I've been around people with panic attacks, but I've never had one. At least I've never recognized one. Last night, I crawled into bed, and the ceiling stared spinning, the walls closed in, my chest tightened, and my brain was going a million miles an hour. I lay there for hours, with this same crushing sensation, and then proceeded to not get up and do my usual morning workout. This, of course, just makes me feel worse.
I sometimes wonder why the hell I get myself into these things. I mean, I can say "no," I do a lot. I dunno. I think I have a perverse need to be wanted.
*sigh*
Really, I'm just mad at myself. Why am I overcommitted? Because of my own stupidity. It's my fault, and now I have to live with it.
Of course, CByrd has to live with it, too, which just makes me feel guilty.
