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Panic.

It was yesterday. It was dark. It was sometime just after eight o'clock in the evening. I was lying in my bed alone at home, with the lights off and the curtains open - I always sleep with the curtains open. I could hear light rain pattering onto the earths surface outside. I have always loved the sound of outside rain when laying in my bed, but this moment, I was barely thinking straight.
I was trying to relax. All day long, and, for a good three weeks or so, I had been feeling light-headed, nauseous, barely able to eat - even after working out, cold, and somewhat conflicted mentally and emotionally. Rest and relaxation seemed the best idea, and doing so in dark silence, is generally the best way.

But as the minutes passed, I started finding myself feeling like breathing was becoming harder and harder. As this happened, I felt colder, distant from my own body, and as if my mind was slowly cracking up deep in the heart of my conscious thought. I cannot explain how it truly felt, not yet anyway.  For a moment, I wondered whether I was going to turn into another Syd Barrett - gone so far in the head, that even rationality was out of the question.
In the entire day, I had eaten only one bowl of bran flakes, and one bowl of porridge. I had drunk a couple of coffees in Starbucks while writing, but even the experience of feeling this way in a place I have become all too familiar with, only made my head feel as if it was a pressure cooker about to explode. So I needed both food and to do something regular, to get my mind back on track. I pulled my naked body out of the bed, whipped on a pair of grew sweat bottoms from the cupboard, and attempted to walk downstairs to make myself a glass of desperately needed water. 

By the time my bare feet reached the cold floor of the kitchen, and I had switched the light on, my legs felt like they were made of weak jelly, my body wanted to collapse, my heart was racing and pounding like a jackhammer, my head was spinning all over the place, and I felt my ability to breathe dissipate - as if my lungs were growing smaller and smaller. For about three to five minutes of my life - I genuinely felt as if I was going to die.
During this short yet intense experience, I had crouched down - still on my feet, but my bare back leaning against my washing machine. I imagined being found lying on the floor of the kitchen unconscious, wondering if I would last long enough in this state to be saved. I somehow managed to grab a cup and fill it with cold tap water, then gulp it down in a very quick motion. The breathing was getting heavier, every pain was pounding and pushing. I spoke verbally and openly to myself 'What the fuck is going on?' I asked? I was scared, but I wasn't going to give in.. whatever this shit was. 'Compose yourself, man. This is gonna be a rough night'. I spoke again. A few minutes had passed, and as always when the fight or flight response is needed, I chose to fight the barstad all the way.
I slowly gathered my breath, found a secure place in my mind, stood up, and said the words 'fuck you!' to wherever this feeling was coming from. I wasn't going to let it beat me - even though it was scary as hell. I had to remain a fighter. Somehow, I manged to crack open, separate, and cook three egg whites in the microwave, then eat them. I felt naked, afraid, and more than anything else, completely alone.

Ten minutes later, i was calm. I was sitting against the wall of my bedroom, as a quilt sat draped over me. I was still a little shell shocked. I knew I was and still am going through a rough patch, but never until this point had stress actually made me physically ill, so much so that as I thought about it, the harsh realizaion came punching me firmly in the mind; I had just experienced someting in my life which I never believed would ever come my way - I experienced a panic attack. And it scared the living shit out of me. I never thought it would happen to me. I never thought it would happen.

I have not fully recovered. I still feel breathless, my head a little light. I now realize I am both very fragile and incredibly strong too. This experience will make me stronger, as the trials of adversity always do - and perhaps I needed to see this to put myself right.Not just for me, but for every last person in this life who wish me good fortune and happiness; I am lucky to have so many people like this.

The outer world today has seemed perhaps more human than it ever has to me, and, even though I feel more than capable of handing all these stresses and worries life throws at me, I feel great empathy for those who cannot. It is not my place to judge them, and only wish that nobody reading this ever experiences what is without question one of the most intense, painful and scary fucking feelings you are ever likely to feel. And, if you already have, and a couple of people reading this I know have been in this God awful position - I now know exactly what you meant, when you told me about it. And anyone who says it easy to deal with, has obviously never dealt with it.

Tomorrow I spend the day with Marissa, which will in no doubt pick me up. But tonight, through personal choice - I am alone. And tonight I rest. I am going to relax by watching some television, as I do not do it very often these days. I was going to view 'The Long Con', one of my favourite episodes of Lost. But instead opt for a viewing of the Hulk Hogan classic, 'No Holds Barred'. I am quite sure it will be shit... but in a good way.

Lee.

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