kevin
12-14-2006, 06:24 PM
I couldn't even walk to the fucking mall today.
As soon as I left the door I fucking knew it was coming...its ugly face has appeared in my mind for too fucking long now.
I begin walking to the mall, attempting to practice a panic-away technique I read up on last night. It is the one where you rate your anxiety/panic on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being completely relaxed and 10 being a full-blown panic attack.
As I begin walking to the mall, even leaving the door, I give myself a 3. I start walking to the mall, I seem to be calming down, I give myself a 2...then I begin to hyperventilate.
Using another technique I learned once hyperventiation sets in, I hold my breathe for as long as comfortably possible.
4...I am now at 4. I manage to calm down a little once again, exhaling the large breathe I just took in. The hyperventilating stops and I continue walking....still a 4.
As I near closer to the mall I feel it coming...as if I am the prey of a predator which just jumped out of the bushes full-speed straight at me, inching its way in faster than I can even begin to attempt to put into perspective.
I continue walking, telling myself that this always happens and I can't let it win....it can't win...this is what it wants...it wants to win and I don't want to let it...but it's winning.
6...I am now at a 6...10 is the worst. 10 is the worst...and it can't get any worse after 10, but I don't want to be at a 10...I've already been at a 10 enough times...too many times...I don't want to feel like I'm dying and start asking myself the questions that have boggled my mind every single time the attack sets in.
8...I look at the trees surrounding me and even the trees begin scaring me. THE FUCKING TREES.
I'm almost at a 10...I turn around completely embarassed and head back to the apartment. I think about how embarassing it will be to talk to my roomate and tell her that I can't even walk to the mall and back.
6...the panic is decreasing as I get closer and closer to home, my safe haven, the place where I feel most comfortable althought it too has been the host of several panic attacks.
4...I'm almost there, but the thought of the embarassment I'm about to receive is almost as bad as the panic attack itself...who am I kidding, no it isn't.
3...I am in the apartment, just told my roomate what happened and she looks disappointed and pissed off. "But you used to be fine going there." Yes I USED to be fine, I USED to not be this fucking stupid, irrational, and high-strung. As if every sober non-medicated second of my life is part of a bad trip even though I don't even do drugs.
Still at 3...as I sit here typing this shitty story about another shitty event in my shitty life, I light a cigarette, knowing full well that it just makes my anxiety worse.
I am disgusted with myself.
As soon as I left the door I fucking knew it was coming...its ugly face has appeared in my mind for too fucking long now.
I begin walking to the mall, attempting to practice a panic-away technique I read up on last night. It is the one where you rate your anxiety/panic on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being completely relaxed and 10 being a full-blown panic attack.
As I begin walking to the mall, even leaving the door, I give myself a 3. I start walking to the mall, I seem to be calming down, I give myself a 2...then I begin to hyperventilate.
Using another technique I learned once hyperventiation sets in, I hold my breathe for as long as comfortably possible.
4...I am now at 4. I manage to calm down a little once again, exhaling the large breathe I just took in. The hyperventilating stops and I continue walking....still a 4.
As I near closer to the mall I feel it coming...as if I am the prey of a predator which just jumped out of the bushes full-speed straight at me, inching its way in faster than I can even begin to attempt to put into perspective.
I continue walking, telling myself that this always happens and I can't let it win....it can't win...this is what it wants...it wants to win and I don't want to let it...but it's winning.
6...I am now at a 6...10 is the worst. 10 is the worst...and it can't get any worse after 10, but I don't want to be at a 10...I've already been at a 10 enough times...too many times...I don't want to feel like I'm dying and start asking myself the questions that have boggled my mind every single time the attack sets in.
8...I look at the trees surrounding me and even the trees begin scaring me. THE FUCKING TREES.
I'm almost at a 10...I turn around completely embarassed and head back to the apartment. I think about how embarassing it will be to talk to my roomate and tell her that I can't even walk to the mall and back.
6...the panic is decreasing as I get closer and closer to home, my safe haven, the place where I feel most comfortable althought it too has been the host of several panic attacks.
4...I'm almost there, but the thought of the embarassment I'm about to receive is almost as bad as the panic attack itself...who am I kidding, no it isn't.
3...I am in the apartment, just told my roomate what happened and she looks disappointed and pissed off. "But you used to be fine going there." Yes I USED to be fine, I USED to not be this fucking stupid, irrational, and high-strung. As if every sober non-medicated second of my life is part of a bad trip even though I don't even do drugs.
Still at 3...as I sit here typing this shitty story about another shitty event in my shitty life, I light a cigarette, knowing full well that it just makes my anxiety worse.
I am disgusted with myself.