My Reasonable and Unreasonable Anxiety

For whatever reason, I'm prone to feelings of intense anxiety these days. I lump anxious feelings into two basic categories: Reasonable and Unreasonable. Let me give you a couple of examples. That's probably the simplest way to explain.

Reasonable Anxiety: I am sick, but responsible to a fault. So when people start dumping projects on me at work because our department is short staffed or someone else has just given up, I get a little crazy. I start wondering if they'll ever take me seriously when I tell them I am swamped or if they'll just keep pushing me until I break. My weekends feel like they are shrinking. Forty-eight hours isn't enough time to recover from the week before. I keep my eyes out for other jobs, then worry about starting over.

Unreasonable Anxiety: I'm in public, there are things there, and I think I might die.

Am I a Chronic Target?

When I'm feeling particularly down about life, its past unpleasantries always bubble up to the surface of my brain. Like right now I'm thinking about that one time my brother saw my chronic illness as an opportunity to sell me nutrition supplements and convert me to veganism.

You see, he's healthy (except for that whole alcoholism thing, but whatever) and only eats a plant-based diet. So logically, I must be sick because I don't eat or live like he does. If I'd just spend hundreds of dollars on his magical pyramid scheme powder, I too could be bony as all get out and post pictures of asparagus and beets to my Instagram account twice a day!

Fortunately for me, my brother's M.O. is to completely stop doing anything that doesn't come easily. So when I told him I'd look into his magic powder if he'd send me some info, I was 99% confident he wouldn't bring it up again. And? So far, so good. It was five months ago today he said he'd send me a couple of links.

But my brother isn't the only one who's tried to profit from my poor health. A friend and fellow chronic who sells Avon-like substances from home (and knows that money is extremely tight for me) tried to sell me the newest flavor of hand lotion last week when I complained to a small selection of people on Facebook about weird bumps forming on the back of my hands. Many people assured me they get the same rash and are fine, but it was the subtle sales pitch that caused me to delete the post and abandon my Facebook account.

I literally have no one to tell my troubles too. People that don't get it just don't get it. And people who do get it -- friends in similar situations and support-group types -- make me feel worse about myself.