Cue the Twenty-One Pilots Song

    I usually start thinking about an idea for my blogcast posts well in advance of me actually writing them, so that they are mostly composed before I start typing them in.  Last week, something occurred that almost derailed my plans, and I feel that I need to discuss this.  I found out about some bad news about someone I know (details not revealed to respect their privacy) from a secondhand source.  Immediately, my mind began race.  Are they okay?  Why hadn't they mentioned this before?  What should I do for them? Could this happen to me? It didn't help that I found this out just a few minutes before I was supposed to go to bed.  Fortunately, it only took me a little longer than normal to fall asleep, mostly by thinking on other topics.  It took me an entire day of struggle to come up with the right words to say before I ultimately reached out to them, mostly out of fear and embarrassment.  I'm not caught up on messaging etiquette and such that well.  I then waited another whole day or so before I read their response.  See, ever since I was a little kid, I've had problems with anxiety and panic attacks.  They may have been caused by a prank scare my great aunt and mother gave me.  I have an almost childlike innocence, or maybe naïveté would be a better word, and a strong sense of hope and wonder that leads me to see my world as a good place, if not exactly a perfect one.  Whenever something shatters this view, I can freak out.  Sometimes, I shut down entirely as my mind races to process this information, thinking and overthinking about what is happening. On the rare occasion, I take reckless actions to take control of a situation, trying to get my world back on track, as my mental energy just has to go somewhere, anywhere.  It doesn't even have to be bad news, either for me or someone else.  Positive news and even relatively neutral information can set me off.  For instance, like many other fans, I read the last "Harry Potter" novel straight through, finishing rather late at night.  I had a very hard time falling asleep, but not just because I was hyped up from reading so much.  No, I was mad, even jealous, at Harry because he got the happy ending he deserved, and my life was so miserable.  All I could think about was why couldn't I make something out of my life.  Sure, my store would have trouble not having another huge bestseller, but my anxiety was about more than that.  My life was such a lonely mess, and I couldn't help but keep thinking about everything I should have and could have done to have made it better.  I would wind up pacing to try and turn some of my excess mental energy into physical work, but it wasn't working.  I remember ultimately falling asleep, but I was still anxious the following morning.  I was worrying myself sick over this.  I frequently feel sick when I get like this.  It was well into the afternoon before I finally calmed down enough, partially assisted by my usual weekend weightlifting routine, to feel like myself again, but the thoughts hovered in the background for a few more days.  Something similar happened this past spring when I decided to drop out of my grad school class.  I freaked out about the course and flaked out on it, without even informing the rest of the class like I said I would.  I never even asked anyone if this was the right course of action until after the fact.  Many of these thoughts take over whenever I lose contact with the rest of the world, which is quite often.  I remember once, when I was in third grade or so, when school had to be let out early for a water break or something.  It was rainy, and that meant I wouldn't get to see my best friends who were in another class, that day.  The change in routine led me to be depressed for much of the afternoon at home, barely feeling anything and locked inside my own head.  I recognized that I needed to be around people to feel like myself, or just to feel.  For much of my life, I haven't been around people, though.  I always dreaded summer vacations, as this meant I would be by myself for most of three months.  I had tried to make plans upon graduating from high school to keep in touch with a few friends I felt could help me transition into college, so I could learn how to socialize and make more friends.  That didn't happen, leaving me vulnerable to my biggest attack back in 1996, indirectly the start of four years of doing almost nothing.  I've gotten a little better since then, but I still don't know how to act in a social situation.  I still haven't really made any new friends since high school.  I wish for something more.  My biggest anxieties can still pop up at any moment, and I still obsess over them, but it has gotten better.  One of the reasons I started this blog was so that I can vent my issues out, at a time when I had no one else to do so with.  The layer of anonymity I get here allows me to get personal with my problems, but it leaves some distance as well to prevent my social awkwardness from getting too great. I brought some of these fears up when I finally responded to my friend's message, and I did it at a time when I knew they were available and would see it.  Reckless, bold, and more in-character with who I was before I started having these attacks.  They responded by saying the would support me when they could, just like I had said I would support them in whatever way I could for them.  I decided to make that the subject of this post that morning.  I actually typed this days early, so I wouldn't chicken out or forget. I just did a few revisions before posting, but I still think I may have left something out.  I feel like I have a lot more to say to some people, directly, just to see how they are and remind them how much they are to me.  I get this way every year about this time, and this year I might just come through with my plans.  Thank you for listening.