coffeelove

It's scary. Really scary.
As some of you might remember I've been taking meds for my panic disorder. I've been in therapy, which was somewhat helpful but since I was on the meds I really didn't have anything to work with.
So I decided to cut my dose in half, and for a while everything was okay, until the panic attacks started again. Like that incident in the bathroom, where I hyperventilated until I fainted. Have the scars to prove it!
Well, whatever. It has escalated ever since, night on Christmas Eve I was so worried about oversleeping for my shift at work that I started crying. I've been staying at my moms for Christmas and she was awake, so I went out into the living room and cried for half an hour as she just hugged me.

Half the time I want to go back to my regular dose and just stay medicated for the rest of my life, the other half of me is just so angry and pissed off because this isn't me. I feel weak and I hate feeling weak. Yet sometimes I wonder where I find the strenght to get up in the mornings. Some days I don't get up.
It doesn't help that I am constantly worried about my finances and work, I've had to abandon my trip to London, most likely can't go on the annual family vacation to Denmark and who knows, soon I might not afford my rent.

This year has sucked beyond belief. I am so close to giving up. I'm going on my last reserves. I just want to sleep for a year.