Tonight I cleaned the cat box. This is a normal occurrence at my house except this time the longer it took (and honestly it only took about 15 minutes) the more out of breathe I felt and the faster my heart beat. There was a deep feeling of dread like something awful was about to happen and as I hunched over this box of sand with a scooper full of poop I felt like my life was going to end. Like seriously, this is one of the most undignified things I do in life (Okay, maybe that’s not true. I mean, I’ve been known to walk into glass walls and sing to my cat….sober. Actually I just asked Levi and he claims I’m middle of the road, “You can be normal in certain situations.” Thanks kid.) and I’m freaking out about basically nothing.
Most of the time this is what it’s like. No particular reason for me to be worried or out of sorts, but then it hits me and my heart is racing and I can’t breathe. Sometimes I tear up and other times (luckily not too often) I outright start bawling. For those of you who don’t know much about this disorder, mine is a more mild case. I can hang on to my emotions long enough to get to an appropriate place to let them out. Of course this is because it actually causes me more anxiety to think of freaking out in front of people so I’ve trained myself to hide it until I can let it go. This has taken years of practice. But then I eventually calm back down.
Tonight’s remedy of choice is a nice cool glass of Pinot Grigio. It was between that and an ativan and since I’d like to stay up to a more decent adult bedtime I chose the faster acting, shorter lasting glass of wine. Plus, it tastes better.