Saturday Morning

Well thank God for that. I got into bed last night and went to sleep in a slow fade.

In my bread making class, I learned that there are yeast particles in air everywhere. Just mix flour and water together and soon, yeast from the air will invade, making it rise and boil with life.

I thought of that this morning when I awoke at 3:00 am.

When I woke up, consciousness slowly filled my brain and and it was like I'd awakened into a world where invisible particles of terror filled the air like yeast and when I awoke, tens of thousands of them screamed, "HE"S AWKE"and billions of terror molecules invaded me.

First: Terror and crying. "How can I possibly go on like this? I wondered. I got u up, but then I pulled the curtains over me to hide (from what?) and I thought I would have to go to the psych ward across the street. I started my breathing and thought, I am going to have to go on anti-anxiety medications.

And then things started to settle down. Then Leon jumped up on my bed and his touch brought me back to regular old "high alert." I can live with "high alert" but not "panic." So you could say there is some good in the attacks: They make living with high anxiety seem bearable.

Panic attacks alone in the dark are scarier than panic attacks in daylight and when I can see people on the street.

I totally get agoraphobia. I don't have it, but I get it. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home." She had Toto; I have Leon.

I sense this is going to take a long time to fix. I don't care how long it takes, I can hardly wait to get there. People say things to me: "Take it easy;" "Go easy on yourself;" "This will pass." I know they are right. But in the full flush of an anxiety attack, you don't believe that, so those are smart things to say.

When people say, "Get better." I hear: "I don't want to get involved."