A couple of weeks ago, my usual evening anxiety — tight chest, unsettled stomach and dread that followed almost everything I did — started leaking into the rest of the day.
I mostly lay down. Ate leftover pork, then lay down. Edited six pages, lay down. I tried to sleep. But sharp, gasping panic squeezed my eyes and fists shut.
Talking to my therapist and psychiatrist over the phone helped me pull through. With their suggestions, the discomfort slowly lifted.
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