I was feeling okay this morning. Good, even. I went to the store and bought things I needed and bought things I wanted. I have Liz Lemon frozen greek yogurt and Bugles and fruit. I was feeling tired by the time I finished that, but I forced myself to get back out for the Van Gogh exhibit.

It was amazing. To see the difference between the first of a painting and his repetitions side by side for comparison was wonderful. I wore my new "Space" dress, my hair was looking really cute. Van Gogh is one of my favorite painters, and I find his work and his life endlessly fascinating. I could stare at his brushstrokes for hours.

But.

I started having a panic attack after I left the exhibit and walked into the rest of the collection. I think it was a combination of the crowd and some triggered emotions and pretty soon, I was having trouble breathing, my vision kind of greyed around the edges, I got dizzy.

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So I had to remove myself from the situation and leave a lot earlier than I would have liked or normally stayed.

I had another panic attack while I was on the metro, which I'm sure made me look pretty crazy. Some twit started to laugh at me, and I was visited with the strong urge to punch her in her stupid face. I'm not usually given to violent urges. The walk from the metro station to my apartment never seemed longer.

I am now curled up in bed, trying to stop shaking and largely succeeding. I don't think I'm going outside tomorrow.