Mega anxiety attack on NYC public transit
This is rare, but i’m typing this on my phone from the J train to Manhattan which takes about 40 minutes from JFK to Delancy Essex. This is a little behind the scenes but I am typing this to muscle my way through a fucking defcon 5 anxiety attack. I cannot miss the outpatient group I have at 5, it’ll make me feel so much better to see familiar people who care about me after an admittedly rough 2 weeks since moving to queens. Did I want to get in a jam packed Q6 bus to start my journey back to Alphabet City while having what feels like a bad acid freakout? No, sir, that was quite unpleasant.
Do you know why I wrote a blog post about being an ill motherfucker? Not because i’m bragging, but because I have little pockets where existence scares the ever living fuck out of me. Its like a little pep talk. I guess i’m weird, I have my little pep talks on public forums. Sometimes even from the J train.
You know what it is, that favorite therapist buzz word, “coping skills”.
Coping skills, live from above bed stuy on the fast moving j train with uniquely New York weirdos coming through the doors between cars, acting like only New York mental cases act. Better them than me. On the scale of looking like im holding it together in sunglasses and a fendi scarf to publically freaking out with pants pissed on the subway I ain’t doing too bad.
I feel like Bill Murray’s character in the movie “what about bob”, he’s afraid of everything so he just mutters “baby steps” to himself . I do that and kind of laugh.
Motherfucker, baby steps, coping skills and challenging cognitive distortions. Of course there isn’t a neon sign on me telling everyone i’m mortified of everything, it just feels like it. Of course i’m not the only human who didn’t get instructions on how to exist inside of a personality in a human form. You gotta talk yourself out of these bat shit, false beliefs, before you ride them into disaster.
I’m probably going to be late, but I don’t care, man. I’d have rather hid under my covers, plus it’s colder than a witches tit outside. I didn’t hide, baby steps. Next stop delancy Essex.
