Posted by YvetteJ
22nd Nov 2014

There is no conscious moment before the physical pressure begins. I awake with a Labrador sitting on my chest, not literally you understand, but a massive metaphor of a hound preventing my first breath as I awake. The full blown panic attack hasn't set in yet. But I know it can and will if I don't talk it through, logically in my head. Then begins the spiral whirring of tumultuous thoughts that are invariably interrupted by my need to get the children up. Face the panic attack forming again I self hug and try to relax before facing the hurricane that is my SPD daughter whose default starting state of mind is to shout. I'm a sensitive soul myself so dealing with such dogged antagonism is merely perpetuating my anxieties. Will she get through the morning without making my heartburn severe, or will I have to explode my fears verbally the action of which,in itself, makes me more stressed as the guilt kicks in. I've wanted children all my life, perfect happy mornings full of love and laughter. Reality smears the heartfelt wish into a squashed worm on the floor. I make breakfast holding my breath, can I eat, am I too stressed. Will I throw up blood again. Is this normality?

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