I was just congratulating myself on achieving calm and order in my mind. My last real attack was back in October and finally writing about it seemed to be a turning point as I’ve had very little to deal with since. One up to me!
Last night I had the worse attack I think I’ve ever had. Certainly rivalled the tearing off of the wedding outfit one. Absolutely no rhyme. No reason. I had a very relaxing evening. A bit of Twitter. Watched rubbish TV. Did jigsaws on the iPad as I watched. Nothing stressful. Just chilling.
Plucking my eyebrows before bed, as you do, it hit me. Wave after wave of anxiety. Unable to move. Couldn’t breathe. Nauseous. Shaking. None of the coping mechanisms I’d developed working. I lay on the cold of the bathroom floor praying for it to end. Weeping with the utter helplessness I felt.
In time it passed. A long time. Much longer than previous episodes. Is this my punishment for daring to believe I’ve conquered this debilitating condition? How dare I! How very dare I!
I awoke this morning still feeling shaken by it. Family coming today though including my beloved Toots. Get up and get on.
I start a course on Monday with FutureLearn on Mindfulness and I am hopeful that it will provide other strategies and techniques I can call on in the future. As a good friend keeps saying to me ‘onward and upward.’ I will keep travelling forward. I accept there will be delays on my journey but I will get there!
More hubris. I’d better be careful.