauma, but only recently therapists were using actual methods for this on me. I’ve been a lively and adventurous kid until second grade. I had a math teacher who was hysterical, got emotional outbursts, screamed at us and got physical. This was known, my brothers who’s six years older had her as well.
I remember her screaming at us, especially me. I’ve never been a math genius but this woman managed that I developed a solid fear of maths. I clearly remember her pulling my hair in front of the class, because I did not know what 7x7 was. To this day, I forgot simple formulas, my mind goes blank if too much math is involved and I’m slow calculating in my head. I started to emotionally shut down and burst into tears when doing maths homework. I was 7.
When I got into third grade, we had a maths test at the very beginning of the year and I failed it miserably. I remember I was devesrated and I link the beginning of my bullying with it and just remembered why. I got an emotional outburst. I screamed, I cried I felt helpless and lost and it was too extreme a reaction to a failed test for all around me. I now know that it was a stress response to what I had experienced before and what I linked to it. I feared to get my hair pulled again, to be screamed at. But this odd behavior only made the other kids frown on me and trying to make me this upset again., which resulted in me not having friends and not understanding why people I knew since kindergarten and who were perfectly fine with me some months ago could be so cruel.
And just some weeks ago, I saw a video on how trauma comes to be. It isn’t the severity, but the surprise that shake our core beliefs. I might have a genetic disposition to anxiety disorders, which might have made it “easier” to be shaken by what happened, but that’s not the sole reason it affscted me like it did. Another video stated that trauma is the way we react to what happens. This firstly made me think “Oh, so you’re an over dramatic bitch that was so startled by such a thing that you developed a trauma. How pathetic”. How dare I think this about myself.
The way I experienced it is valid. It did what it did to me and I can’t change that. Maybe I’m too sensitive, but I can’t go back and tell this my sobbing 7 yo self. I lost all my adventurous attitude. I cried a lot and developed a general anxiety disorder that was only diagnosed when I was 21. I was shamed and frowned upon my overly sensitive and emotional reactions, and as the manifestations of my GAD, mostly extreme nausea. All of this only made me hate myself more and more. People said I’m weird, not normal, mentally disabled and I believed them. I tried to please them all, to just not be alone and laughed at anymore. I’m well aware that there are people with far more severe and terrible stories, but this is mine and I can’t change either.
My parents tried best their could, but looking back a proper therapy as a child might have helped me. Instead I wasn’t doing good in school, because stress let me break down completely. I had anxiety when doing tests and exams, a high perfectionism I’m still not able to act upon though. My parents had not been the cause for all this and tried to help as best they could, but the damage was done.
And still, parts of this personality I had before the trauma was still there, though I felt like I had to hide it, otherwise people would reject me for who I am. I missed out on much, simply because I did not grève the mental strength to try, fearing my peers would not accept me.
My self esteem is pretty low most of the times still, but somehow I’m now at a point where I can look back on this stuff and say:
“This was messed up. There’s nothing you could have done better or to prevent it. The teacher should not have acted like this. Adults should have protected you and take your desperation seriously. The other kids, no matter their own awful experiences were not entitled to treat you like shit. You’re réactions are not over the top, they were cries for help. You did not deserve this, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And if I could turn back in time, I would come to your aid and kick their arses.”
I wasted so much time hating myself. I might not be perfect, no one is, but I’m okay. I’m enough. I don’t have to be outstanding at something to be worth it, I already am, by merely existing. I’m worthy of love. I’m worthy of respect. I might have had a lot of help and I might took longer than most around ne, but I accomplished things. Things people like the math Teacher or stupid parents of stupid classmates told me I never will.
I got my high-school diploma. I studied. It took me 6 instead of 3 years for a Bachelor’s degree, but I was experiencing flashback anxiety because it reminded me if school and I had to stay at home for one whole year, because I was so deep into anxiety and depression. And I made it.
