What was so frightening was the physical feeling I experienced. I felt as if my whole body was devoid of oxygen and I couldn't breathe. I became agitated, crying my eyes out and raced to get home before I couldn't see anything at all through my tears. By the time I got home I was breathing so hard I was hyperventilating.
The thoughts that precipitated these guilt-ridden meltdowns have not yet been resolved even though I know they have no basis in fact. I guess this is the emotional price I will pay from time to time unless and until I somehow find a way to feel a sense of peace and healing.
It's been only eight months but it's as raw and crushing today as it has always been. And I still have no idea why these two episodes happened at this time. What does that say about me? I always thought I was a rather strong person. Perhaps I was and still am in most situations. But in this case, this may be the one area where I'm allowed to cry, scream, question and doubt for however long I need to, even if that's until the cows come home!
Maybe I have survivor's guilt, as a friend so delicately put it to me. Maybe so, but I do have days that aren't that bad and they outnumber the meltdowns. Perhaps the cows are thinking of heading home.
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