Panic

Panic attacks are horrible. They started when Shawn deployed, happened every so often during that nine months, got much worse after he died, went away completely while I was pregnant with Cadence, came back with a vengeance when Henry was in Korea, for the most part went away when he came home, and starting last month, reached a horrible crescendo. I do not want this, this panic disorder. I did not ask for it, and I do not want it. Have you ever had a panic attack? I feel like I'm dying. My chest hurts and is so tight that I can't breathe. It's scary, especially when I'm alone with Cadence. I am so sure I am dying. And even though I know exactly what it is, even though I know it's a panic attack and that it will pass after I take my medicine, it's nearly impossible for me to believe that I'm not dying during one. The one today was so horrible I almost called an ambulance. I was terrified, not only for me, but for Cadence as well. I could not breathe, I could not think about anything except that I was about to die in front of my child. And the more I thought that, the worse it got, of course. I have been trying not to take my medicine, because I hate it and thought I was done with it for good. But after 20 minutes of being sure I was dying I took some. I just want this to go away. Or if not then I wish there was a medicine for anxiety attacks that isn't a benzodiazepine or a sedative. I hate this. Haven't I been through enough? And yet I have to deal with this too? And it isn't fair to Cadence that Mommy freaks out and thinks she's dying. She deserves better than that. I want her to have better than that. Why can't they just stop, go away, and leave me alone? That shouldn't be so much to ask. I don't want Cadence growing up watching Mommy like that. It scares her. I'm not sure what else to do except take the stupid medicine when I need to, and I hate that too. But, I guess, it's the lesser of two evils.