Fire

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I needed this day to be over before it began. I didn't handle it well. I ran myself into the ground, but I'm still wound.

As a Christian, is it alright to say I've suffered an anxiety attack? I don't really know anymore. A while ago, I denied anxiety and depression in Jesus' Name, and I thought that made me well. My faith made me well. What changed?

What happened this morning was in my head, but it was as real to me as drowning. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. I couldn't make it stop. I didn't think it would end. I begged Jesus to help me. I believe He did. I laid on the cool tile floor in the living room and pet my dog until I felt the pressure lift. My mind slowed down. I could feel the air in my lungs again.

The rest of the day was okay, but it was rough. Decisions were more difficult. Processing information was slower. Time didn't seem to line up with my mind. I was either 99 miles ahead or behind. I got it done, though. I got back in the car, put air in the tire, did the grocery shopping, attempted to clean my parents' house (not completed due to President Bush's funeral), and even made dinner and cleaned the kitchen with Tommy. I also vacuumed and cleaned the litter box and swept. I did research on external hard drives and stuff I don't understand. But I couldn't stop myself. Even now, my heart is racing and my mind wants me to move. My eyes feel as if they are pried open. Go...go...go...

This wasn't a good day. But I didn't fall apart completely. I'm still here. Tomorrow will be better, because I believe in New Mercies. My God will get me through this and out of this.

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