Quiet Desperation... The Animal Is Sneaking Back In

I can feel it. That animal is creeping up on me. I can feel it's breath on my neck and hear it softely growling in my ear. The only thing keeping it from pouncing is having it staying in check with the Paxil. But I'm still sinking down so that all the animal has to do is nibble my fingers when they dangle... all it needs to do is draw the smallest bit of blood and make sure that it keeps that small wound open, keep it bleeding and therefore forcing the loss of blood to slowly make me sink even further from weakness. I don't think I can help it. I don't think I can make it stop. I can feel the panic trying to rise to the surface. There's just enough to feed the animal... just enough for it to feel the quiet desperation and coax it to come out. Remember, the animal doesn't need much. Just enough to survive.

There's so much to feed it. So much stress and worry and fear. Finances. Physical exhaustion. Trying to find a job to fit our schedules and pay well. Developmental problems with a child. Bullying problems with another child. Weight and image problems. Housekeeping. Daily life. The animal wants it all, to gobble it all up and simply roll over onto me, rather than pouncing. It's a sneaky little bitch, lulling me into thinking it's asleep and on a leash when really, one day I open my eyes enough to realize that I'm the one on the leash and I'm the one who's been asleep. That the animal has been biding its time and simply resting, that it's claws are still sharp and ready to hold me. On it's breath, I can smell the sourness of digested stress, worry, fear, exhaustion, obligations, appointments, illnesses, and time. Once again, I've been feeding the animal without realizing I had even been dropping small, crumbly morsels for it.

It's time to try to put the animal back in it's cage, but it's so easy to just decide to let it pounce by doing nothing at all. All I have to do is let down my guard. Ignore it. Leave it the tasty morsels of self-doubt, of fear, worry and feelings of hopelessness. Instead, I think I need to call my shrink and convince Manny that the co-pay is affordable. I need to figure this out and I need help again. Venting it all here is such therapy but clearly, it's not always enough.