The Monster

A lot of my follow NaNoWriMos are feeling anxious too as they prepare their manuscripts. About two weeks ago, I was lying on the bathroom floor crying for help because the room would not stop spinning. I thoroughly believe it was an anxiety attack, as I’ve been diagnosed with anxiety a while back myself. Thank you for being so frank and open, though I realize how gad anxiety is to talk about.

Miss Four Eyes

It’s bright and sunny outside, and a hurricane of anxiety has hit my brain with some mild chances of hysteria. My head feels like someone’s got a blender up there and is whipping up some brain smoothie. Not fun.

Brain Smoothie

I want to tell you that I’m handling it, that I’ve been calm and composed and haven’t let the anxiety monster drag me down to his dark lair. I want to say that I used ancient Asian meditation techniques to remain zen. But in all honesty, I feel like ripping my hair out and crying my eyes out on my bathroom floor.

The anxiety is pushing me down to that pit I know so well, but I’m hanging on to the edge with my pinky fingers. That’s the truth. What I want is to climb out and run far, far away from it. What seems so much easier to do is…

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