My chicken cooks at a temperature of 360° in an extremely large pressure cooker filled with oil.
Upon releasing the lid held shut by a lever that takes a lot of physical strength and mental patience to move, a cloud of steam rises up to greet me every time. I’m usually pretty good at moving my arm out of the way before the pipping hot cloud meets my arm, but I wasn’t Sunday. As a result I’ve given myself the worst and largest burn I’ve ever had, and due to the lingering pain from it I’ve inadvertently triggered my health anxiety to exist on another level.
My heart flutters and any internal spikes of “…wtf is that?” are being paid attention to more since my system is having the nearly constant observance of pain, causing my anxiety to go into overdrive with the intrusive thoughts thrown at me.
“…is this it? Is this the moment everything dims and the cancer wins?”
Over and over for the past three days these questions have popped into my head and fed a racing heartbeat that my mind tries to convince me is the beginning of the end. My vision that can’t afford to be diminished becomes affected. My breathing. My ability to form intelligible sentences. My balance. It’s all attacked due to the anxiety that may be silenced here and there, but it wastes no time in coming right back to the surface the second something triggers it. It’s a viscous and internally draining cycle that I haven’t been able to break this time as my wound takes its sweet time to heal, something I know is required.
And today I get the pleasure of going back to the setting that it occurred in. The same heat waiting for me, as well as the intrusive thoughts that squirm their way back in as I do prepping tasks that at this point require no mental attention as my body goes through robotic motions to complete them. Stress levels will be higher given the approaching holiday, which can greatly hinder the fortitude of the shield that’s needed during this battle, and I can already feel the imaginary lump in my throat trying to obstruct the deep breathing I’ll need to get through the next several days.
This is what it’s like to live…and sometimes feel like you’re slowly dying…from health anxiety. This is when you learn to muster the strength you have to wear a mask very well for not only appearances, but in an attempt to convince yourself you’re okay when you’re hit with the constant reminder that you’re not. …and it’s the hardest, most excruciating, most brutally draining battle I’ve ever encountered. It’s not like the hell that depression is where you care about nothing. It’s the opposite to where you care too much about every what if in existence. I have to pretend that it’s just another day filled with sunshine and rainbows though to just be able to keep going. …I don’t know if that’s actually strength, or sheer stupidity. At this point I’m too tired to know.
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My heart flutters and any internal spikes of “…wtf is that?” are being paid attention to more since my system is having the nearly constant observance of pain, causing my anxiety to go into overdrive with the intrusive thoughts thrown at me.
“…is this it? Is this the moment everything dims and the cancer wins?”
Over and over for the past three days these questions have popped into my head and fed a racing heartbeat that my mind tries to convince me is the beginning of the end. My vision that can’t afford to be diminished becomes affected. My breathing. My ability to form intelligible sentences. My balance. It’s all attacked due to the anxiety that may be silenced here and there, but it wastes no time in coming right back to the surface the second something triggers it. It’s a viscous and internally draining cycle that I haven’t been able to break this time as my wound takes its sweet time to heal, something I know is required.
And today I get the pleasure of going back to the setting that it occurred in. The same heat waiting for me, as well as the intrusive thoughts that squirm their way back in as I do prepping tasks that at this point require no mental attention as my body goes through robotic motions to complete them. Stress levels will be higher given the approaching holiday, which can greatly hinder the fortitude of the shield that’s needed during this battle, and I can already feel the imaginary lump in my throat trying to obstruct the deep breathing I’ll need to get through the next several days.
This is what it’s like to live…and sometimes feel like you’re slowly dying…from health anxiety. This is when you learn to muster the strength you have to wear a mask very well for not only appearances, but in an attempt to convince yourself you’re okay when you’re hit with the constant reminder that you’re not. …and it’s the hardest, most excruciating, most brutally draining battle I’ve ever encountered. It’s not like the hell that depression is where you care about nothing. It’s the opposite to where you care too much about every what if in existence. I have to pretend that it’s just another day filled with sunshine and rainbows though to just be able to keep going. …I don’t know if that’s actually strength, or sheer stupidity. At this point I’m too tired to know.
46-50, F
