In the depths of an episode it is impossible to write. It hurts to much to write. One can barely breathe without the assistance some impossible weight on the chest, usually strong hands on a cushion. And writing involves breathing and hands. For me dictating is out of the question. I have never been the talking type.

So when the four flavours of fear were fresh in my mind, they were also terrifying and not the kind of thing you’d want to revisit. But I am getting a sneaking then settling suspicion that fluoxetine changes me almost completely.

But first the flavours, in the order that I experienced them.

1. The b-flick one. It feels like a scare tactic in a cheap horror movie.  The one that jumps out of nowhere and punches you in the face several times a day. This was the worst of them all. Whereas previously I experienced anxiety as a kind of passive worry, this was aggressive and sneaky. It’ll come from nowhere or maybe it’s triggered by the everyday — just the thought that these are the last days of normalcy / happiness. Or it could even be triggered by memories, even happy ones, the thought that those days are over forever. Or as I imagined, “Mom is dead, but her corpse is displayed in the living room.”
2. The one that feels like a free fall, the vertiginous one. Some people describe this as a feeling of rocking back on two legs of a chair and it’s the moment when you know you’re falling. I think it is far worse than that. No part of you is on the ground, and there is a much longer way to fall.
3. The alarm clock. I get awakened by a scare attack every morning. It happens usually around 4am in the morning and then maybe again at 7 or so. It feels like a very disruptive / unpleasant wake-up call, a reminder that all your problems are still here and have gone nowhere — thanks, I really needed that.
4. The delayed cold sweat. This one is the mildest of them all. It feels like the benzes leaving your body. I experienced it after a few weeks after I restarted on 30mg fluoxetine. It is similar to an early morning panic wake-up call. But much milder and very physical. It feels like some kind of cold sweat that moves through you from head to toe. Shortly after this the attacks subsided.
5. Edited to add: There’s a fifth one that’s more intellectual than the rest. The thought that all the shit is going to hit the fan at the same time, the rock and the hard place are closing in, and the only way out is down.

Details are forgotten, for better or worse. Emotions are blunted. It is how it becomes possible to write about it. I am not a fearless correspondent who can report from the trenches, while bargaining with God, Buddha and neurochemicals.

Edited to add: I need to add an edit link to each post. It’s not possible with the Hello Theme so I’ll have to use some code snippet, I believe.