I’m having one of those days again.  You know, those days where you feel like all your nerves are beeping and buzzing  and flashing the red DANGER sign.    I deliberately stayed home from work today because I felt like sleeping in (and honestly, I wasn’t feeling well–I think I’m coming down with a cold, the flu, or maybe Ebola).  But once I got over the anxiety-inducing hurdle of actually calling work,  I curled back into my nice warm bed, expecting to drift into pleasant dreams, but instead  I couldn’t go back to sleep!   This happens A LOT when I try to relax:  my mind starts racing and my heart begins to palpitate, while all my morbid, negative thoughts of unnamed disaster start to overtake my brain.   This always happens, especially  when I’m trying to relax.

When I was young I never had this problem.  The 20-something version of myself could languish in bed until 2 PM or even later, with nary a sense of guilt or anxiety.  I would drift into the most incredible, lucid-like dreams like someone on a mushroom high.  I woke up ready to take on the world.  But things have changed.  As I’ve grown older, my attempts to sleep in just make me feel like I deserve to be punished and my body responds in kind.   What’s up with that?

So I finally gave up trying to get back to sleep.  I untangled my legs from under the covers, stood on the cold floor and walked to the kitchen where I made a strong pot of my favorite hazelnut coffee (I’m weird–coffee sometimes makes me sleepy) with cream and no sugar, put on some socks and opened my laptop.   I read some blogs and blogged a little myself, but the nervousness was still there.

Around 11:30, I could no longer stand laying around in the clothes I sleep in (last night it was a tee shirt with threadbare drawstring pajama pants with Lucky Charms logos and leprechauns all over them) and got dressed in real clothes.    But I still feel that unnamed sense of dread.    My palms feel sweaty and my heart is in my throat.    Should I go for a drive?  Mow the grass (which is still overgrown and weedy looking even though it’s been cold)?   Read a good novel?  Cook something scrumptious that involves plenty of chocolate and butter?  Arrange all my books in order by color to make my bookshelves look like a rainbow?   I just don’t know.    Now I wish I went to work today.   I don’t know why I take these “mental health days” when I always wind up feeling guilty for doing so and crazier than if I’d just gone to my crummy job.

The crazy outfit I slept in last night.  Maybe going to dreamland with kittens and leprechauns is the stuff of nightmares. 

Am I the only one?  Do any of you suffer anxiety and guilt when you take a day off from work when you’re not really sick?  What do you do to combat your nerves?