Bless me, Bloggers, for I am pinned. Suffocating beneath the weight of a looming panic attack. It's been four weeks since my last menstruation.
I know I should not let my hormones rule me, that I'm supposed to keep my urges in check, but it's overwhelming, Bloggers, and I don't think I can stifle the impulse to curl up and sob much longer. Just for a moment. That's all I need. If indulging in such a sweet release is a sin then let me be guilty. I'll pay my penance later.
In the last four weeks I have been good to myself. Eaten well, exercised a lot, cultivated some cherished new friendships -- one in particular that's illuminated corners of my intellect I'd almost forgotten were there. It's been a happy month, Bloggers, at a time of year when even happy days are scarce. Except, of course, on cable. I didn't realize how good I felt until I started feeling bad. I took happiness for granted and now I feel badly about that, too.
Around quittin' time yesterday my gut began to sink. By dinnertime my chest was growing tight. I climbed into bed early, breath shallow, mind racing at breakneck speed. I even took some NyQuil to knock me out -- a desperate measure, I know, since I'm loathe to take medicine even when I need it -- but still I was up three times before dawn. (Actually that could have been the tea.) By the time my alarm came to life at 6:45 my brain had been up for an hour. Roused, apparently, by my heart, which was pounding against my ribs. "Nice of you to join us, lazy bones," the two of them scowled at my puffy reflection. "Now go wash your face, you look like shit."
Seven hours later my ticker is still thumping. Needless to say I can't concentrate on much besides breathing deep and slow; if I turn my attention the wave of panic might hit shore. It's time to leave the office, I think.
Blog, grant me the strength to soothe my restless mind so I may sleep in peace, wake with a smile and revel in the joys I'm so fortunate to encounter from day to day. I have faith that this will all blow over in a couple days. It always does. It almost always does. In the meantime it helps to unburden myself to you, Bloggers. You are always there, simply to listen and not to judge such a self-indulgent pity party as this one. Thank you for that; I'm feeling better already.