Little anxieties

I've been to a psychiatrist once in my life.  It was about two years ago when I was on Accutane. After seeing a barrage of commercials which linked Accutane use to potential increase in suicide risk, John wanted me to see somebody. In retrospect, it would be humorous if those Accutane/suicide link commercials were something created by the pharmaceuticial makers and American Psychiatry Association---some kind of conspiracy to further increase the amount of Americans on meds.

The psychiatrist... His dark-framed glasses and sweater stand out in my memory; I can't recall if the sweater featured elbow patches, but I wouldn't doubt it. At the end of the session, during which I cried profusely in regard to hatred toward my mother, he gave me a prescription---for another therapist. He concluded that I did not need to be medicated but that, indeed, I definitely would benefit from talking my problems out with someone.

I still have the prescription on my fridge, just because I thought it was hilarious---getting a prescription to see someone else.

Anxiety. Although my constantly low blood pressure might make it seem like I have little anxiety, that's absolutely false. I just try to avoid situations where I know I will be anxious (rush hour traffic, "peak" times at stores and shopping centers, communicating with my mother, etc).

When I feel anxious, there are a few common reactions: crying hysterically and biting my nails.

We're having the New Year's party on Saturday and I am definitely feeling stressed. I've been trying to clean the rooms of the house, all of which contains pile of MY stuff. I found some items that could be classified as "historic": my 2004 teacher ID card, an ice cream store gift certificate from 2007 (I WILL be going and checking the gift card's validity sometime soon), souvenirs that I bought for friends on my 2006 trip to Montana, and so on.

Most of all, I found tons of photo frames, about a dozen--all unfilled. I filled the frames and then felt anxiety about displaying them and hanging them up. This is a commonality with me--I have this odd anxiety about hanging stuff up on the wall. I guess it comes down to not wanting to hang something in the wrong spot and then leave a hole behind. So, in other words, I am fucking crazy:)

I did hang up a few things, include the custom-made watercolor painting of the Flash (comic hero, not our former cat) that John had his friend make.

And I didn't hysterically cry or bite my nails while hanging things up...Anxiety over hanging things up---seems ridiculously lame when I read over my typed words...

Progress. Progress.....