I feel wonderful. Really, really good. I had so much crap thrown at me this weekend. A sick child. Unexpected houseguests. Expected houseguests. A performance by my preschool choir. Husband having church responsibilities. A mother-in-law and sister's birthdays. Huge trial this next week. And the usual housework and shopping and life in general stuff too. Despite all of that, I feel good.
This medication is indescribable. The side effects are manageable now and I'm back to driving. I feel happy. Back up a minute. Re-read that --- I ...FEEL.....get it? I feel, I FEEL. I FEEL ..followed by a positive word. This can't be me writing this? But I am. I really feel good. Happy. I've handled everything life has thrown at me. I've enjoyed the sunlight. Slept well with typical stupid dreams - not the night terrors, wake up screaming kind. My jaw is healing. My husband and I had some time alone to catch up and really talk. Life is good today - and it hasn't been in so long.
The MAP3 book I was working through for awhile explained that panic attacks are a vicious cycle. They consist of physical symptoms (rapid heart rate, dizziness, tingly feelings, etc) followed by mental symptoms (fear, world is ending, something is coming), round and round in a circle. Either can come first - the physical or mental, but once they start, it's hard to get off the merry go round. This weekend, the merry go round came to a halt.
Those of you familiar with the Bible may recall the story of Job. Satan kept trying to get at Job and kept saying to God, (my paraphrase) "but God, if you will just allow me to throw this adversity at Job, he'll fall." I felt that happening this weekend. Things that would normally send me reeling with a panic attack would register in my mind. But no physical symptoms followed. Then it was as if a little voice inside my head (that darn Voice B, I bet) would try to intensify those thoughts, or take them in an even worse direction, twist them every evil way possible. But the physical symptoms never kicked in. In church this Sunday, the preacher was talking about protecting children. He started talking about abuse. I took a xanax, got up and walked out - sure that I was going to launch into a vicious panic attack, and wanting to be out of the sanctuary before it hit. I walked out to the bathroom. Walked out the vestibule and sat down. Waited for it to start. My thoughts were going all over the place. But the physical symptoms never started. I even let my thoughts wander (though I think I could have controlled them) to the worse possible things - still no panic symptoms.
This is amazing. This is life. Experiencing Life. FEELing life. I love it.