Tired. I just can't get going in the morning. The heat at night and the fan blowing on me as I sleep seems to suck my energy out of my body. I remember always feeling this tired during the summers of my youth. I thought I would outgrow this type of exhaustion, this feeling of being wiped out. My whole being seems to need a detox. No coffee. No Coke. No high fructose corn syrup. Maybe then I won't go through sugar and caffeine crashes. Maybe then I won't feel so tired.
When I dropped off of the Internet, it wasn't meant to be a years long sabbatical. I thought I just needed a break; that I was getting burned out from writing Basement Songs and movie reviews for Popdose.com. Something cracked, though, and I couldn't consider writing even in a journal for a very long time. Things changed in the winter of 2017. While driving to pick up Jacob at theater rehearsal, I experienced my first panic attack. It started immediately after he got in the car at the theater and it slowly took over my body for the fifteen minute drive home. My skin became clammy and I felt myself removed from my body. My brain was empty and I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I gutted it out until we walked through the front door. Without saying a word, I went upstairs, crawled into bed and got in the fetal position. I just wanted to close my eyes and shut out the world. The next morning I awoke exhausted, as if I'd exercised the previous day. That was the first time
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