The Other Me
‘Hello, Panic, My Old Friend’ vi. Dr Jarasinghe was a small, serene man in his forties. Sometimes, that serenity seemed cavalier. I saw him in a clinic about a five minute drive from where I lived, although that was an adventure in itself. As with my GP’s clinic, I assured myself that if I had any episode, at least I’d be in the right place. Still, I wanted to get there as quick as possible, and home as quick as possible. Anywhere in-between was unsafe. In our first session together Dr Jarasinghe took all my history. He said that my recent drinking might’ve buried my anxiety, but now that I…
The Other Me
‘Hello, Panic, My Old Friend’ v. I was in a constant shell-shocked state, short of breath, and felt like another earthquake was going to break me into little pieces. There were plenty of tremors, but I lived in anticipation of THE NEXT BIG ONE. What happened when that hit? What happened to me? I’d been living on an edge of constant anxiety; into what abyss did you fall when you plummeted from this this edge? I didn’t know any different, nor any better. This is what Dr Victor had programmed into me when I was younger: I was heading for a nervous breakdown; I could be institutionalised; it was worth…