again and again and again, it comes for me

February 22, 2008

The last fews days have seen a resurgence in panic attacks. It seems everywhere I look there’s a reminder of my own mortality, spurring them on time and time again. Seriously, how do you people do it? How do you keep going with the knowledge it could all be over in the blink of an eye? How do you not dread not knowing what comes next, if anything?

While the rest of my life is in relative order, I can’t get my head straight. I am consumed by these thoughts and that feeling of helplessness. Hopelessness. I know there’s medication, but I don’t think it will stop the terror. Why must I, now, be going what can only be out of my mind?




  1. I think the only sensible thing you can do at this point is to kill your neighbors and eat their brains to gain their knowledge.

  2. and, in other words, since you can’t control it, and you have obviously tried… the only step left is to see a doctor.

  3. Oh yeah, that whole, “see a doctor” thing. I never thought of that.

    I mean, really Walin.

  4. When is enough really enough? When does the fear associated with being “Wailin” get to a point where that fear meets common sense? Daniel is a little scary, so go with Josy. See a doctor!

    People navigate the road of life, always knowing that death is inevitable, but enjoying the journey while it lasts. That is all you can do. And stop worrying about what is on the other side. It will be beautiful.

  5. Isn’t it crazy that they’re married and trying to breed? It will be the most emo kid ever. And it will be awesome at EVE. lol

    It’s hard to pinpoint causes for this. I’ll be sitting watching a movie, laying with our son on the couch, and look at him and it will hit me that one day I won’t be there for him. Or you won’t. Or anyone who loves him. Or god forbid he be taken away. And then I wanna throw up.

    I’m driving home from work and there’s a truck in front of me hauling a bunch of scrap metal. It crosses my mind that all it could take is a bump in the road and one pole could fly off the back, smash through my windshield, and impale me.

    Or I could choke while noone’s around.

    Or I could just have a heart attack.

    Lung cancer is likely in my future.

    Or I’ll get mugged and shot. And I don’t even live in a dangerous area of town.

    Or I’ll just close my eyes, on the verge of sleep, then open them and realize an hour’s gone by and I didn’t even know it. I think that’s what death might be like, except you don’t wake up adn realize you’re alive. I can’t believe the way you do.

    But most of the time, I’m okay. Didn’t have one at all today. But what about tomorrow? And I’m not even living my life at this point, just working, sleeping, shitting, and eating.

  6. What you are describing is EXACTLY what I went through when Alyson was born. It got bad enough that I would have physical chest pain. I said, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. I can’t be a good parent if this keeps happening. I went to the doctor, they were super understanding (who would have thought a doctor has seen this kind of thing before?).

    So, the explanation of what is happening and why it is happening is a mute point. I want to know the explanation of why you don’t go to the doctor. What is truly keeping you from the doctor

  7. Because that’s when you find out you ARE crazy. You don’t think you are. You know. And other people know. And you have to take pills, and you know that’s the only thing keeping you from flipping out. And other people know. And then people will worry if you’re on your meds or not because you had a mood swing, or were sad for an actual reason, or happy.

    Because I don’t want to KNOW I’m going crazy any more than I would want to know I have incurable cancer.Is that strange? I’m afraid to actually be mentally unstable? It runs in my family, you see. My grandfather flipped out and killed my grandmother. My mom is undeniably crazy. My dad’s got social issues. My older brother has severe depression. My younger brother is damned near morbidly obese. I don’t want to be one of them. I’ve done all I can to NOT be. Going crazy is another way to say ‘I’m just like thiese white trash bastards from whose loins I sprung.’

    And maybe it’s because I don’t want to find out that all this time I’m not me. That the me I am is only because I’m unbalanced and fucked up.

  8. You are NOTHING like your family. I couldn’t have stuck around for 8 years if you were even kind of like them.

    The story of your grandfather is a REALLY screwed up story which is much more deep and eerie than him just killing your grandmother. But we will not go into that.

    I honestly do not think your mom is crazy, I do think she is bipolar. She is morbidly obese and would rather face the prospect of death due to her weight than get free surgery.

    I think your dad is a piece of shit, but I think he has such horrible anti-social disorder that he simply cannot cope most of the time. But you know what, he shows up to work every day. That’s a good thing.

    Your older brother is extremely overweight and is terrified of people, just like your dad. He has convinced your parents that he is not all there mentally and they actually believe it. He is so lazy and worthless! But, I will say that he has a good heart. He saved me from your mother 9 years ago!

    Your little brother IS morbidly obese. He is also dirty. I know that sounds horrible, but your parents do not make him shower, brush his teeth, take care of himself in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, he is always filthy! But he’s a good kid. His furture could be promising if he leads himself and doesnt follow in your families footsteps.

    You: You’re a good person. You have a great heart. You always do what is right, even when it pisses people off. You aren’t afraid to cry when you’re sad or laugh when your having fun. You interact with people and cherish your friends (for the most part). You are NOTHING like your family.

  9. Ecept for the craziness. X /

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