I’m trying so hard to keep it together.
I haven’t been blogging, I haven’t been doing much lately. I’ve been working on my book.
I didn’t step foot out of my house for about four months.
I’ve been making progress lately. It have gone out a few times, and a few times successfully without panic attacks.
Sometimes it feels like the apprehension is the worst. The apprehension before getting inside of a car. The apprehension of knowing I’m going to be stuck inside a car. What if we hit a red light? What if I get so freaked out that I want to jump out of the car while it’s moving? Sometimes that feeling of being completely trapped is so overwhelming that I want to escape, to anywhere. But there’s nowhere to escape to. I can’t escape my body.
For about two months (during/after my previous blog post), I would panic any time I was by myself. I don’t want to die, but the feeling of wanting to escape your body/reality so badly because it’s so painful that you would do anything to stop it is utterly terrifying. It’s like – I don’t want to die, but my desire not to have panic attacks is greater than my fear of death.
I have been seeing a therapist once a week who comes to my house which has been immensely helpful.
Although, I think that one of my biggest problems in receiving help is that I present too well. I always put a lot of effort into my appearance. I always try to look my best, dress up, etc. Even on the days I’m holed up in my house and I don’t see anyone, I do my makeup and spend an hour picking out a cute dress to wear. It helps keep the hopelessness at bay for some reason or another.
I don’t want to be like this. I want to be happy. I want to go places. I want to travel. I don’t just want to get out of my house – I want to travel the world, experience different cultures, explore, and LIVE. I feel like I’m on the surface. I don’t know what to do.