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10 Signs You May be Having a Mild Anxiety Attack

10. It feels as though there is a sumo wrestler, piggybacking Rita MacNeil, sitting on top of a pregnant elephant, standing on top of your chest. 

9. Tears well in your eyes as you stare into the fridge and realize that you’re out of Thousand Islands dressing. And you don’t even like Thousand Islands. Nor do you have a salad to apply dressing to. 

8. You’ve vacuumed all of the rugs in the house at least eight times, not because they needed to be vacuumed, but because at least when the vacuum is running, you can’t hear yourself think the same thought over and over and over again. 

7. 40 of the past 60 minutes are totally blank, but for some reason you’re sweating and you now own 4 bottles of laundry detergent and a book of stamps.  

6. Your stereo is blaring hits of the nineties because at least if your mouth is busy screaming out the words to In the Meantime, you’re not talking to yourself. 

5. You’ve made a list of everyone you can call to talk you through this anxious evening, but subsequently crumpled the list up and tossed it out because you hate talking on the phone.

4. You took two extra strength Advil followed by another two, two hours before the bottle said you could, in the hopes that Advil does something for anxiety (because they both start with the letter A, obviously). Turns out that sharing the first letter of your symptom with the first letter of your over-the-counter drug of choice means squat, so now you’re stressed and neurotic over the fact that there’s too much Advil pumping through your veins. 

3. Bits and pieces of the past few days that had absolutely nothing to do with you start playing in your head, and you’re convinced that you’ve somehow managed to singlehandedly wrong everyone who appears in these memories.

2. Sleep is the sexiest word anyone could offer up to you right at this very anxious moment. 

1. You hope that listing the nine signs above will somehow negate experiencing those same steps, but when you find out that it doesn’t and that no amount of self-depricating humour can help, you crack a bedtime beer and hope sleep comes quickly. 

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  1. cogitationstation posted this

I don’t know what’s worse – trying to pick a name for this blog, or writing the “about me” section. Both make me want to gouge my eyes out with a melon baller, but I digress. Welcome to Cogitation Station! Here I’ll be sharing my thoughts on anything and everything I find noteworthy as I ramble through the second quarter of the game of life (assuming I live to be 100, that is). I’m currently based in Toronto, my favourite colour is red, and I once almost killed half of the members of the late ‘70’s ska band, The English Beat, making an illegal right hand turn. I live dangerously.