It’s funny. For the past couple years, I’ve been getting panic attacks every time I go to an event. The first time, it was an anomaly that I chalked up to mental health and the looming suspicion that the event would get canceled (it did, just as I was leaving). The second time, i thought it was perhaps trauma from the first time. As months progressed, however, I realized this was something having to do with me.
Before Love Burn was exceptionally bad. I was in total paralysis, unable to sleep or eat, breaking down in tears and all that. There were a number of secret, hidden hyperventilating sobs. I would have benefitted greatly from a hug and a paper bag to breathe into foe help managing my stress.
So now I sit here at 2am, the night before leaving for an event, cool as a cucumber, packed up and ready for work.
I guess there’s something to be said about doing familiar things, even if they’re familiar things that I know will bring discomfort. Comfort in the routine, I suppose.
