I so want to return to that guy who uses the word “snazzy” like 100 times a day because I absolutely mean and feel it.
I want to stop being constantly afraid and tired.
Thankfully, I’ve been having a greater mix of good days — or good periods of okay days than bad experiences of sucky days. But the bad is oh so bad.
I just went home to rest from what I would classify as my worst 36 hours since I emerged from a near constant state of Depression and Anxiety that felt like it ended around the end of June this year.
I know the struggle continues. I know I am getting better at the struggle. And I know the bad times will still hit me … sometimes completely out of the blue.
Like what just happened.
I came home to take a nap. I could barely keep my eyes open. I could barely stand. And, I was basically having an okay day after having one whopper of a terrible day. But the fatigue of going through a harsh sense of reality handed to me (appropriately) by my therapist, really threw me for a loop of grief, sadness, and pain.
The processing was incredibly painful, almost immediately exhausting, and as soon as I could allow it, sleep-inducing.
So last night, I slept for hours. Then, I started my next day (today) more tired than I ended the last.
Still, I had a pretty good day … okay half a day. And then, energy-drained, I went home for a nap. A nap that will likely precede going to be early for the night … like going to bed at 5 or 6 pm, because this has been really traumatic.
So I napped.
Now, I should admit, I really, really love nightmares. I also get a huge adrenaline rush when the nightmares are highly personal and pretty violent … and I die from the violence.
Don’t fret world. This is nothing that has ever meant anything other than, I’m weird. I actually wake up laughing from those dreams … like I’ve just watched a great horror / thriller flick. It says nothing about perverse real life tendencies. I’m a pretty peaceful guy. I just get a rush out of these types of dreams.
That above paragraph is really just an aside. Because I just awoke from a half-consciousness hour filled with several mini-nightmares. The nightmares were not violent. They were not the ones I enjoy in the least. And they scared the bejesus out of me!
They were too real. They were about me and my body seeming to publicly fall apart because of the Anxiety that really haunts me. And I don’t mean fall apart in some grotesque violent way. I mean fall apart in the sense that my eyes fail to open out of sheer fatigue. That my voice cracks because my throat muscles are so tight from Anxiety giving the impression that I am choking. That I am surrounded by others as this is happening. And true to life, everyone fails to see that anything is different, that anything is happening to Michael.
People surround me saying things like: “He’s okay.”
“He’s that guy that loves to cheerlead even though he’s over 40.”
“He’s that guy that says and means ‘snazzy’ all the time.”
“He’s that guy that is hopeful and optimistic …. like always.”
“When he advocates for $100 million, he actually and completely believes he can get $100 million.”
“When he trains for whatever he’s training for — a marathon, a weird yoga pose, or some professional endeavor — he commits and believes he can.”
Close scene. Stop nightmares. What these people around me were saying as my body fell into dysfunction … well, what they were saying is actually how I often feel.
I love to cheerlead — verbally and physically. I love to say snazzy and mean it. I am often the most optimistic and hopeful person — about public things — even when I am personally depressed and anxious.
This hour-long, half-conscious set of nightmares simply showed me how incredibly complicated and pain-filled and fatigued I am.
Meanwhile … I can’t wait until the full return of Snazzy. I really like Snazzy-Michael.