I noted on my facebook wall that I sometimes eat dessert before I eat dinner. I actually prefer it I think.

I do a lot of things backwards and always have.

I'm just going to put it out there and say it. I'm suffering from anxiety lately. The really awful kind where you think you're totally losing it.

I am hesitant to write about it for two reasons: because I write about it in my journal every night already and because sometimes writing about it makes me think too much about it and I throw myself into a panicked state.

I've dealt with this for as long as I can remember, which makes me very sad. I know everyone has their own set of issues and I know that everyone I see could be fighting a harder battle. But I have to tell you, battles of the mind can be excruciating.

I have been desperately trying to rid myself of the worry and have taken some suggestions from others. One of my friends bought me a peppermint plant that apparently eases the mind, my father suggested some relaxing tea (which I tried for one day but stopped after I came down with a splitting headache because my body needed coffee) and have even dusted off an old CD of affirmations by a very strange sounding woman named Belleruth.

Belleruth's voice is soothing in the "old woman who talks very slow" kind of way. I popped the CD in on my way to work the other day and found my mind instantly rejecting the idea of it based on her voice alone. But I gave it more time. I began to listen to the words. They were cheesy, they ARE cheesy. But after a while I began to enjoy "thanking my body for all it has done for me in the past and all it will do for me in the future."

I believe the point of the affirmations is to allow us to get out of our minds and to become more body conscious. Because our bodies are constantly fighting for us, helping us overcome life, more than we give it credit for.

Things could be worse my friends. I could have an awful terminal illness and no chance at living. That's a depressing thought if I've ever written one. But I don't.

I'm constantly reminding myself in times of inner turmoil that I'm just uncoiling some tightly bound wires that have gripped me since childhood. I've tried prying them open and allowing them to unfold on their own, but they won't. So I'm trying a new route. I'm actually talking about it with other people and hoping someone magically cures me. Even though I know this is an inside job, I need to lean on some support.

I know that time is key here, so I will wait for this to pass.

In other news, I love my job. At work I rarely feel anxious. Someone tell me why the most stressful 8 hours of everyday are a breeze for me but coming home and getting to bed are awful.

Oh wait, I've already told you: Because I am a backwards ass chick.

But a strong one.

4 Minute Prose

Sometimes when I think of you

All my fingers turn to blue

And then my face it gets so red

I feel as heavy as the dead

You laugh and balk and sulk and yell

You claim it's truth you're trying to sell

But it just feels like nails and stones

Are cutting me and breaking bones

It's you who makes me second guess

Some things I think I must confess

Is my nose too big, arms too fat?

And other vainish things like that

I came from you; you gave me life

But you bring pain and you bring strife

I wish instead of pushing me

You'd find a mirror or two or three

Until you saw what you really were

A scared, broken soul in lion's fur

~ Adia Belle

Tumbling

I just wrote a post and then deleted it. After reading it over, I felt irritated by my own negativity.

It was true, what I said. About how my mother's words cut me once again and how even after all this time, it still takes days for me to shake her.

But I actually don't feel like seeing the words written so deeply.

So I'm going to finish my laundry and head to bed. I've had an exhausting day of work and thinking. I hope and pray that I can get a nice full night's sleep.

The trick is not how much pain you feel - but how much joy you feel. Any idiot can feel pain. Life is full of excuses to feel pain, excuses not to live, excuses, excuses, excuses.

Erica Jong