Panic, again

So I just called into work because I'm PMSing and therefore am thinking like a crazy person again.  It's got me thinking if I should start weening off my medication now and getting on some birth control again.  This is getting to be too much.  So yeah, I'm getting ready to go to work and I get this awful sense of panic.  My brain starts screaming,"What are you doing??" and I'm all like, "I'm going to work,..."  and my brain starts screaming, "Why??? You hate your job! You don't want to go."  Again I responded to the irrational side saying, "I dislike my job.  It's not ideal but it's not a bad job.  You have to do things you don't want to do sometimes.  This is life."    My brain then went off, "yes.  This is your life.  You've settled for mediocrity.  You've settled for just getting by and joining the rat race.   Is that what you want?  Do you want mediocrity?  Do you want to live the rest of your life this way?  This is your job.  This is your life.  You are Mediocre!  You've wasted all these years since college.  You're throwing it all away because of those justifications.  'It's good enough' blah blah blah."  My thought are on a roll and I'm powerless to stop them.

I feel the panic begin to rise.  My body starts to heat up and my palms start to sweat.  Deep down I knew I was being unreasonable and I tried to find the words to fight the negative self talk but it just backfired on me.  Suddenly I was reeling for thoughts of my own inadequacy.  "Really, you can't even convince yourself to do your job?  Do you realize that the majority of people in the world don't want to go to work and they do it anyway?  You should be going to work!  GO TO WORK!!"  My whole throat has now constricted.  My sweating hands are shaking to the crazy beat of my heart.  I can feel my breath getting caught in my chest.  "Try holding your breath.  That was how the EMT stopped the panic when he came that time.  Hold it in.  Don't hyperventilate.  It will make it worse."  I take a deep breath and try counting to 8 but only make it to 4.   "I can't breathe.  I can't breathe!  You want me to hold my breath?"

I can hear my thoughts mocking me at this point, "You're pathetic.  Do you realize how pathetic you are?  Go take your panic pill because clearly you can't handle life.  Go! Now!"  My inner voice is that of frustrated parent fed up with the small child's antics.  Tears streaming down my face, I make my way into the kitchen, struggle with opening the bottle because my hands are too sweaty and shaking.  I pop it open and swallow the pill.  "There.  You feel better?  Don't worry, you will.  Now call your work and tell them how pathetic you are and that you can't function because you're a crazy and expect to go into work and have them fire you tomorrow.  They should fire you, you know?  They are so accommodating and you can't even do your part.  You're such a loser."

 When I called I didn't actually say any of that.  Just that I could make it in.  I needed FMLA.  My boss told me to feel better but I can sense the slight irritation in her voice.  It's almost imperceptible.  Maybe I'm imagining it?  Honestly, she has every right to be frustrated with me.  I was sick on Friday and crazy on Monday.  The major symptoms of the panic have subsided.  The self loathing still remains.  It comes and then is replaced my numbness then comes back again.   Sigh.  What am I going to do with me?