Last night's anxiety attack was actually quite illuminating - I don't think I've ever really understood how much I incorporate denial into my everyday routine. I'd rather not get into how I came to that conclusion, though - and that's not another denial tactic, it's more that I'm rather frantically busy today and I don't want to start hyperventilating again. It's no wonder that I can't take LSD without freaking out, let's put it that way - I can't possibly let my brain relax without having major heart palpitations. Funny, now that I think about it, last night's attack reminded me a great deal of how I physically felt when I had my bad trip, waaay back in '94.
It's strange how ever since I got on my little "health kick" and started eating better and quit smoking I've actually been feeling worse in certain respects. And the anxiety stems directly from not knowing my vital health statistics.
Anyway - on August 2, at 10am, I'll at least finally know if I'm really dying or if I'm just convinced I'm dying.
On a realted note - there are two window-cleaners directly outside my boss' office, just hangin' out and swaying with the breeze, 13 floors up. I'm getting vertigo just looking at them.