I am freaking out right now…an excellent place to start: freaking out about my freakout blog.
No pressure. I just need to create THE BLOG about living with panic disorder. My mission: to bring comfort and humor to sufferers of panic all over the world and understanding from their family members, friends, and colleagues. Make panic, depression, and ordinary, garden-variety insecurity funny. No problemo. (Note to self: Start being funny now.)
I feel like I need to get my About Me, definition of freak out, and FAQs all done before I can start. You know, to set the tone.
I do this to myself all the time. It all has to be perfect and everything has to happen all at once. Before breakfast. Don’t get up from this chair young lady until you have completed everything to launch world’s greatest blog!
As if my readers were already waiting for a blog entry. Well, that’s sort of optimistic, isn’t it?
Now I’m having domain name buyer’s remorse: I wish I had a funnier concept than panic. Like wrecked cakes. I love that site. I can’t get enough of people’s dumb cakes! But I’ve got my own material: ha ha ha I can’t drive!! (Don’t. I mean don’t drive.) Anywho, panic is so potentially funny.
I do have this going for me: I am writing about something Important. It’s not just an amusing idea, not just expressing myself, but it’s for others who feel all alone. They must. That’s how I feel, lots of the time. Then I go online and I see all the $200 8-DVD sets that are supposed magically cure anxiety and I think, well, there’s at least enough of us to be exploited.
Hmm. What are funny things about panic and anxiety (and related laugh-fest, depression)?
Well, the disproportionate reactions. Funny. Especially if they’re bizarre. (Look at me freaking out over my website.) Too bad I don’t have OCD which is obviously funny. Well, “Monk” made it funny, anyway. “The defective detective.” That’s funny because it rhymes. Anyway, illogical thoughts are always funny. I am getting blown across the river in my canoe therefore I am going to DIE. Heh heh. I am not allowed to get up from my chair and eat my oatmeal until I make this funny.
That’s the sound of my husband reminding me to get out of my chair and eat breakfast. He is microwaving the oatmeal and saving me from myself. Good husband!