Yesterday, I went to the out-of-hours walk-in clinic with our dear cleaning lady in the throes of my third or fourth morning in a daily panic attack. I was convinced I was going completely bonkers, my brain was delighting in torturing me, and there was no way out of this hell.

But, as it turns out, I’m not nuts.

It’s just that with some antidepressants like the one I’m on, you feel worse before you feel better (I’ve been on it for a week and they take about a month to get beneficial results). I asked for something to curb the panic attacks so I have a chance at functioning, so got permission to take Diazepam 3 times a day.

Going to see the doctor on Monday.

Yesterday, after regularly scheduled doses of Diazepam, I did not, for the first time in a long time, feel like the lowest level of prehistoric frog shit. I even managed to knit a little on the Seaspray Shawl! I hope I can do some more of that today.

Baby steps, man. Baby steps.