I’ve written mostly about depression this week. It’s hard to write about my anxiety, especially at a time when I am at a really high level of anxiety, which I am right now.

My anxiety adds a whole other dimension to everything else I’ve written this week. Anxiety is an energy waster. I’m going to write more about energy tomorrow in The Spoon Theory, but for today, I’ll just use this analogy: Think about a big pot of water on the stove. Imagine that this is your water for the day, for cooking and cleaning and bathing. You turn on the burner when you wake up, and you leave the burner on all day. Even if you never take a drop out of that pot, at the end of the day, you will end up with less water than what you started with. That’s what chronic anxiety is like. A constant simmer of worry or dread, that is always happening in the background, wearing you down. Even if you’re not conscious of being anxious, you are still wasting energy.

Which is not to say that there is any fault or blame to be attached to a person who always has a low level of anxiety simmering away. Everybody knows what it feels like to be anxious about something; imagine if you had a feeling very similar to that, but ALL THE TIME. Trust me, if people who have chronic anxiety knew how to make it go away, we would give all our fingers and toes, and maybe even an organ or two, to do it.

So there’s this constant level of anxiety going on. Then there are the specific things / tasks / people that cause a spike in anxiety. These can be anything. For me, hearing the phone ring provokes panic. If I have to make a phone call, I will often have a panic attack. You will never know that when I call you, however, because the Mask will be firmly in place when I pick up the phone. Which will make some people sceptical that I am truly phobic of the phone. But I am, and whether they accept that or not, it’s the way it is for me.

Other things that provoke anxiety for me can include having to leave the house, thinking about having to interact with people. Or even the thought of having someone look at me. If ebay sold an invisibility cloak, I’d buy several. Sometimes it’s a clutching fear that something bad will happen to my dog, that I’ve poisoned him with the bug spray I used the other day to ward off the spider invasion, that I’ll never be well again, that I won’t have enough money to get groceries at the end of the month, that my parents will die and I’ll end up homeless and alone. Some of these fears are not rational (some are, though); knowing that they are not rational does not make them go away.

Again, in some people’s reaction to chronic anxiety, there can run a thread of “well, just get over it already!” or “that’s a silly thing to worry about, so why don’t you stop?” As I wrote above, if I could do that, I would.

I’m not going to write much more about chronic anxiety. Just imagine, if you would, how all this background static of anxiety adds to the effects of chronic depression and the side effects of the meds and the mind games we all play with ourselves about expectations and what we should be doing and accomplishing and being. And then, suddenly and often out of the blue, there is a big explosion of fear and anxiety that is right in the forefront of everything. And imagine that this happens many times a day, sometimes. It sounds debilitating, no?