I am coming to terms with the fact that I am legitimately crazy. Or “cray-cray” as my friend Meredith likes to say.

Yesterday I was having a mild nervous breakdown. I wasn’t sure who to call or even what to say. All they would hear on my end is WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I ended up emailing with Vid who managed to quell my anxiety momentarily but then I left work early because I needed to walk. So I walked and walked and cried and cried.

It is funny when you catch a reflection of yourself crying and you realize “Wow, I am an unattractive crier.”

And so I continued walking, trying to coach myself through this, “keep it together, keep it together, this will just pass.”

But what if this is something you say to yourself everyday and it never passes?

Or if you tell yourself, “it’s okay, I’m just pmsing” but then is it possible to be pms-ing the entire year???

I’m thinking of taking anti anxiety medicine. I always found the term “anti anxiety” hilarious because it’s as if you’re saying I am against anxiety!

So yeah I wanna be against anxiety–a formidable foe of mine for many years. And it seems I know more and more people who take anti anxiety meds. A valium here. A xanax there.

When I was younger, I had anxiety about things beyond my control like nuclear war fare (which I have now transferred into learning about non proliferation) and now I have anxiety about stupid shit. Shit that normal people can easily tackle but for me it seems like an insurmountable task.

Which explains why I’ve been waking up at 2 a.m., unable to fall back asleep. Why I have digestion issues. Why I puke when I’m nervous. Why I can’t eat indian food before hanging out with a guy. And why I’ve been drinking like a Vietnam War Vet. Actually, scratch that, I don’t drink because I have anxiety. I drink because I like beer!

Like the other week when I thought I was going to be at the same party with some dude i dated I had a mini panic attack and needed Vidya to hold my hand through it and calm me down. This is simple shit that I should be able to handle but I just…can’t. Stuff that people say “Why do you care? What’s the big deal?” But I do care. And to me it is a big deal. And I don’t know how to make the anxiety less palpable.

So I’m trying to take steps to remove myself from situations that would make me feel bad. I signed off of facebook because i didnt need constant reminders that so and so was having a party and i wasn’t invited. (Another benign thing that wouldn’t behoove most people but keeps me up at night).

I don’t know. What’s your take on anti anxiety meds? I used to scoff at mental health issues. That depression and anxiety were just products of having too much time on your hands. But there’s only so much yoga and chai tea you can do before you realize, hmmm, maybe I’m a little more unhinged than I thought.

I guess to be a legit writer you gotta have mental health issues. Sylvia Plath. Anne Sexton. Then again, Sylvia Plath stuck her head in an oven and Anne Sexton committed suicide.

I’m perfectly fine with being a fourth tier blogger.

Anyway, the past couple of posts have been really personal. I promise next week there will be stories of smoochies and making fun of the morbidly obese.

But just wanted to thank you guys for the emails and comments. Seriously, it’s like a therapy session. Hopefully not like that therapy group in jerry maguire.

Ilana sent me this CNN piece about the therapeutic benefits of blogging. Everyone should have a blog yo. It’s cheaper than therapy and prescription drugs.

Ticaaal.