The fact that I have been suffering from severe bouts of panic and anxiety attacks is well documented in the annals of this blog. A corollary of the aforementioned mental disorders is me having to struggle with mild clinical depression and an anticipatory fear of being humiliated in public if another panic episode strikes (There's really no way of telling when or where my panic attacks would strike. As a matter of fact, this morning, while I was masturbating after taking a poop, my heart started pounding, I began sweating profusely and flipped the fuck out with fear. So I ran out of the bathroom, slipped into my clothes and left for work. So yeah, I apologize to my officemates if I stink worse today than usual. I forgot to wash after taking a poop, stop being such a squeamish vagina already, Geezus.)
Anyway, I could go into a long, emotional tirade about how having these mental disorders is debilitating and how it seriously impedes how I function daily but seeing that I can only dream to have the eloquence my fellow nutcases over at the Anxiety Disorders Association of America possess, I'll let them do the talking:
I've pretty much kept my anxiety at bay with short therapy sessions, prescription drugs such as benzodiazepines, anxiolytics and anti-depressants as well as not-so-prescription substances such as valium, methamphetamines, turpentine, and cocaine. But let's not talk about that. (Or let's forget I said that entirely because really, I'm seriously suspecting that my bosses read this blog and it's not like you guys are going to support nor comfort me when I start sucking dicks inside dark movie houses in exchange for coins)
Also, I've eschewed a full therapy program and settled for short consultations with a psychiartist mainly because the 9 month therapy program is an utter waste of time and money. Imagine:
Session 1:
Shrink (Who's incredibly HOT, but that's for an entirely new post): Hi, how can I help you?
Me: I think im suffering from panic attacks.
Shrink: hmmm. Do you have any vices? Do you drink? Do you smoke?
Me: I smoke and I also–
Shrink: There's your problem. Quit smoking. [writing prescription] and take two of these ridiculously over-priced pills everyday.
Session 2:
Shrink: How have you been?
Me: Doc, I don't think the pills are working, and I think I've gotten worse. This morning, I tried to rip off my left arm and wanted to smash my car's windshield with it.
Shrink: That's because you can't quit smoking. [writes prescription] Continue taking these ridiculously expensive drugs, and because I don't like you, take three of them everyday.
Session 3:
Shrink: How have you been?
Me: Whenever I watch TV and see people kissing or hugging, I feel the urge to cry. Is this normal?
Shrink: That's because you can't quit smoking. [writes prescription] Continue taking these ridiculously expensive drugs. Oh and get an even more expensive thyroid scan. Bye, see you next week.
Session 4:
Shrink: How have you been?
Me: I tried to kill myself by popping 20 of the pills you prescribed. Didn't work, I just fell asleep. When I woke up, I punched my mother in the face for no reason. She cried. What now?
Shrink: That's because you can't quit smoking. [writes prescription] Try this extended release anti-depressant. I heard it works better. I also heard it's more expensive.
Session 5:
Shrink: How have you been?
Me: I just lost 20 thousand pesos in a card game. I got really pissed so I burned our kitchen down and drove my car off a bridge. Also, you're the worst shrink ever and If you weren't so hot and if I didn't have fantasies involving me fingerblasting the fuck out of you and doing you from behind, I would stop seeing you.
Shrink: That's because you can't quit smoking. Oh and please don't stop seeing me, I'm making a fortune out of you.
What a fucking waste of time. However, I intend to see my regular shrink again because recently, I've added a new animal in my menagerie of wonderful mental disorders. Ladies and gentlemen, Mike Villar is now also an agoraphobic. Now, don't expect me to explain to you what agoraphobia is because first, I'm not a doctor and second, you're not paying me to do this shit.
Anyway:
Agoraphobia is an anxiety disorder which primarily consists of the fear of experiencing a difficult or embarrassing situation from which the sufferer cannot escape.
Agoraphobics may experience severe panic attacks in situations where they feel trapped, insecure, out of control, or too far from their personal comfort zone. In severe cases, an agoraphobic may be confined not only to their home, but to one or two rooms, and they may even become bed-bound, or a recluse.
Agoraphobics are often extremely sensitized to their own bodily sensations, subconsciously over-reacting to perfectly normal events. For example, the exertion involved in climbing a flight of stairs may trigger a full-blown panic attack, because it increases the heartbeat and breathing rate, which the agoraphobic interprets as the start of a panic attack instead of a normal fluctuation.
Basically, I'm afraid to step out of my comfort zones too long. My comfort zones being home and the office I work at (Thank god my anxiety disorder is okay with the office. Otherwise, I'd be fired and how am I going to sustain all my expensive addictions then if ever?). I really have no problems when I'm at home nor do I have problems when I'm at work. Actually, I think this makes me more focused on my job to the point that I'm obsessive-compulsive and totally anal with the quality of my work output.
I cannot, however, drive (I'm scared for some reason) and I have to have somebody drive me to and from work. I also can't go to crowded places because I fear that I might suffer another panic episode, flip the fuck out and do something that I will end up in jail for.
I can only see two reasons why all of this is happening to me. The first being that I haven't been touched (unless it's accidental) by a female ever since my fiancee left the country over a month ago, and masturbation can only get me so far really. The second I think is because I'm an artist(Please, just play along, I'm sick), and all great minds go through this shit at least once in their lives. Think Jeff Buckley. Think Nick Drake. Think Daniel Johns.
So, it's back to full therapy for me people. But for the meantime, I would appreciate any good vibes you can send my way. (And by good vibes I mean contact numbers of drug pushers who sell cheap anti-depressants or illegal drugs from the trunk of their cars.)
That is all. Thanks.
Mike "Fucking" Villar
"a Manila-based blogger made famous by his Atrocities of Friendster series, a regular feature he publishes on his blog where he mercilessly criticizes and mocks pictures of ugly people he stumbles upon on popular social networking site, Friendster. Although a lot of people are offended by what he writes, long-time readers of his blog regard him as a brilliant satire writer."
-Taken from my WikiBios page
