These panic attacks are getting to be a bit much. I'm depending more and more on my Clonazepam, which I haven't really done in a few months. Now I'm taking them twice a day. I feel like I can't breathe, and when I do my deep breathing exercises, I just can't get enough air into my lungs. I feel like I'm drowning. I need to find and study my DBT handbook from when I went through the intensive program. I ended up quitting the every Friday program. It just wasn't for me. I did ask for a referral to a regular therapist, though, who can see me after 5. I really don't want to go to a therapist, but I feel like it needs to be done. Hell, something needs to be done.
I feel like my house is falling apart and that's part of the reason I feel so anxious sometimes. I feel like so much is expected of me. I seriously, totally, 100% HATE putting away clean clothes, and that means folding them, too. So the clean laundry piles up until Nick politely asks, "Ummm, do I have socks and underwear somewhere?" It's a treasure hunt, love. Go find it.
Then I'll clean a room, and everyone will walk in and see all that clean space so they dump all their shit their. Seriously? I feel absolutely no appreciation whatsoever in this house. If I could blow big raspberries at everybody and not have them think I'm joking, I totally would. It's so frustrating.
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