Today's therapy session was all about "exposure therapy." One of the triggers that I have found with my panic attacks is height --not the lack thereof like my short-stature (although also bothersome) rather being up high in a tall building. With that in mind, we met today at a local hotel in hopes of inducing a panic attack. I had been both dreading and looking forward to this appointment all week; dreading it because, well, for obvious reasons, having a panic attack sucks. But, I was also eager to put some of my new techniques and strategies to use and kick some panic's butt!
Only problem was, apparently panic didn't get the memo and decided not to show up. Rude bastard. We tried everything to convince him to come visit. Rode up and down a glass elevator with me staring straight down. Got off on the top floor and leaned over the railing. "Trapped" myself in the stairwell....and, a big fat nothing!! Sure, I felt the slightest bit of uneasiness, but nothing I couldn't handle. Thanks a lot, panic(and no, I'm not going to capitalize your name; you don't deserve it)! After all the times you showed up when I didn't want you to and now the one time I need you, you can't even make an appearance! What did I ever do to you except allow you in when you weren't even invited?! Am I losing my touch or something? What, not cute enough for you anymore? See if I ever call you back again!
So, I left the appointment without a chance to practice the skills but a little smuggishly happy thinking that maybe I've made enough progress that I can't even tempt panic to make an appearance anymore. I know it's not gone forever, but maybe he finally got the hint to stay away for a bit longer...at least until next week when we're stepping it up a notch....or 20 to a taller building. Here's your warning, panic; I'll even shave for you...Be there!!
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