Sometimes, it Gets Worse. That Doesn’t Mean it Isn’t Getting Better.

The other day I experienced a bad panic attack. It’s been a while since I’ve had one that debilitated me to that extent. Tagging along with the attack was a flashback. I haven’t had one of those in such a long time.

I can’t say what exactly was the trigger. What I do know is I tend to shove everything into a bottle that’s constantly being shaken.

This particular attack disturbed me, it came out as rage.

I wanted to pull my hair out. I wanted to rip off the parts of the skin I could feel were going through the flashback. Any response you would get from me was loud and nonsensical. I was crying (not in a cathartic way). Every muscle tense like rock.

Not anger, not frustration. Full on rage. My version, I guess. It’s not easy to make me angry. I’ve seen worse. That in itself most likely fueled the panic. I’m able to identify this irrational level of anger due to childhood. Growing up with a suspected BPD parent who’s rages included destruction of property and severe abuse, there’s a deep-seated fear of that emotion.

At least with that experience, I have a baseline of what I will never become.

This led me to scour the internet looking up what happened.

Am I getting worse?

Short answer, yes. Long answer, no. Coming off the benzodiazepine is finally allowing me to process what I should have long ago, and with the help of therapy, I know what to do as to not sabotage myself again.

I didn’t dwell, either. I continued on with the day. That’s a huge change. That stint (in the past) would have scared me to the point of isolating myself. Now, it’s a shit event that happened. I’m not going to let this beat me.

I have to remember the short answer is that PAWS may be a bit harsher that expected. Coming off this drug means not only typical withdrawal, but the forewarned panic attacks with flashbacks on maximum volume.

This roller coaster sucks, and I’m stuck on it for a little while. Might as well throw my arms up for the picture.

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