Monday, May 19, 2008


I was running some errands the other day when I had a full blown anxiety attack. I have not experienced this kind of anxiety for many years since I have been on medication. Sure, I've had bouts of slight social phobia and a sense of having lost my mojo now and then, but not a smack in the gut anxiety attack. I mentioned my plight later to a few friends who all asked what I reckoned was the trigger. I figure it was triggered by going into the Home Depot or that the Home Depot experience put me over the top.

Anyway, I left Home Depot with very little of what I went there to get and rushed home to safety where I managed to calm down considerably before I had to go out again. I managed to get the dog to the vet (he has some tick borne disease) and to pick up the car at the dealer. I even went to choir practice, all the while in a state of extreme anxiety. I don't think anyone noticed. If they did, they probably figured I was just another asshole.

By the time I went to the office the next day, I had calmed down to a moderately anxious state, whereat I hovered all weekend and where I remain at this moment. This would not be a big deal, I suppose, if I were not accustomed to feeling pretty good most of the time. I had begun to think of every day as a wonderful gift. Maybe that's the trigger. I know I don't deserve to feel so happy so some dreadful consequence is bound to befall me. Also, I had to go into the city to see a play (Patrick Stewart in MacBeth) and I drove too far eastward and ended up at frakking Times Square with all the douchebag pedestrians and incompetent New York drivers. We were late! Aaaghgh! The ladies got out and ran to the Lyceum, while we husbands looked to park. We ended up ten minutes late and were seated in the dark in the highest section in what seemed like a row of seats attached to El Capitan. It was so steep that I felt my acrophobia kick in, at which point the old hiatal hernia gave me crushing chest pains.

Aside from that, the play was pretty good. I felt quitely proud that I was able even to contemplate going into the city while in the throes of the demon. I could never have done that back in the days before I was medicated, let me tell you, not without a good stiff drink or twelve.

What's up with my meds, I wonder. I haven't changed them or the dosage except to increase it for some time. Do they just quit working sometimes? Is it possible that I should be anxious and just can't tell because I see anxiety as a signal that does not signify?

Endogenous anxiety is like having a door bell that rings all the time, even when nobody is there to ring it. It's like a phone that rings all day and night whether or not anyone is calling. It's like a smoke alarm that never stops beeping whether or not there is smoke. It's like a terror alert system that never goes below orange no matter what the real danger might be. It's like an air raid siren that sounds incessantly even when there are no enemy planes.

I felt this way 24/7 for years before I found out that medications were available and that this feeling was not a necessary aspect of being. It makes me anxious to feel anxious like this for so many days.

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