When the bottom drops out

Sometimes the bottom just drops out, and I find myself sad, anxiety ridden, questioning everything in my life, and over the last few days, I've been falling down that slippery slope trying desperately to catch myself. I liken my life to this: on one end there is a large metal pole stuck firmly into the ground; wrapped around it is a large rubber band; the other end of the rubber band is around my waist, and I spend my time running, running, running, and all of a sudden the rubber band snaps me back and boom--head against that metal pole, and there I am slumped in a ball on the ground. I really do try to fight this. I am completely conscious of what happens to me, but I'm not always conscious while it's happening--if that at all makes sense. I'm not depresses so to speak, but I'm in this place that causes me to question my life and the direction it's going. I believe 100% in Socrates' comment that a life unexamined is not worth living, but I also know that I tend to go overboard. I have a tendency to cut and run. This is an easy thing for me to do, which frightens a lot of people in my life. I think they all know that at any minute I could simply say, enough is enough, I'm outa here. That's not what I'm about to do. I just need to figure out what's wrong. I think a major part of this has to do with all the changes that are taking shape this summer. I've been way too "I'll work through this!" and not enough feeling the anxiety these changes are creating in my life. Too, I'm finding that I don't recognize myself in the mirror. I awoke this morning and stared at myself, not sure who I was. That's not good. Again, I've done this before and my cures in the past have been the "cut and run" philosophy. I've been joking a lot about the age and weight thing, but it's really gotten to me. The laughing and joking about it has been a cover-up, I think. I really am freaking out over the changes in my life.
So, today, I drew a screaming person. I received in the mail two great books, True Vision: Authentic Art Journals and Art Journals and Creative Healing. In one of the books there is a screaming three year old. I really feel like that screaming three year old today! I'm desperately shouting, but nothing is coming out. Perhaps that is why earlier this month I said I had nothing to say. I think I do have something to say, it's just not rising to the surface. The screaming woman is going to become the start of today's journal. I think it will be helpful to really delve into the problem that I'm having today. Maybe, then, I can pick myself up, put some ice on that bruise caused by the smashing of my body into that very stable, well grounded metal pole, and finally take off the rubber band that keeps yanking me back to this place.