Returning to places where I’ve had traumatic panic attacks is one of the regular occurances in my life.

Waiting rooms.

The smell of a doctors office, the people around you with unknown health problems,  too far away to hide anywhere if I wanted to.

I remind myself that coming here every week or two is good for me because it gets me out of the house, and hopefully it’ll end up finding me answers to my struggles.

But the bad associations are hard to ignore.

I’m calm right now but very fragile and afraid. I tapped before I left, and sat with a heating pad for my morning cramps. Which I think helped momentarily.

She’s gonna weigh me this time, and I’ve lost about 8 pounds since she last weighed me,  just due to me not eating enough from lack of appetite. 

So we’ll see if she scolds me for that. 

Just tired of expecting panic, fear, symptoms, at every trigger or corner.