No Dreams Are Too Big. But Some Are Dumb

I had THE most idiotic attack tonight.

Id just finished journaling about how my boyfriend has seen me at my worst, and that no matter what, I, and my illness will never be harder to deal with then we already have been. "..Unless dad dies, or I get cancer..or an earthshattering flu again! Those would indeed be set backs, but I think that no matter what, I am going to be strong enough to survive anything, better then I used to be able to!"

Then I have a very cozy nap. And that coziness was interrupted by a dream about me having a baby, and the baby started barfing. And then I started barfing because we had..drumroll please..THE FLU.

I mean, are you effing kidding me?

So I wake up, and before I can stop it, my brain has gone to wild and dark places, and my body has tagged along like a pathetic little puppy.

I AM NOT SICK. I kept telling myself that. I am fine, it's not even FLU SEASON! And even if it was..I would survive it! Dad is home, and I have drugs this time! Back when that last flu/panic cycle/my own personal hell hit, I was inexperienced, and all out of Ativan. I have that under my belt now! And I have drugs! So I shouldn't need to worry. And by worry, I mean shake and choke up, and start boiling inside out.

It was interesting though, even before the drugs kicked in and cleared my head, I was honestly able to decipher the fact that the entire episode was all in my head. I know that all of anxiety starts in your head, but I am often able to justify them with tangible evidence. This time though, I KNEW that it was my head running away with an awful idea planted in my brain by my journaling subconscious.

I think that's a positive thing, something to celebrate. Maybe not balloons and cupcake celebration worthy, but a silent, 'YAY ME' is allowed. I mean, I am getting a better grip on this, if I can draw lines and realize realities while in the midst of something so awful, right?