Kat Atwell is a freelance writer, blogger & stage presence telling stories that deliver laughs, validation & community.

Mental Health | Wellness & Self Image | Experiential & Reviews

Raw hide!

Heeeeyah!

In case you were wondering, that's what my panic attack sounds like right now, in my head. I make light of it, because I have to, but the truth is I feel stuck in my own skin right now and I want to crawl out of it and get the hell out of dodge.

Get the fuck out of dodge. That's what I actually said in my head before I opted to censor myself.

So, I feel like crap. Went to the doctor on Saturday, got diagnosed with stuff, got medicine which I started taking Saturday night, slept a lot over the weekend and ate a lot of foods that were totally mushy or frozen. Predominantly, this has meant mashed potatoes and popsicles.

Today, I went into work because I had my second interview, and there was no way I was going to miss it. Sure, I felt weak and my throat still hurt like hell, but I wasn't about to miss this interview. As the morning wore on, I got progressively more tired, but I managed to make it to (and through) my interview. I didn't walk out of the office feeling the need to click my heels or high-five a random stranger, or bust out a "Nailed it!" or anything, but it felt pretty good.

Note: I felt the overwhelming urge to do all of those things after my first interview.

Afterwards, I pushed myself too hard and wound up waving the white flag around 3:00. I've been in bed pretty much exclusively since then. I've progressively gotten more panicky as the evening has worn on about my throat infection, and how it might possibly be tied to a 1 in 12,000 chance of "lamictal rash," despite a positive strep test and a husband who had a throat infection a mere week ago.

And then I sit here and beat myself up about making irrational connections between things simply for the sake of working myself into a frenzy. Which is exactly what I've done. And it is absolutely MADDENING.

I'm sick. I need to be gentle with myself and let myself heal. I need to relax and not stress out. Instead, my mind wants to somehow claim responsibility for a bacterial infection so that I can clutch to blame, thus gaining some kind of "control" over the whole thing. It's utterly asinine. Evidently, this is a pretty big panic attack, too, because I have yet to feel any kind of impact from the xanax I took. I'm too busy being angry at my brain.

I need a lozenge and I don't want to go downstairs to get it, nor do I want to sound puny by asking someone to get one for me. And they're downstairs, anyway, so I'd need to holler. What I really need right now is for something to take my brain off the panic at hand. If I had any energy, I'd clean.

I guess writing is a way of doing something. Here I am, giving myself credit. I mean, I'm still stewing, but at least I'm getting it out of my head. That absolutely counts. I also have a book right next to me that I could start reading. And I could ask for some incense to be burnt, because that's soothing. Ooh, I could read and burn incense and take a bath. I think I've stumbled across it.

Here's the crappy thing about panic: You can't run away from it. You want to, more than anything, but you can't. And it sucks. One of these days, soon, I'm going to make one of those You Are Not Alone videos for NAMI. If you haven't seen them, look them up.

I have Amy Poehler dressed up as Hillary Clinton in my head saying, "And don't refer to me a flurge. I Googled what it stands for and I do not like it."

Go see for youself. It really was really brilliantly done.:

Check Out Saturday Night Live: Palin / Hillary Open on Hulu.
( http://www.hulu.com/watch/34465 )

Step in the right direction.

puny.