I’m on a dark dark loop where I can’t stop feeling strong resentment towards people for having it easier than me (not some random people, but someone right in front of me, in almost the same circumstances, doing what I can’d do and having 3 times less obstacles while doing it), and then resenting myself double for feeling that kind of resentment. I shouldn’t be looking into others’plates. Even if they shove them under my nose. But damn it sucks.
It also sucks that I can’t even vent without feeling guilty about it and am back to crying in bathrooms.

Levels of mental stability on audio scale:

Single earphone in one ear -> two earphones, but taking one out occasionally -> nose-canceling headphones on -> one earphone in one ear with music in it and headphones over it with game or drama/movies in them, to be able to listen to both at the same time.

I think there’s a meme that fits this format.

I can’t even begin to tell how often I forget where I am.
When it happens during the night, when I’m reading in bed and the light from the kindle I read fanfiction on prevents me from seeing everything else in the room, I kind of love it. Because I forget which room and which bed I am in, and feel weightless.
Other times? Not so much.

among the stages of ‘reading fluffy fanfiction therapy’, there’s this very distinctive stage of ‘reading fluffy fanfiction about bookstores’.
it comes after the ‘reading flaffy fanfiction about coffee and/or writing’ and when things are pretty damn awful. 
it doesn’t even really matter what fandom it is. 
(it could be an original fiction for all I care, but people for some reason don’t publish fluffy therapeutic fiction unless it’s for children. Or at least I haven’t seen it.)

One of the worst things about lasting anxiety attacks is that they often lock you into the place/state you are in, taking away your chances to take a breath and recover.

When you’re already ‘barely hanging on’, you will always instinctively choose the path of least resistance = the path that will bring less new anxiety. Which will also meant sticking to the ‘normal’ or the ‘routine’ that brought you into the place with anxiety in the first place.

For example, if you had your anxiety attack start during the night and last almost all the way till morning, preventing you from sleeping and making you feel like shit when you’re alarm trying to get you up for work, it would be a logical decision to call in sick and rest at home for a day, or at least take first half of the day off. However, the amount of anxiety involved in ‘picking up the phone to call work and tell them that you’re not feeling well and will take a sick day’ involves 2-3 times more anxiety than ‘make yourself get up and go to work as usual (even though there are people there)’. So you get up, no matter how bad you feel. Because, chances are, the worse you feel, the less chances there are to find strength to pick up the phone.

The same happens when you’re already at work and have an attack there. On one hand, you’re clearly not well, and your body tells you that it can’t continue on, and you need to get out. On the other hand, breaking the ‘everyday normal’, getting up to explain to people that you need to go home, bringing attention to yourself by doing all that, too often feels like something that will bring more anxiety than you can already handle. So again you sit there trying to imagine which is worse.

Getting out of your anxiety attack by yourself is very difficult, because it feels like quicksand – as in any kind of struggle you imagine attempting seems like it will only suck you deeper. It feels safer to stay still where you are and save your energy. And it’s really hard to know which of the options is actually the correct one this time around.

I laugh like a maniac. Louder and longer than necessary, in many cases. And when I do I often ‘float’ outside my body, and get a little scared watching myself laugh because it feels unnatural, and like I can’t control myself, and like I try to laugh too hard because I’m either afraid I’m not doing it right or that it’s going to be the last time.

My mind is falling apart and I sort of want to write it somewhere on a wall in big red letters because, hello, cliché, and because I’m really not good at screaming.

My very sick and boiling mind graced me with a colourful (and easy to understand, I hope…. but I’ve been very wrong about ‘easy to understand’ many times before) and very stupid (I’m allowed to have as much stupid as I want this week, so if you don’t get it, stfu) metaphor to describe how I’ve been feeling. So I’m going to just dump it out here. Because I need to dump out at least something of all the things I made myself keep in.

Imagine. Something is bringing you to an orgasm. Without you having much control over it. But it’s persistent. And it brings you closer and closer, and harder and harder, and just as you think that you’re going to get your release, you realise that you are physically unable to. And won’t be able to. Never. It’s not a denial game, and there’s no one who is doing this to you, no one who is in power to have mercy. You’re alone and your own body is torturing you. And it all has nowhere to go. So it almost breaks you apart, and since there’s nowhere to go it sort of settles back down, slowly. But after it get’s low enough, it starts to build up again. And now you know how this is going to go. And you dread it.
Imagined? 
Now imagine doing all the things you do on your normal day while feeling like that. Walking, working, talking, smiling.
Good?
Now replace reaching an orgasm with wanting to shoot your own brains out. Because they are burning inside of your scalp and have nowhere to go. And there are destructive thought that attack you if you drop your guard for a second, and there’s screaming, vomit and chaos. And it’s all inside.

can’t quite decide if I want to sleep 20 hours a day or to stay up all night
I also feel like I’m starving 30 mins after I eat, and then don’t want to eat anything, but still feel like I’m starving

Fascinating.
all I can say at this point