One Big Bundle of Mental Illness…
I had my first real panic attack in months last night. I lay on the bed with my heart thumping in my chest uncontrollably. My vision got all squirrelly. I was scared to death. It took a complete hour for me to get over it.
I had put on my contacts for the first time in months last night. I could actually see for a change and noticed how dirty my floors were. I got in this cleaning frenzy, doing laundry, vacuuming floors, polishing furniture. Suddenly, the room started to spin. “Oh, my God, NO!” I thought in a panic. I guess I just tried to do too much. This completely dashed my hopes of returning to work. How can I not clean my own home and hope to work an eight hour job filled with social and work stress? I wanted to cry and I did after dad left last night from seeing me.
“How was you day?” dad asked me last night during Maggie’s food ritual.
“I’ve had a bad one,” I told him. “I had a panic attack.”
No consolation. Nothing. He was only concerned about feeding Maggie. I have never felt so alone in all my thirty seven years on this Earth. I realized the only people I had to turn to were the people on my blog and I still hesitated to write this.
I finally went to bed very early at nine thirty and slept until four thirty this morning. At least, my sleeping habits have somewhat normalized. I am sleeping more hours at a time for a change. This morning I still feel shaky though. I thought of pacing the floor for hours hoping that would chase away the blues. I couldn’t do it, though. I have this supreme feeling of restlessness with no outlet. Here’s to hoping the day gets better as it progresses. I certainly don’t want those panic attacks to return in force. It would be one of the most devastating things to happen to me in years of recovery.