Oh, so this is what we call wallowing. These past couple of days. I know better, I can do better – but some part of me is choosing not to. Some part of me is throwing a deep-seated tantrum, and refusing to listen to the rational voice.
This is the same part of me that just wants everything to be fine, to not have to work so goshdarn hard all the time to have empathy and compassion and sympathy and understanding. This part is laaaaaaaaaazy. It says “I don’t WANT to consider where you’re coming from on this, I AM BUSY BEING HURT.” Nice.
I had a full-on panic attack on Saturday for the first time in many months. My vision went dark and my hands shook and I couldn’t breathe and then I acted like a twitchy, twitchy freako. But unlike months ago, when I was having them all the time, I could tell what was going on, why it was happening – and I didn’t lean into it. I didn’t wallow on Saturday – I breathed and focused and UGH SO BORING.
Anyway, I guess I used it all up that afternoon, all the energy in those coping mechanisms, because there’s a lot of faking-it-til-making-it going on at the moment. Unfortunately, making-it hasn’t started yet.
