Panic Room

I have never been good at handling change. I know it's because of the trauma of losing my mother at such a young age.

If there was a way to keep everything exactly the same for the rest of my life, I'd do it. Even though there are some things in my life right now I'm not completely happy with (like the fact I haven't had a date in god-knows-how-long), I would stay the same, same, same because it's familiar and I already know how to deal with the shitty stuff.

I had a very bad panic attack last night. I was convinced I was having a simultaneous brain aneurysm and stroke. My right temple was aching and the room was spinning. No matter how much I tried to calm myself down, it got worse and worse. I tried drinking a big glass of water. I took a couple of Tylenol. I surfed the internet. I hugged my cat. I counted the seconds between each painful throb of the blood vessels in my temple and noticing the frequency was completely random.

Nothing was bringing me back to the calm, warmth of my bed. To the reality that I was really okay and it was all in my head.

This always happens to me when things are about to change. And at the moment, I'm right on the precipice, teetering between what is familiar and what is foreign.

I've always landed on my feet no matter what life has thrown at me. I know this will always be true. But that fact doesn't give me any comfort during the sheer terror I experience alone at night.

I finally drifted off to sleep after an hour and a half of panicking. As suddenly as it had started, it finally just stopped.

I may have to visit my doctor and get on medication again.