Who me, worry? Fucking right, doggie.

This weekend has been one, long, nonstop anxiety inducing panic attack. It would slow at times but, still just linger in my chest. There were so many times that I even had to stop and make myself REMEMBER to breathe; and then would panic wondering “Who the fuck forgets to breathe?” and the cycle would begin again. I am the person that when I try to slow my breathing, inhale deeply and exhale slowly… I fucking panic. Why? Because what the fuck is wrong with me that I have a goddamned panic attack because I am trying to alleviate a goddamned panic attack?

Saturday morning. I had a full on, crying and screaming, shaking and in literal pain because I didn’t want to paint my formal dining room.  No, this wasn’t a “…lazy Saturday, I don’t wanna” kind of fit. This was a complete panic because I worked so hard on that room and the thought of painting it to appease buyers that may or may not be serious about purchasing our home destroys me; HOURS was the amount of time that it took my husband to calm me down and convince me that I didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to.

Yesterday, I stayed so medicated on goddamned Xanax that I slept almost all day on the couch or was in such a fog that I didn’t know what was happening. It was fucking miserable. I paced the entire house. Every room, multiple times. And I was ANGRY. So angry and I still have no clue as to why.

At some point, my husband convinced me to go with him to the store to grab a few things. Yeah, that was a mistake. I can’t count how many times that I had to stop and lean on the shopping cart to avoid my legs buckling, trying to remember to make myself breathe but, not too deeply because then I got lightheaded and thought for sure that I was going to pass out and well, that would have ended badly. Not failing to mention that continuous, never subsiding utter pain in my stomach to my chest and making my teeth throb.

This morning, I woke up at 3am, snuggled up to my husband and thought to myself that today was going to be a GOOD day for once. Then his alarm went off and reminded me that because of not being of sound mind for a majority of the last 48 hours, it was not Sunday as I thought but, rather Monday; and my husband has duty.

My motivation is nil and although my anxiety/panic has passed for now, the horrible ache in my stomach and my lungs reminds me of the physical toll that an attack like this can leave behind.

But, on a good note… I lost 6 pounds in less than 4 days.

 

 

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