It's starting again.
I've always loved driving. It's my peace. Clears my head, lets me think things through. Apparently lately... that's not a good thing.
It started last week. I was feeling off-kilter all week, like I was seeing through wax paper and couldn't quite get my feet under me. Then Friday it started. I got to work and BAM. Overthinking... heart pounding... cold sweat... world turning... I ran into the freezer and sat with my head between my legs for 10 minutes and stayed busy the rest of the time.
Then Saturday, I headed out to work. Didn't even make it five miles before I knew it was coming. So I sat, and called into work saying I was going to be late because of traffic. I... I don't want them to know about this yet. Finally made it to work at 6:30, an hour late because Mike had to drive me... and stayed busy the whole time again.
Sunday I made it even less far. Mom had to drive me. Luckily Sunday brunch is my busiest shift, plus I was training a new girl.
Today I had to drive my car to the shop. 10 miles away. I nearly didn't make it. On the way home Dad was furious.
"You need to fucking figure this shit out before you get worse."
Gee, thanks Dad.
It's not like it's my fault. I would kill to no longer be this way.
I guess my pills aren't working.
I hate this.