Writing. The Cursed Blessing I Can't Get Away From.

I had a panic attack today. It was bad. What made it worse is that D and I couldn't find my clonazapem. Bad thing. We found it eventually, but not before I had spiralled into the realm of Kafka. I called my mom and we discussed possible triggers. She asked if I was too stressed about Nanowrimo. Yes, I am stressed, but in the most delightful way. I think the proper term there is "So freaking excited I can't take it, but also trepidatious because it might be hard, but if it is thats okay because it's fun anyway." Stressed is easier to say.

Then we thought about my writing escapade yesterday (See previous entry). I am sure it stemmed from that. Yesterday's episode just percolated along with my cold from hell, so I was on edge, and physically ill. My BIGGEST trigger for panic attacks is feeling sick. (See also: Emetophobia) So that plus yesterday plus PMS, sorry guys, equals super mega panic mode.

Mom wants me to go back to Group. I am going to wait a couple days and see how I feel, because it's kind of a hassle plus it would be weird to be there with anyone but my mom.

I just need to put more space between me and myself.

That made sense to me.

Other than that, I am still trucking along. Been writing more, even invested in a new journal. Even though I have come to prefer writing at the laptop, it's simply not as portable as a notebook and you never know when you will be struck with the desire to write. Plus I like collecting things and taping them in my journals. It's a tactile thing. 

Anyway. I love you all, and don't worry about me too much. For all intents and purposes, I'm fine.