It’s Wednesday, and to say this week has been a struggle, would be a huge understatement. Although today is the first day since Saturday that I haven’t cried…but I usually cry while writing. So here, goes nothing.
I don’t know if it’s been the time change, the full moon, the snow…but I haven’t been myself. I’ve been fighting extra hard every day for the last 2 weeks. I’ve lost part of my confidence. I’ve been having trouble believing in myself. I’ve felt defeated, discouraged and alone. My brain has been telling me that I’m not good enough. What I’m doing is not good enough. I’ve caught myself in this negative downward spiral of negative self-talk. But a huge positive part of that is that I recognized it and allowed myself to feel it without hating on myself.
Panic attacks are not fun. I had two on Monday, and one yesterday. The overwhelming sense of doom lingering over my head, my heart starts racing, my palms are sweating. I’m shaking and can’t control it. And then the tears…ohhhh the tears. Now insert hyperventilating. I’m going to try and paint a picture of it for you now. I’m sitting on my bed, with my hands-on top of my thighs, and I can feel my palms getting sweaty through my leggings. I start rocking back and forth, back and forth…next come the tears. I swear I could hear my heart beating as it got faster and faster. It feels like the walls are closing in on me and like it’s a million degrees. Instant panic. I didn’t feel safe (even though I was). Here we go…full blown panic attack. (I also ran out of Kleenex, so I went searching for a new box, with tears streaming down my face, desperately trying not to wake anyone up). I don’t know if I will ever stop crying, if I will ever calm down (it may sound silly but those were the thoughts running through my head). Crying, tiptoeing around, trying to catch my breath. I just wanted it to be over. I’ve gone through many of these before and made it out. I needed to concentrate on something else. I reached for my headphones and iPod. I needed a song that I knew all the words to, so I could concentrate on singing and calm myself down. Okay, headphones in…next, medication. Found it, took it. Okay, I’m not shaking as much now. The tears are still flowing, and I can no longer breathe out of my nose but I’m feeling better. I know I’m getting through it, just like all the other times. No matter what my anxiety tells me. I can beat it. I can win. It took awhile but I vaguely remember falling asleep curled up in a ball, with the occasional tear falling, humming away to whatever song was playing. It was over, I made it out.
I had two of those on the same day. One Monday morning, one Monday night. When I woke up Tuesday morning, it was rough to look in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy. I needed water ASAP. And every inch on my body ached.
Here I am, Wednesday night. No tears, but still exhausted. Exhausted because I fought my anxiety and conquered it.
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