When my anxiety becomes too high, or my stress levels can't handle what's in front of me, I want it gone.
It came to a head last night: my first vivid nightmare in over 6 months. I shot awake with tears down my cheeks (I rarely cry). Luckily it wasn't a full blown terror.
The meaning changes from province to province, but I believe I can say with confidence that any holiday that involves a possible four (or more) day weekend, it's defined as a two-four weekend.
Any mental illness who's condition comes with a sack load of depression will tell you all the reasons why you shouldn't be on this earth. This voice is particularly the loudest on your birthday. If then the sense of the day is impersonal, echoes of worthlessness and burden follow through.
The next part I need in helping my confidence is interacting with others. I've been challenging myself to talk to five strangers daily, and it's been working. Now, I need something a bit bigger.
Once I realized what was happening, I self-sabotaged myself with humour: calling myself a doormat or someone who stood pretty strait for someone with no backbone.
If anything happens, I need to hold. I have to shut my ego up and not be so hard on myself that I’m not beating odds. They’re clearly stacked against me in a way I can’t get around.