Something scary has happened to me since Friday. My anxiety got triggered and I found myself in its clutches once again. Full-blown panic attacks. Shakiness. Tears.
My therapist received my SOS and was able to see me Saturday morning. I have never been such a mess in her office. I’ve been a mess–but not like this. I couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop crying. I am so incredibly grateful for her kindness and concern–her belief in me as a struggling human being. My heart is So. Incredibly. Grateful.
I’m am working hard to convince my unforgiving self that it is OKAY that I was a mess. That it is OKAY to breakdown in a safe and supportive environment. My unforgiving self is mortified and embarrassed and really wants to apologize for using a whole box of tissues and seriously losing it. My wiser, gentler self is saying that it needed to happen–I needed to let it out, and this was a good place to do it. It is a battle.
Receiving support when I’m in need is a new experience for me. It is not an easy one…trusting that it is safe, free, and non-judgmental is scary. It is hard to believe I am, for once, being met with care and concern–not annoyance and frustration.
My weekend has been hard.
In these moments, when the panic overcomes me, hitting me like a freight train, I lose my sense of self. I am, once again, a scared little girl, begging for help. I can’t be alone. Alone is so scary. Something might happen to me (even when, logically, I know it won’t). I need someone to be with me.
In the moments after the big panic, residual waves continue to come. I am nauseous, fearful, shaky. I am so frustrated and angry at myself–how can I let this happen, again? I begin to question everything that is coming up, panicking at the idea of how I can possibly do any of it when I feel like this. The panic begins to hit me again.
In these moments, I am scared. So scared that I will never, ever be the same. That I will never, ever learn to cope. That I will never, ever be a strong, happy person.
A whole person.
In these moments, I question it all–my courage, my progress, my sanity.
I want these moments to end.
Damn I feel you about being a scared little girl.
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The fact that you have to fight these battles already makes you a strong person.
J
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