After what I thought was a success yesterday, I ended up having one of the worst panic attacks I have ever had. It was the type that grabs hold of your entire body and mind and makes it feel like the whole world is going to end. In the middle, I felt defeated and powerless and I thought very seriously about ending it all. It was absolutely terrifying. I thought about my daughter. I thought about how much I love her and how much I would hurt her. How much I would miss her.
I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t want to feel this way. The demons were telling me to take the easy way out. To quit fighting. I called in my support team: medical and otherwise. I’m not gonna let this beat me.
I sat across from my doctor today, and he told me that, no matter what I do, these dark days are likely to come from time to time. We talked about the shame of such a realization and how it’s not my fault that I have this problem to bear. Now the hard work begins-I have to learn to accept the darkness without letting it destroy me. Here I go.