Sometimes I get awful blogger's block, because there's only one thing I want to write about, and yet I have no earthly wish to write about that one thing. And yet I can't write about anything else until I've written about that one thing. And so on.
(NB This is how you got treated to the 'synaesthetic orgasms' post a few months back, for which I am sure you are all profoundly grateful, especially my dad.)
So for a few days I've been thinking that I *must* write a post about my terrible panic attacks, because having terrible panic attacks is taking up an inordinate amount of my time at the moment, and I thought maybe I could exorcise them by writing about them on my blog, and then I wouldn't have to go back on the medication.
I think the panic attacks are there to make up for the fact that by some idiosyncrasy of nature, I am never physically ill. I haven't been ill - not really ill - for almost as long as I can remember. I last had a day off work sick in 1995. This worries me, because it surely means that Fate has some terrible Dorian Gray-esque physical affliction in store for me which may strike me at any time, if I'm not super-vigilant.
But anyway. The panic attacks. It would be nice if just for once, just for one day, I could go out, go on the bus, go on the tube, go for a walk, go into a meeting, go to the pub, go anywhere where there are other people and no immediately obvious escape route, without panicking. Without getting tenser and tenser and more and more frightened until I think I'm going to collapse, or somehow melt, or throw up, or all my limbs are going to fly off if I don't get out of there really, really quickly.
I don't want to go back on the medication, but sometimes it seems inevitable.
Anyway. This post doesn't have a point, other than that now I've written it I can write about other things again. Like Ghostbusters. I'll probably write about Ghostbusters next. That'll be better.