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Tomorrow will be 2 months since my Dad died. I still don’t know if its under horrible or terrible circumstances. In regards to news or updates nothing has really changed, except me. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know exactly when it happened, but something has.

I cry a lot these days. I can’t stop myself anymore, and it’s not the usual tears. It’s almost violent, its abrupt and its scares me. So far it seems to happen mainly when I’m driving, which I do a lot. I remember in primary school I was taught that driving later on in life becomes an automatic thinking process because it becomes so routine that eventually we can get to Point A to Point B with out remembering any of what happens in between. That numbness of routine is were it seems to lurk from.

As I drive to and from work, maybe as of the last two or three days, its become increasingly consistent. I’m not sure if they would be considered panic attacks, normal anxiety, episodes of depression. Either way, its paralyzing, and each time it gets worse.

On the way to a work meeting today around 2pm it started. I parked the car, fixed my make up, and pretended like nothing happened. The meeting finished, I went back in the car and it started again. I arrived at my sisters house, fixed my make up, and pretended like nothing happened. Had to go back to work, went back in the car… you can see where I’m going with this.

This last incident on my way home was probably so far the most intense. I ended up pulling to the side of the road half way home because I couldn’t drive anymore. My eyes were too blurred from the tears, my breathing became too erratic I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the pain of the abrupt bouts of forced oxygen and the upsetting sounds that felt deafening which I couldn’t help but make. This isn’t how I usually cry, I can choose my breaths, my severity. I can change my thinking, and I can flick the kill switch to make it go away. Now, there is no sign of an emergency off button, no sign of taming whatever is causing these attacks. Before I used to comfort myself in optimism, in self control, in the idea ‘it’s all in my mind, and I can change my way of thinking’. Over the last two months I must of abused this skill, and now it’s broken.

Before I used to believe that this mourning process wasn’t about it getting easier, people just get better at dealing with it. I must still have a long way to go. Because I think everything’s just starting.

The idea of working now terrifies me, I’m so bubbly and happy that I think that must be where all my energy goes. If each car trip gets worse, what happens if it starts to seep in the routine of work. Its happened once before, I stopped before it got too intense… That was back when I could stop it.

A part of me thinks that this might be because I’m not writing anymore, that I’m not talking about it like I used to and now all the little things that I used to extrapolate on before has built up when I wasn’t looking. Now its out of my control.

Till next time x

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