Hey, Doc.
Its 8.20p on Saturday, and it has been one hell of a
day... I'm still not stable, though my hands have stopped shaking. Do I
start at the beginning or the most interesting?
Woke at about 1am
to a strange dream then couldn't get back to sleep. Alarm went off at
5a and I scrambled to get ready for early morning service, only to
remember that on Saturday's it starts at 7a, not 6a. Next I had a woman
who sucks at planning make the reception after a memorial way more
complicated for me than it needed to be. The reception was a blast...
guess who had a panic attack? Yep! This girl. OH!! And guess who's meds
aren't strong enough? Yep, me again. You're so good at this game, Doc.
But
wait there's more! There was a second gathering this evening. I went
from a panic attack that lasted, in varying degrees, about an hour and a
half. I had enough time to go home, shower, make coffee, then leave for
the next one. I couldn't eat anything beyond a small piece of chicken
and a small salad.
Right now I am fighting the overwhelming urge
to scream. This day has exhausted the hell out of me. And I get to
start it over again tomorrow? Tired, edgy, and a headache from crying
all day. I hate these damned attacks. I WANT MY LIFE BACK! I want it
back...
I tried breathing, over thinking items (that actually
helped some). I now know that the grip on my Bubba mug has ten dots down
and 14 around.
Is this what the rest of my life is going to be?
Am I going to have to remember all this forever, all these little
tricks? I don't want to live this way, this isn't living... its just
converting oxygen and nitrogen into carbon dioxide. I scheduled an extra
appt this week. I know I need it, though I hope you don't mind.
See you Tuesday...
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