Today I got in my car and drove far up the dual carriageway for the first time in years. I even got a little lost.
I met a stranger who became my friend. The afternoon passed by with comfortable ease, and I was so engrossed in conversation that hours had passed before I realised it was becoming dark. I hadn't eaten much in the morning, and by four I was starting to get shaky, so I said my goodbye and returned in the dark along that stretch of uncharted territory back to my home.
It is an achievement, maybe not a miraculous walk on the moon to some people, but to me it might as well have been such was the impossibility of it a few short months ago.
I got straight back into the car with my dogs and drove to my mum's house. Had some food and she decided that we should go to the supermarket. Not far in comparison to the journey I had made earlier. Perhaps I was tired, maybe not had that blood sugar rush that I'd needed, but the panic had returned and there was nothing I could do to fight it. It was one of those that was just creeping up and wouldn't be squashed with self belief.
My mind is a Judas!
How dare it turn on me when I'd had such a successful day! I'm told never to ask why but what causes it to happen. Tell me because I do not know. Is Asda so terrifying that I should feel as if I'm dying of a raging fever? Is it the blaring fluorescent lights, or the vastness of it, or the long aisles? I don't think so. It all smudges together into a huge blur. I hung in there, but felt as if I would just drop to the floor with fatigue. My skull squeezing my brain until it was like being stuck in a vice, and it really hurt. My legs went pathetically weak beneath me so that it was a struggle to walk. Not classic panic symptoms, but sneaky evil devilish ones that drain you like leeches sucking away at your strength.
A panic was all it was. Indeed if proof was needed I felt much better when I returned home.
Beneath that success today was a bleaker notion that my life is something that needs to be filled up, a succession of activities to make it presentably worthwhile. Perhaps that's just not enough. That is where the terrors came from. When is there a time to stop packing it with reasons to be, and just sit back and relax and enjoy it. I suspect that there is a missing ingredient, and I know perfectly well what that might be. 'The sugar in my cake' as it were.
What do you tell yourself in these situations? That it's happened ten thousand times and still you survived. Every time you coped, and that you never lost control, or required medical attention. The bad thoughts passed and you were okay, ultimately you came through. I'm tired of the fight but fight I must.
Is the Coffeecup half empty? Of course not, she is most certainly half full.
Today I got in my car and drove far up the dual carriageway for the first time in years. I even got a little lost.
I met a stranger who became my friend. The afternoon passed by with comfortable ease, and I was so engrossed in conversation that hours had passed before I realised it was becoming dark. I hadn't eaten much in the morning, and by four I was starting to get shaky, so I said my goodbye and returned in the dark along that stretch of uncharted territory back to my home.
It is an achievement, maybe not a miraculous walk on the moon to some people, but to me it might as well have been such was the impossibility of it a few short months ago.
I got straight back into the car with my dogs and drove to my mum's house. Had some food and she decided that we should go to the supermarket. Not far in comparison to the journey I had made earlier. Perhaps I was tired, maybe not had that blood sugar rush that I'd needed, but the panic had returned and there was nothing I could do to fight it. It was one of those that was just creeping up and wouldn't be squashed with self belief.
My mind is a Judas!
How dare it turn on me when I'd had such a successful day! I'm told never to ask why but what causes it to happen. Tell me because I do not know. Is Asda so terrifying that I should feel as if I'm dying of a raging fever? Is it the blaring fluorescent lights, or the vastness of it, or the long aisles? I don't think so. It all smudges together into a huge blur. I hung in there, but felt as if I would just drop to the floor with fatigue. My skull squeezing my brain until it was like being stuck in a vice, and it really hurt. My legs went pathetically weak beneath me so that it was a struggle to walk. Not classic panic symptoms, but sneaky evil devilish ones that drain you like leeches sucking away at your strength.
A panic was all it was. Indeed if proof was needed I felt much better when I returned home.
Beneath that success today was a bleaker notion that my life is something that needs to be filled up, a succession of activities to make it presentably worthwhile. Perhaps that's just not enough. That is where the terrors came from. When is there a time to stop packing it with reasons to be, and just sit back and relax and enjoy it. I suspect that there is a missing ingredient, and I know perfectly well what that might be. 'The sugar in my cake' as it were.
What do you tell yourself in these situations? That it's happened ten thousand times and still you survived. Every time you coped, and that you never lost control, or required medical attention. The bad thoughts passed and you were okay, ultimately you came through. I'm tired of the fight but fight I must.
Is the Coffeecup half empty? Of course not, she is most certainly half full.