Posted by anxiousgeek
15th Aug 2015

My anxiety comes in two forms (used to be three, but Iíll come back to that). There is the slow build, the always there, low level panic that feels like there are little gnomes living inside of my chest that have chains wrapped around my lungs and are pulling them ever tighter. It can last for hours (longer) and never really getting any better or any worse and just pulling me down and making wanting to curl up into a ball and wait for it to go away.

Then thereís the panic attack. And by attack I mean it feels like someone has punched me, hard, with a metal hand ó fist straight through the rib cage and has grabbed my heart and is squeezing, squeezing and pulling out from between my lungs that no longer work, no longer draw air and my heart no longer pumps blood and Iím getting dizzy and itís going black and Iím going to pass out and wake up heartless, breathless and inside a hospital on a 72 hour detention under the 1983 mental health act and will never, never ever be free of the system.

Which is something that has a) Never happened and b) Never will happen. It used to be a serious, serious fear, now Iím very aware itís not going to happen but it hasnít made the panic attacks any easier let me tell you.

The third type of anxiety I used to suffer from is the complete and utter breakdown of all my brain and body, violently rocking back and forth and kicking things and being completely unable to think of anything, anything at all except for more kicking, more rocking, more mental (and occasionally actual) screaming until it stops and weíre back to the punch in the chest or the gnomes or some crying.

Sometimes the two (three) connect, or blend together, going from one to the other. I feel the gnomes, pulling those heavy metal chains ever tighter inside my chest, and Iím anticipating a fist any minute now, and second now, hard and fist and there is nothing, nothing I can do to stop it. And often the fist in the chest is removed and my heart and lungs returned and working again, the gnomes holding it all together too tightly for the rest of the day, that has effectively been ruined because a fist in the chest is really hard to get over and the gnomes never, ever just give up.

Iím telling you this because this is how I feel right now. Right before bedtime. I take 60mg of Seroxat every single day. The maximum dose. And still here I am, waiting for that metal fist to the chest.

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