Why the words don't come.

[matt_doyle]

I've been unproductive in both writing and blogging lately (the latter being obvious to you guys) (lately meaning... since June, when it comes to writing), and that's a stress thing.  The writing has been slowly getting better; the blogging slowly worse, but I've had a frustrating couple of days, so I wanted to get it off my chest.  Also i promised y'all a blog post a week, so it's owed.

The problem is, the stress isn't rational.  Megan and I are financially better off than ever.  Several other obvious stressors I've had before are also lower, not higher, than ever before.

And yet, I've been having what I can only describe as anxiety attacks.  They started earlier this year; I don't remember how much earlier.  Before my productivity problems in writing, anyway.  (Two years ago my best year for writing was 40,000 words; this year i am over 100K, clearly productivity problems are relative).

What happens is, I have an intense episode, between, say, two and twenty minutes, where I am paralyzed and preoccupied by the fear of my own mortality.  I think I mentioned this before.  Not fear of death, mind, of mortality.  I don't think I'm going to die any time soon, but the prospect that it will happen eventually, not just to me but to everyone, and that tehre is no knowing what if anything comes next, makes me want to scream and weep and throw up and throw things.  Of course, I don't.  I just sit there being dizzy and angry and fed up at myself, and try to think about something else, or put some fucking rational perspective on the thing, and eventually I succeed and life goes back to normal.

I don't like talking about this.  I don't like posting about this.  it makes me feel vulnerable, and worse, it makes me feel crazy.  Growing up with a clinically paranoid father, being crazy is my biggest fear.  Hell, even these existential panic attacks can't rival my fear of senility, insanity, delusion... just, fuck no, okay?

Sometime around midsummer, I think, I started to find coping mechanisms that worked.  The attacks got less frequent.  Even when they happened, I could ride them out with relative serenity in five minutes or less.

Now they're stepping up again.

In another couple months I will have health insurance.  After I get a doctor to figure out if I have depression or ADD or both, conquering these things is priority numero uno.  Hell, I'll mention it in that first appointment, because maybe it's connected, even though these are new and my other presumptive neurochemical difficulties date back at least to when i hit puberty.

I'm just impatient.  Worst of all, these things both give me an awareness of the limited time I have on this sphere, and simultaneously, they waste my time.  I refuse to spend the next sixty years losing, what, call it point six percent of my time to these things?  That's five months.  I could write a novel in five months.  This bastardly little inconvenience is cutting a novel out of my lifetime potential productivity.

I hate it.

I guess, this year, I've had more than my usual share of spiritual doubts and struggles with faith.  But it's hard to tell which was cause and which was effect, and I've made it past the worst of those, too, so doubt that these things are only... what, theological aftershocks?

I do not know what is going on inside my head.  I do not like it.

I would appreciate commentary.  I would not appreciate advice.  Please distinguish between the two in your responses.

Thanks for listening.

Comments

[smurasaki]

Yeah, those do sound panic attack like, all right. (I've never been clear on just how bad a panic attack has to be to qualify, despite having anxiety problems that have on occasion required mediation. I should ask sometime.)

"Official" panic attacks or not, that kind of thing sucks. I've had them, along with full blown, curl up in a ball, feel like you're dying panic attacks for... oh... most of my life. But I have some manner of anxiety disorder.

Hopefully this is just a temporary thing for you.

[matt_doyle]

It helps very much to get validation that yes, these sound like panic attacks (and that yes, other people worry about the validity of their panic attacks).

[chrestomanci]

Bawling Matt this is what was happening to me from April to June this year, IT'S THE WORST. Mine wasn't exactly the same but I was consumed with the idea that I was going to die, either right now or that it could happen at any moment, and then what would happen after I was gone????? To be honest I think part of mine actually stemmed from financial security -- I no longer had finances to worry about but I was so used to worrying that I had to latch onto SOMETHING. Of course, part of my anxiety was being made worse by the fact that my heartburn/asthma was giving me the actual sensation of chest pain, in addition to my anxiety.

Anyway. I hope you can find some new coping methods again, and that you get some answers soon when you do talk to someone about it.

[matt_doyle]

Thanks.

[aphrodite_mine]

One of the worst feelings is knowing that yes, there will be help soon. You can count the days, you can count the hours, but you cannot have help now.

You cannot have knowledge now. You cannot have calm now. Yes, you will be calm soon, all will return to normal -- but now is not yours to own, to control.

Terrifying, and depressing in it's own right.

I wish you the best, sir, and lend my ear if you need to talk yourself down.

[matt_doyle]

Thank you.

[ankaret]

I hate it when anxiety takes away the time to write, as well as everything else it takes away. Much sympathy.

[matt_doyle]

Thanks.

[iridescent]

Being alive - it's scary fucking business. There have been some very wise comments already, so I shall limit myself to extending my sympathies and well-wishes. xx

[matt_doyle]

xoxox thank you.