Getting over it

My head is throbbing because I'm winding down from a full scale panic attack. It's been a long time since I've had one of these. I've had my moments of anxiety, even pretty severe anxiety, but panic attack takes anxiety to the next level. It feels like you're dying, and you wish you would. I hate losing my sense of proportion like that. I should be grateful, and I guess I am on some level, that it's been so long since I had a bad attack, but I'm just too near to the experience to feel real thanks for the time span since my mind and body last conspired against me.

I still feel like my hands are shaking. My rings have twisted themselves around backwards and slid up towards my first knuckle. My scalp is soaked with sweat and despite the cold weather outside and keeping my thermostat in the low sixties, I'm still burning up. When I took my trusty, good old reliable xanax, I remembered that I hadn't taken my other medicines for the day and popped those as well. I'm just hoping the diuretics kick in before I feel the need to take a nap.

I've been proud of myself over the last few months. I've felt that I've handled the challenges of separating from my husband, the diet and some significant job stress very well. I've enjoyed feeling my strength and speaking my mind more often. I think this reminder of my vulnerability is hitting me harder than usual for those very reasons.

My car is giving me fits, trying to overheat again. It's thrown steam twice today I've gotten more comfortable fiddling around under the hood, not enough to do any significant repairs, but minor tweaks and holding a competent discussion with my mechanic are in my skills. I've pretty much eliminated it being the thermostat or radiator and think that I need a new water pump and some hoses. This is definitely beyond my ability.

My latest project at work developed a major setback today. My boss keeps repeating how she wants staff who live, eat, sleep and breathe their jobs, and well, I don't. I admire her passion, conviction and sense of mission, but I just don't feel it myself.

The mother-in-law got sick of her son a little over a week ago, and he's been staying here. I can't say we're back together, but he's around. I'm just not hard nosed enough to make him sleep in his truck, especially in 20 some odd degree weather. For the most part, it's civil, but I can't say it's pleasant.

So, I'm feeling the stress, and my reaction just went a little over the top. I can break it down, understand it and put it in a little box labelled panic attack. It helps me rise above the challenge. That's a stressor in and of itself, feeling like I always have to handle even the down side of things well, learn from them and get a grip. Part of me thinks that 'fessing up to these weaknesses, owning them in some way, is a strength in and of itself. Another part of me isn't so sure and responds that I'm just advertising my weaknesses or worse, asking for sympathy. Neither one of those scenarios is appealing to me, but that's where I am -- shaking off a panic attack and feeling guilty because I had one.

If ever a conundrum called for xanax, it's this one, and I don't feel the slightest trace of guilt over that.

panic attacks, anxiety