I had two panic attacks today while driving. I managed to calm myself so that they were mercifully short (although painfully, frighteningly long while they were happening).
I know I'm stressed out and I'm trying very hard to remind myself that it will all be o.k., and no matter what happens, things will be fine. But it's so hard to keep remembering that things get better when you are mired in anger and frustration.
The funny/sad thing is, I've spent the past few weeks thinking about how much I enjoy the holidays - how much I like the songs and the lights and the . . . I guess spirit of the season. I'm not Christian, but I like the idea of celebrating in winter, when things are at their cold, lonely worst. I was happy. Really. I was enjoying myself and the holiday season and looking forward to wrapping gifts (I LOVE wrapping gifts) and even baking cookies.
And then today. Man. It was tough. I'm proud of myself for getting through it, for not pulling over and freaking out and for managing to calm myself down. But I'm still worried about the blob of anxiety floating around me, ready to fuck me up when I least expect it.