Rock bottom?

So this is what it feels like to be angry with the world. Anger is not an emotion I feel terribly often, but I'm feeling it now.

Since this is a public blog, I can't go into too much detail. But I'm uncertain of what the next few weeks are going to bring. I still don't think I'm where I need to be in terms of my health (mental, physical, emotional, all of it). So I'm not sure I'm ready to resume normal life. But I suppose that's neither here nor there, considering I might not have a job to which I can return. Once again, circumstances have shat upon me, and I'll probably lose the one thing in my life I actually felt confident about more than 50% of the time. But that's how it always works for me. I can't have anything good for too long. Fate just doesn't allow it.

I have a hypnotherapy appointment on Thursday so I can start to conquer my subconscious issue with driving. You know, provided I can get there. I tried to drive yesterday, and I made it one way, then started to have a panic attack in Target, so my mother had to drive home. I'm going to venture out to put gas in the car tomorrow and see how I do, but I have a feeling I'll be asking my grandparents to give me a ride to my appointment. After this weekend, though, I'm out of luck. My mother's schedule doesn't allow for her to help me out, and my grandparents are going to stay with my aunt. If I go back to work on Sunday like I was planning, I'm just going to have to...struggle, I guess.

This is bordering on agoraphobia. I'm not afraid of driving. I'm not afraid of leaving the house. I like going places and doing stuff. Honestly. And I've been going nuts not being able to. This is not a conscious thing. My body has a negative reaction to it and I do not know why. I've been on the Zoloft for three weeks as of today, but I've only been at a therapeutic dose (50mg) for a week. So I'm not at the point where I can expect to wake up tomorrow morning and realize everything's fine. It'll be a couple more weeks, and probably another dosage increase. And this week has been even worse because my anxiety skyrockets when I'm on my period.

My mother's lack of understanding is frustrating. She didn't get it before and I don't expect her to get it now. But she still doesn't quite grasp that I don't really get it either, and if I did, I'd take care of it. If I knew why this was happening, I'd be able to solve the problem. But I don't. She made a comment the other day about not being able to do what she needed to while we were out because I was having a panic attack, and it pissed me off. I wanted to say, "I'm sorry this is inconvenient for YOU. I'm the one who has lost all my freedom, my sanity, my friends, maybe my job... So you'll have to excuse me if my heart doesn't bleed for YOU."

And this work stress, and spending every day on the phone with the insurance company... Not exactly conducive to the healing of someone with an anxiety issue.

Still lonely. Even more frustrated that my problems seem to be unacceptable to some people. I thought I was connecting with someone from a dating site, then once I talked about my anxiety, they stopped replying to my messages. It's always been so easy to say, "Well, if they don't like it, fuck 'em." But it's different in practice, when you have no one, think you never will have anyone, tell yourself you're being ridiculous, then find out you might've actually been right in the first place.

This isn't me. I feel like I'm being forced into a body, into a life that isn't mine. And I don't know how to get out. I do everything right, and I'm still trapped.

I can't wait to get to therapy.