There are papers scattered on my coffee table. More on the dining room table. The dishes in the dishwasher need to be put away. The laundry from last week needs to be put away, too. That is, before I start doing this week’s laundry.
I need to clean. I need to do the laundry. I need to put the dishes away. I have homework to do. A project to work on. Groceries to buy.
It’s too much. My chest is tight. My heart is racing. I feel like I can’t breathe.
This hasn’t happened in a while. I don’t mean the mess, but I mean my anxiety. I’ve been feeling so much better lately. I’ve stayed focused on what’s important. I haven’t been letting the little things get to me.
But as I sit on my couch, typing this, I stare at the papers on the table, and I can’t bring myself to get up and move them. It’s as if once I start cleaning, even just a little, I won’t be able to stop. But it’s late. It’s 10:35pm. Too late to start cleaning my whole house. But my other option is to stew. To worry about how much I have to do tomorrow.
Why is this hitting me now? Is it because the holidays are coming up? Because the dosage of my medication got cut in half? I think it’s more the holidays than it is the meds. Or maybe the higher dosage was doing more than I thought it was. I thought I was in control, but maybe I wasn’t.