It's going on two a.m. and I meant to sleep but I'm afraidafraidafraid, of nothing and of
everything. It is just panic that is creeping up my throat and clogging my brain and surging over me, and those things go away after a while, I know.
But no matter how often I tell myself this, it doesn't help.
And my head is like something filled with hot, damp cotton candy, it's all mushy and soft inside and in danger of floating or possibly melting away.
shit shit shit. I don't want to be scared liked this, it feels like my skin is on fire and my guts are inside out.
I'd like to see my therapist right about now, because she's nice and calm and rational, and has a friendly smile. But the next appointment is still a few days away, I know she's a busybusybusy woman.
She tells me I should monitor my fear in a situation like this, make a list where I write down in certain intervals the perceived level of my anxiety on a scale from 1 to 100; so that I have something tangible, a concrete manifestation of my inner chaos in the outside world, something real and unscarily objective that gives me some control.
Also so that I can track how it develops, so that I can be relieved when the panic finally abates.
I thought that was a fine idea, only I have no scale - it's always 100 to me.
100 100 100, I could write this on paper all night long, it's coming in waves and it isn't leaving.
Do you know that feeling where you thought you could do something, but find out you really can't?
You can't, simply can't, still can't,
physically can't? I'm not referring to eating or starving, I just mean - something you can't face, you thought you could but you realize you can't and it's crushing, it makes you sweat with fear of how much you will disappoint yourself and others.
And you feel that others will never understand, how could they even suspect the width and depth and height of this nightmare?
I listen to the cars passing outside and try to pretend it's the ocean - but that's cheap, really, a cheap thing to pretend.
I'm sorry for rambling, I just need to try and get rid of the mushy-cotton-candy-feeling, the hot-hot-panic-feeling, and I think rambling on here might be helping. It's perhaps an 80 now. I'm not sure.
