I lie in bed, startled awake by the neighbors upstairs. Damn near stomping on the ground and rattling all my walls. Could they be any more heavy footed? Why does the sound make my skin crawl? Why can't I catch my breath?
Stop.
Open my eyes.
I am in my bed, yes. But I am in my house. There are no upstairs neighbors. What the hell is that sound? My skin is still crawling. I'm gasping for breath. I can't get enough air in. Oh my God; it's me. IT'S ME. It's my heart that's racing, that's pounding out of my chest, constricting my breath and my rational reasoning skills... and holding me hostage.
The panic attacks are back with a vengeance.
In theory, I get the general idea of reducing stress, and having coping mechanisms to help me get through the day. I do. I do. I promise I do. I promise I do my part. I don't sit passively by *hoping* I can maneuver around them. I take an active role against these little bastard demons of mine. Yet they can STILL come out of no where, and have the power and audacity to wake me from a dead sleep.
Leave me alone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Please?
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