I've always used my position as a message board moderator and a website owner as a sort of confessional. It seems to help me, and people have been kind enough to tell me that they enjoy it. So let me tell you about the worst week of my life.

I guess it was inevitable. Twenty years of being a machinist, struggling to hold tolerances, when any wrong move can mean a catastrophic error. I don't know many older machinists who are not either addicts or absolutely bugfuck crazy.

Add to that a childhood with precious little emotional support. I have always been fiercely independent. A rock. Being the arrogant ass I was, I dismissed those with mental or emotional problems.

Of course all my friends know that I lost my loved ones a few years ago. I haven't gotten over it, even though at times I felt as though I had. Too many miserably lonely nights. Too many tears. You can't go on forever like that.

Then there were a couple of incidents recently where my life was in danger. One was an accident at work, and another was a gunfight in a WalMart that happened right in front of me.

My father died recently, and even though we were far from close, it had a huge effect on me.

Now, even though I knew it was coming, my darling stepdaughter India will be moving to California. I know it won't be impossible to visit, but it will be damned hard. And damned expensive.

Too much loss. Too much stress. Not enough spirituality. Not enough love. I was headed for catastrophe. And it happened last Wednesday night.

I woke up at 2 AM in the midst of the worst fear, terror, panic, of my life. I jerked awake and jumped out of bed. Staggered around the house, alone, in the thralls of absolute panic.

It was, of course, a classic panic/anxiety attack. I had heard about them, but I had no idea how completely debilitating they can be. It's like you are dying. Or having a nervous breakdown.

It subsided, as least to a degree. But I can't shake it. I still feel fear, dread, and overwhelming anxiety all the time. Work has been very hard.

I never thought that I would ever see a therapist, but I made an appointment and saw the doctor on Thursday. She's a nice lady and the talk helped. She doesn't think I need medication. I'm not so sure. I'm going to see her again this coming Thursday and probably for more visits after that.

I'm not so bad off when I'm with people, but when I'm alone, I get the shakes and the anxiety. I can't stop thinking of death, disease, madness.

So I haven't been reading anything. Or watching any horror whatsoever. There's no way I can deal with it for now.

I hope to get better. The analysis is helping, but what's an hour a week?

I don't know what is going to happen. Things seem hopeless right now. They can't stay like this forever. Can they?

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