Panic attacks have started happening more frequently, and it is the worst thing that happens to me. Walking into school my mind goes into panic mode, I’ve started talking to the school nurse, but I lie telling her that I’m getting better when I’m actually getting a lot worse. The worst thing about everything is pretending to be alright. I know people want to help me, my parents want to help me; but nothing they say can help me very much. Getting asked everyday by my mother how my day went, is horrible. I lie, is that bad, is it bad that I feel the need to lie to my mother, father, friends and the school nurse? It probably is, but I know I need help, but everything everyone says, makes it feel like they are just trying to brush it off; like it’s nothing, like it’s not a problem at all.
What they doesn’t realize is that it’s the biggest form of problem I face every single day. They know I’m scared to leave the house, just this saturday my life became a living hell again, after having two good days. My definition of a living hell, is probably very different from yours, but it’s my living hell. What can I say, I feel pathetic telling you this, but I probably am. I always tell people I’m fine, but I’m slowly dying inside, just fading away. Waiting for the day that I just can’t get out of bed, because my mind is so god damn complicated.
People doesn’t understand my anxiety, it’s so bad that I can not talk to people I don’t know, I can’t be in crowded places. Sitting in the classroom is the worst thing in the world for me. Just walking into school today, twenty minutes before my first class; I had a major panic attack while walking up the stairs to the third floor, to have my sociology class. I had a german presentation yesterday, I was talking about myself, but I think I fucked it up. I am deadly afraid of getting bad grades, I’m deadly afraid of being alone, I’m deadly afraid of being told that my problems aren’t as bad as they seem, by someone who doesn’t know what they are talking about.
My mother told me to stop overreacting a few days ago, I’ve NEVER overreacted when it comes to my anxiety, or my paranoia. I can take everything else, but not my own mother telling me to stop overreacting while I’m silently having a panic attack. They don’t know shit about me, they think they do, but they don’t. My parents may have raised me, but they doesn’t understand shit about me, they don’t want to. Which makes me very disappointed, they tell themselves that I am fine, just so that they can sleep at night. That is just how it fucking is.