Crazy Train

For a long time, I have struggled with anxiety. I worry about a lot of stuff. To be fair, there's a lot in my life to worry about, what with three kids (one of whom has a diagnosis of depression), shaky finances and a social handicap that makes Rain Man appear a gracious raconteur. No wonder I have an issue with anxiety.

Except that's not what I obsess about. If I was up at night, wondering how we were going to pay the electric bill, that would make sense. But I lay awake, haunted by the feeling that the five-year-old has decided to go for a midnight stroll down the block. I lose huge blocks of my day to the fear that my daughter will fall in the field at recess and no one will know where she is, while she lies in the grass bleeding from her head. I breathe a sigh of relief when my husband walks in the door, because that fatal car wreck I envisioned never happened.

It's a party to be me. I'm amazed I don't drink more.

Why do I worry about ridiculous, fantastical scenarios when there is real-life drama for me to get an ulcer over? More to the point, why do I let the groundless fear impair my ability to do something about the real worries that could be addressed and mitigated? I don't know. I guess that's why it's called mental illness. It's sick and mental and weird as shit. My doctor has been juggling my medication around, trying to find something that will let me sleep at night without releasing my inner-zombie. A lot of the stuff on the market gives me crippling headaches, so I've started looking at non-pharmaceutical options. Yoga, B-12, church, meditation. Stuff that is cheap, easy and won't send me to rehab or AA.

In related news, my doctor claims wine is not an effective cure for anxiety. Whatever. I told her they used to think leeches were the cure for everything and do you know what she said?

"Actually, leeches are still considered a viable treatment for some injuries."

Holy shit, I have new material for my nightly circus o' crazy.