Stephen Pimley | Daily Life,Illness,Thoughts | Thursday, June 19th, 2014

I am taking it as a sign that the paroxetine has almost completely cleared my system now that spontaneous panic attacks unrelated to anything happening in the present have returned to assail any attempt at peace of mind. So much for my little experiment. I was hoping some of the things I have learned along the way while medicated for the last couple of years would have kept them at bay. I am so drenched in sweat from this anxiety it hasn’t even been eight hours since my last shower and I feel like I need to cleanse myself again. I don’t think anyone without this affliction could understand how debilitating it is when every little random object around the house can thrust the mind deep into a cocoon of the darkest memories. Then there are the totally irrational daydreams about hypothetical worst case scenarios that consume me for hours on end. How could I possibly be any use to the world when I can’t even shampoo my hair without getting lost in the darkness? Did I really shampoo or have I just been running my fingers through my hair all of this time? I can’t remember… I just know that I still feel dirty and another thirty minutes locked in a small steamy room with my demons couldn’t hurt. Never clean, never calm, and never safe. The only comfort I can find anymore comes in watching the horizon for the approaching end. I think I can feel it trickling in and it tastes a whole lot like stale sweat and goodbyes dead on my lips.

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