During my brief* flirtation with cognitive behavioural therapy, I found my first stumbling block to be the advice I was given to follow when I’m having a panic attack:
“Remember, it won’t kill you“.
Really? Because that’s not how I felt last night.
Of course, it all worked out fine. It always does. This is the frustration; I know nothing terrible is likely to happen, but still I obsess and panic until I can’t see straight. Throughout my life this has happened hundreds if not thousands of times, and while bad stuff undoubtedly does happen… has the world ended yet? No.
I’m sick of not being able to make sense of myself.
Talking of sick, the Tramadol made me vomit. Penance, I guess.
*one session. I’m amazed I lasted that long.