And we're baaaaack...to feeling like crap

I haven't written in a while. Mainly because I've been alternating from panic induced blood pressure monitoring and google searching. Also because I haven't had anything to say but "OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE!". At least, that's how it feels. So as I may have mentioned before my disappearance, I was 'prescribed' therapy. So I went.

Well, funny story, I went on Tuesday. They were closed on Tuesday. How is that for a great beginning to therapy. "You are so screwed up, we actually decided to lock the doors and hide in the back room with the lights off until you went away." Actually, turns out I had the incorrect day on my PDA. And we all know, PDAs cannot be wrong (however, their owners can, and regullarly are).

Anyway, back to reality. So, I went yesterday. It was actually a pretty good experience. Of course, I like to talk to anyone who'll listen (I am an only child) so how could it not be good? She asked all the standard questions about my family etc. Then she asked me "So tell me why you're here". That pretty much took the next 35 minutes of our 45 minute hour (figure that math out...). I went on about my childhood (which was unremarkable in almost every way). Talked about all kinds of things - the first time I paniced, the fact that I know its panic, and that most times I can rationalize it away, blah blah blah. At the end she basically agreed with everything I said. "Yup, you've described anxiety perfectly". I knew I liked her.

At the end she had me practice concentrating on something other than the panic when it happens. She rang this little chime (the kind you see in Pier 1) and told me to concentrate on it as long as possible as a way to stop my brain from focusing on the bad stuff.

Well, let me tell you it didn't work. I thought everything was going pretty well when I got back to work. I sat down and it was time for my daily blood pressure check. And then it spiraled from there. It was high. Not so high that it was dangerous, but high enough to send me into full freak-out mode. I trid some of the stuff she told me to do. I tried deep breathing. I tried focusing on work, I tried conjuring up spirits, you name it. It just got worse.

By the end of the day and all through the night I was sure I was having some sort of hypertensive crisis. Positive that I would have a stroke at any moment. I woke up this morning thinking the same thing. Took my BP and it was good. Of course, my brain couldn't let that stand. I took it a bunch more and it just got worse from there.

Finally this morning after logging on to PanicSurvivor.com I was able to calm down. At that point I took it and it was pretty darn good.

Sorry to run on like this but this site is as much personal journal for me as it is (hopefully) helpful to others. The hardest thing in the world for me is to rationalize my own fears. I know I'm OK, but I don't believe myself. Then I do things to sabotage any sort of rational thoughts that I can muster.

I decided to start Zoloft today. I'd been putting it off until after the therapy. She wasn't against it and I'm apparently not through the worst of it like I thought. We'll see how it goes.

If someone else signs on and claims to be Thor, Ruler of Middle Scratchlactica, call somebody and tell them the meds worked a little too well...