For whatever reason, I woke up with a shout this morning. I think I’ll chalk this one up to a good old-fashioned panic attack. This kinda shit would have really worried me years ago. But at this point you tend to just deal with it as it comes. I don’t mean to belittle anyone else going through this or to make light of it. I mean hell, I’ve been dealing with Panic Disorder since 1999. I’ve gone through so many treatment sessions and so many different medication combos. That after a while it’s easy to feel more like a lab rat then a patient.
At this point in my life, I’ve spoken so many times about my illness and treatments, that maybe I gloss over it a bit. But never the less, I’m here and it’s here like an unwanted guest at my party. For a person with enough physical ailments to stop a freight train, you can imagine the health anxiety I often experience. But along with that, I have the strange ability to remain calm during a crisis. My family and physicians often find that irritating, but for some strange reason I’m able to compartmentalize my fear from analytical side of thinking.
Hell, I don’t know why I’m rambling on about this other than to waste time while this episode passes. I suppose the point is to be proactive with your treatment. Question everything, do your own research into treatment opinions. Be honest with your therapist and doctors about your experiences. But most importantly, don’t be ashamed. There are thousands of individuals out that live miserable lives because of shame and fear. And I should know I was one of them. For the better part of 15 years no one but few knew I suffered from mental illness. So be vocal, be proactive, and don’t let the stigma of mental illness keep you from fighting back. Goodnight.