This weekend has been hell. I started new head meds on Friday and the rest is history.
I don’t want to write about it. Can’t.
But I’ve never felt this not-safe before. My psychiatrist asked me on Wednesday did I feel like I would act on my thoughts and I said no. Fast forward a few days and the answer is so so different. I have enough clarity of thought to know not to, the damage it would do, but there are moments I can see how it happens. There are moments I want it to happen just to make the feelings go away.
I didn’t take them today and this afternoon I started to feel a little bit better.
Before the meds the panic attacks were physical. They were hard, raw, big scraggy rocks that were falling on me.
After the meds it was in my head and everything felt painfully fragile. Like one noise too loud, one thought too dark, one action misunderstood and I would shatter into a million tiny shards. Brittle.
I can not be still. If I am still the brain starts. You should see how clean our toilets are. I’m scared about going to bed for fear of how and when I will wake up. The demons at 4am are viscous.
There is no rational thought, just one on loop – I can’t feel like this any more.
Psychiatrist will be called first thing Monday morning.