Sunday morning, I woke up feeling fine. Then, for NO FUCKING REASON, I was hit with one of the worst panic attacks I've ever had. The last time I was in this state was in university full time, working full time, and my only 'friends' were being deliberately psychologically abusive.
If this panic attack was a cyclone, it would've been a category 5. It would've been a category 5 kaiju. It would've measured 9 on the Richter scale. If it was a tsunami, it would've been the one that swallowed Atlantis.
It was baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad, guys.
And I don't know the trigger. One moment I was fine. The next, I was a puddle of hyperventilating mass of ooze on the floor. It felt like forever before I was in control enough to move, and then the panicking feeling stayed with me all day.
One of the coping mechanisms I've been taught (fucking thank you, therapy) is to, when you're able, do things that make you feel in control. It helps to alleviate that awful feeling of helplessness that accompany my panic attacks. Note: this doesn't work for everyone. Work with your therapist to find solutions that work for you. Anyway, for me, that meant cleaning my room. Like, a thorough cleaning. I got rid of so much.
The room is now absolutely clean and clear, and serves as a brilliant oasis.
Which I needed Monday. Yesterday was a day spent in the throes of a panic attack hangover. For those who are clueless as to what that is, it's an awful lot like how you feel after a night out dancing and drinking to excess... but without all the fun. The upset stomach, full body ache, headache that will destroy your will to live... all of it. I went straight to bed when I finished my day Monday.
It took me a while to fall asleep, though, 'cause things with Galahad are weird. I'm worried that something is seriously wrong with him. He won't let me near. He's tense. He meows at me like I'm a threat and keeps running away from me. He's eating, though, so that's a good sign.
I've been reassured that he's probably just mad because my room is now clean. It was his safe spot for a bit, and I got rid of all the things he liked to lie on. But I've never seen him like this. Not ever.
I'm hoping they're right. I can handle him being pissed at me. But I'm anxious that something is actually really wrong, and he's in pain. I was so anxious that, despite not falling asleep until late last night, I woke up at 4:00am this morning. I checked on him. He's still, for want of a better descriptor, cranky.
A friend of mine called this morning to check up on us both, and I spent the majority of the conversation in tears. I'm freaking out about it a little. A lot.
I won't be going to training tonight. I'm going home to keep an eye on Galahad and make sure he's eating and drinking still. I might take tomorrow off to spend with him and keep an eye on him. If things don't improve tomorrow, I'm... selling a kidney and taking him to a vet.
Anyway, that's where I'm at now. My headache is gone, as is most of the body ache, but I'm still too stressed and too anxious to be of use to anyone today.
In happier news, they've rescued the entire soccer team trapped in the caves in Thailand. They're all out, and receiving medical aid. Also, Stephen Colbert is back on the air, and that's great too.
Now I have to go and stare blankly at something.