Thought I was cool and didn't need to take my Anti-Anxiety meds until I was in a panic attack. Then the darkness came back. That's the best way I can describe it. It's the nameless fear that lingers just after waking up in the middle of a nightmare. You don't remember what it was, but your body tells you something utterly terrifying may still be stalking you.

It's not panic but a distorted frame of mind nonetheless. The prescription says to take as needed. I guess I'm learning the boundaries between need and desire. I don't really need anything, except oxygen and water, occasionally food.

Sometimes, however, it is wise to take care of something before it reaches life or death proportions. You don't wait until the house is engulfed in flames to use the fire extinguisher. Problem is, I've got a leaky valve somewhere and little fires keep popping up all over the place.

Oh well. As long as I've got something that works I am going to use it to enjoy what normal time I have. It's a hidden blessing of depression that I've learned to really appreciate every moment above ground that comes. So it's back to taking care of myself rather than seeing how much pain I can endure before I break down.

I might have been unconsciously setting myself up for a relapse by trying to be more sober. Need to redefine sobriety as a stable state of mind, rather than a simple refusal to ingest drugs of any kind. That should work for now.