Wednesday, June 29, 2016

It was a whopper

I had a whopper of an anxiety attack, full on gulping air and panic crying. I managed to get outside and sat on a coppers log heaving breath as I struggled to regain control. I knew I was in a moment of high emotion and that it would pass. But when I was at its peak, well, it was a shocker.

A colleague was across the road awaiting a pick up and saw my distress. He came over to make sure I was okay then put his hand on my shoulder and told me it would all be alright. It was nice of him to do that. Fortunately the peak had passed and I assured him it was tapering and that in a couple of minutes I'd be right to walk again. 

The Vallium I'd taken had kicked in, or maybe it was a subconscious placebo reaction of "I've had this; it will make me clam", but either way after a couple of minutes I got up, I dried off the tears and I went back to my desk. 

I stayed the day.

Later, in the afternoon, I passed the colleague's office. I stuck my head in through his door to thank him for taking coming over to check I was okay.

It was a nasty, deep attack that left me shaking and tired. But it was just an attack, it wasn't a battle. I got through it and I'll get through the next one; there is never an occasion that I do not. 

I just have to remind myself when I'm in the middle of one that I'm in the middle of one and after the middle comes the end.


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