About two weeks ago, I posted that I had had a really bad night. That was nothing compared to last night. For those that have never read any of my posts, my anxiety centers around a fear that I am having heart trouble.

I was about three quarters of the way through a therapy session when I started feeling tingly and flushed. I told my counselor, and he just started telling me that it was just my limbic system trying to keep my mind of my fear. I got out of therapy and drove home. When I got home, my feelings hadn't changed, so I told my dad about them. He started going into his regular monologue about how I should "get mad at it" and "make fun of it" in spite of my insistence that these things don't work for me. After about thirty minutes, it really hit me. My arms and face felt tingly, I felt a little bit out of my body, and my heart was beating pretty fast (140 bpm). I stood up and walked over to my dad and told him that I thought I was having a real problem. A problem that wouldn't go away by itself. Something medical. My arms and legs felt like lead. My upper body felt like it was going to sleep. A real pins and needles feeling. I was terrified. My dad told me to stand up straight and walk outside with him. I did so, and started to feel a little better. Not great, just better. We went back inside, and I laid down for about forty-five minutes. My heart was still beating pretty fast when I got up to go to the bathroom. When I stood up, it felt like I was being thumped in the chest with a fist. I walked all the way to the bathroom, and it kept happening. I got back to the couch, and told my dad what had happened. He told me to stand up again. I did, and it happened again. It was a little less severe, though. As I stood there, the thumping lightened up then stopped altogether. I was stilled scared, though. I sat down for awhile, and got up again. Nothing happened, but I freaked myself out anyway. Then, my dad went into his room and came out with a quarter of the smallest dose of Xanax they make. I told him that I didn't want to self-medicate, but I wasn't in the right state of mind to refuse. I took it. Since it was so small, it didn't have any huge effect on me, but it took the edge off of my panic and I started calming down. I feel bad for self-medicating, but I am reassured because there is no more Xanax in the house to tempt me.

I'll end this with a question: have any of yall ever had a panic attack that lasted for hours, even if it was off and on?

~R0land