I am out of ideas. When it gets to the point that any random comment made about you can bring tears, you know you have a problem. Here is the deal: I know I am messed up. I just wish there was a way to solve the insecurities I have, to make them better. I want a magic bandaid for my brain. I have a plan, not a great one, but one that will have to work for now.
My first panic attack happened when I was in fifth grade. I can remember everything about it. Where I was sitting, what it was about, how I reacted. It was terrible; the most frightening thing I have ever had to deal with. Since then, I have learned to roll with them. Most of the time I do okay. Lately, I have been having more trouble.
More frustrating than my apparent inability to have normal human interactions is the fact that everyone has a solution. Most of those solutions involve prayer, fasting, and the fact that if I had enough faith I would be healed. Great. Prayer, does work; to an extent. It helps get me through, but it does not stop the attacks. Being told to have more faith, does not help. The last thing a person like me needs is an existential crisis.
For now, I wait. I am going to get used to less sleep again, and I am going to force myself to interact with my friends. That helps. Even though talking to strangers is still painful, it should get better. That is the pattern I have noticed. If I make myself uncomfortable, eventually it eases up.
All this to say, I want my friends to know that I am okay. If I freak out on you, don’t take it personally. I really am working on being my normal self again (whatever that is). It is going to take practice and patience, but I’m hoping for the best. Remind me to breathe, give me a smile, it is going to get easier. It is; it always has…