When Will It End?

For almost a year now, I have been battling anxiety and panic attacks. Some days are better than others, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about what brought me to such an ultimate low in my life. Not a week goes by that I don’t have that nagging doubt in the back of my head that says, “This life is nothing. You are nothing. This world is nothing.” Not a month goes by that allows me to forget that I am not a normally functioning human being, and that I will never be the way I used to be.

Some people have panic attacks and anxiety because of childhood traumas or horrible tragedies. Mine started with a story I read one day on a news site and researching the darker aspects of it that involved conspiracy theories. Stupid, yes, but it ingrained itself deeply into my head and royally screwed me up. I am almost embarrassed to admit that that is the reasoning behind my panic and anxiety. It is inane compared to what other people have gone through. Nonetheless, it is my problem, and it has impacted my life in ways that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies.

Yesterday afternoon was the happiest day of this month for me. We went to a barbecue and I interacted and functioned semi-normally for two hours with my husband’s acquaintances. Sure, I had the, “Oh gosh, they probably think I’m an ignorant twat” thought process going on, but I managed to stifle it and at least come across as semi-intelligent, even though I was dressed like a thrift store reject and had no makeup on. I did not dwell on the darker parts of my mind, but enjoyed a beer with some people and watched the kidlets play. I laughed and joked and smiled a lot. I did not want to leave. I felt NORMAL.

Today, that feeling came crashing down, which is why I’m writing this now. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sick all day, due to coming off of Prednisone. Maybe my body is becoming accustomed to the Paxil again. Maybe it is because I read the news and it sucked. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I’m feeling really panicky right now, and I just want it to stop. I’ve already taken Xanax, so I’m a little less edgy, but I can still feel the fear in the back of my mind.

So how much more can I take? I’ve already upped my Paxil dosage once (and it looks like it will happen again) and have pretty much become dependent on Xanax to get me through those nights when I feel less than stellar. Will I always be on medication for these feelings, or will they eventually fade out? What happens 10, 20, 30, or even 40 years down the road, if my mind lets me function that long? What happens to my husband and my son? Will they always be stuck with a woman who is mentally broken and fearful of going out and living a full life?

I hate this feeling. I hate being so scared of everything. Most of all, I hate being scared of life and the future. What kind of life am I leading if all I’m going to do is cower in the corner and shake in fear?