I’m the first one with an academic degree in my whole family. Despite feeling like shit and thinking I can do nothing, I decided to pull through. The scores I had on papers do not define how professional I am, because I had to write them with severe panic attacks and procrastination problems.
I had long and stable relationships. I learned to drive. I figured I’m Bi, came out and nothing terrible happened. I went to Japan, with my girlfriend at the time for two months, just the two of us. I moved out and lived with another person. I quit a toxic job, because I knew it was toxic. I made friends.
Writing this down does not come easy, but I’m doing it right now. Being able to admit my successes is a huge step. I’m currently experiencing something like a second adolescents, and I think that’s because I finally understand that I have to learn what I really am, what I want. I might overcompensate but that’s okay. After 13 years of therapy and meds, and a noch most time without much help in this regard I’m allowed to do so.
I will not be loved by everyone and that’s okay, because it means I don’t have to love everyone in return. People do like me for what I am, even if it’s hard to grasp. I’m not too old for things with 33 and I’m allowed to like “childish” stuff and it does not make me less of an adult. I deserve happiness and to cut toxic people out of my life. I will find a new job and it’s okay if I feel like I don’t know anything, I’m not dumb and I can learn quick.
I’m more than my mental illness, it does not define me completely.
Hits me in my fan girl feels.. 🖤
Happy Unavoidable Binge Day ✌️
U kno a lot of ppl talk about lactose intolerance but still drinking milk yet not enough ppl talk about having an anxiety disorder/adhd/other mental illness and still drinking caffeine even though it makes u feel like a nascar race car. Like both my therapist and my psychiatrist have told me multiple times not 2 ingest caffeine because it makes me go crazy but Coca Cola is fuckin delicious and I’m willing to spend a few hours of my life in a state of constant fight or flight just for a taste of that sweet sweet crisp bubble juice.
OCD isnt a joke. I wish people would stop using it to describe the fact they like to be tidy or some other bullshit. I cant stop obsessing, the sleepless nights, the pure terror. Its draining.
so, fore some reason i need to be loved and i need other people to show me they don’t hate me.
i can’t explain it, but sometimes i get irrational feeling that someone i like actually hates me. and at that moment, i need that person to tell me they like my company, or tell me anything at all.
but it often ends up just by silence, i’m not talking to them because i have the feeling they don’t want to talk to me. and all i need in that situation is to know people don’t hate me all the time.
and i know this is the result of my anxiety disorder mixed up with irrational insecurities, but still. i need attention, i need to be appreciated, i need to be loved.
Headcanon: Wendy Darling having anxiety disorder and James Hook being there for her, soothing her and loving her, having had his fair share of trauma, considering his PTSD condition. (they are a troubled duo for sure, but they have each other!)
“Come over here, babe
It ain’t that bad
I don’t claim to understand
The troubles that you’ve had
But the dogs you say they fed you to
Lay their muzzles in your lap
And the lions that they led you to
Lie down and take a nap
The ones you fear are wind and air
And I love you without measure
It seems we can be happy now
Be it better late than never (…)
Walk with me now under the stars
For it’s a clear and easy pleasure
And be happy in my company
For I love you without measure (…)”
This is, hopefully very obviously, a headcanon for adult Wendy Darling.
Unfortunately my skills are very limited, hence the lack of manips
and me going simply for the scene where she was still a girl…
Even when at home when I try to stay sitting down, I feel like my body is screaming at me to lay down. Does anyone else feels like this?
after listening to “u was at the club (bottoms up)” i’ve decided that i no longer have an anxiety disorder. i will be stopping my medications.
Meditating makes me feel really good although i can only go for 15-20 minutes. My thoughts fly around and i don’t try to silence them. Breathing exercises help me feel grounded. I stop fighting against my own body and listen what it says instead.
It’s an amazing tool for healing.
Eastern societies knew what they were doing, huh…
(Also here is a photo of the pigeons that i try to feed every day)
I just don’t remember enough