12/3/13: In Which Anxiety and Other Things Keep Me Awake

Do I normally capitalize every word of my post titles? I can never remember. Oh well. 

Lately I've been sleeping very poorly, and also suffering from a seemingly sourceless bout of anxiety. I guess I get this feeling every now and then, like an under-utilization of my skills is creeping up to strangle my brain at night, but it's unfortunately accompanied by a complete inability to focus on anything for very long and an intense displeasure with anything I do manage to get done. The result of all this is that I'm not sleeping and I'm hating myself for not getting anything done while I'm not sleeping. My current pet theory is that this is just the latest manifestation of my seasonal depression, which seems to be rearing its ugly head this year despite regular ingestion of vitamin D, which I'd hoped would help keep it at bay. 

I'm also getting paranoid again. This has been building for a while, but until the last week or so it had been stuff I was used to: feeling like someone is following me, a compulsion to make mental notes of exits and escape routes, developing combat strategies in unnecessary situations, that sort of thing. I've been dealing with those with varying degrees of success for years now. What's new are the delusions. I'm hoping they're just a byproduct of wracking up a bit of a sleep debt, because I'm starting to notice that my reflection is staring at me. Let me explain. 

In my bathroom, if I don't shut the door completely it has a tendency to swing open. If I'm just brushing my teeth or washing my hands or what have you, I don't tend to make sure the door is shut. There is a mirror on the outside of the door. When it's open, that mirror reflects the one over the sink over my shoulder, so I see my own face behind me. Sometimes, that face looks at me when I'm not looking at it. I know it's not real, it's just my mind playing tricks, but I see what I see and it's starting to disturb me more. 

I'm angry with myself. That's probably another part of all the mental nonsense. I'm pissed off that I can't finish anything. That I call myself a writer when I don't feel I deserve that title. That I call myself an actor when I'm afraid to audition. That I should really be in therapy or maybe even medicated but I'm too timid or proud or both to reach out and find help for myself. I have so many supportive people around me, and I feel I don't deserve any of them. I take too much and I give back so little. I hate myself.