Last night was the first time in awhile that I've had a panic attack like that. My grandmother used to get them when we were growing up and they would scare the hell out of me. I knew she had problems, what with raising three grandchildren she didn't have to, but I couldn't fathom how things would get so bad that she would occasionally break down in a panic attack. Well now I know. Sometimes, no matter how strong you are, or how put together you are, sometimes life happens to be a little bit too much more than you can handle. And then you're sitting on your couch, with your cat, freaking out over the demands of your life, and wishing you had some valium to calm your ass down.
Or at least that's what happened to me. In the light of day, I am feeling much better. I'm usually a go with the flow kind of person but sometimes theres too much flow to go with. Patience is supposed to be a virtue and if I can just keep that mantra going in my head maybe I'll be able to survive the next several weeks at my job. And if that doesn't work I'm sure I could take a trip to the gun range this weekend to pop of a few rounds. That'll be sure to make me feel better.