For the past few days I’ve been so panicked about a number of things that it has rendered me:
1. not functional
3. unable to breathe (literally, asthma attacks, auugh)
4. severely unhappy
5. not at all creative
All of that has left me feeling like I’m battling against gale force winds with a parachute strapped to my back. I’m trying to be calm and to reflect but it’s even harder when I no longer have my own space, because no family home is really its own space — doorways don’t act as barriers but invitations.
As a result I’m getting less done than usual, which in turn makes me MORE panicky and then I just want to curl up in a hole and hide.
Me, everyday ^
but this helps a little.. well… for a while… but yeah.
I keep telling myself that the panic will fade when I leave this awful flat and go somewhere that isn’t infested with phobia-trigging icky things.
I know that’s not true, with all the things I’m worrying about, but like… I don’t know what else to tell myself.
the magic of zefrank I guess