C
COINTELPRO THIS
Guest
I am inspired to give this account of my experiences with panic attacks after listening to the podcast of LKJ in a confrontation with a "demon" (for lack of a better term). I hope that others who may be subjected to these attacks will be encouraged by my experience.
I'm talking about the kind of courage that will have you standing face to face with something so frightening, you will feel like you are fighting for your life. If you've ever had a panic attack you know what I mean. You are dangling on a thread over an abyss whose name is eternity. Courage? I know. You can barely stay conscious. Here's what happened to me...
I suffered my first panic attack in 1976. I was walking to a restaurant with a friend on sunny afternoon and when we got to the door I was overcome by a sort of vertigo. I felt a rushing feeling in my mind (not my body) and I was being pulled out of my senses. Suddenly I felt terrified like never before. It was more than a sense of death. It was a sense of perdition. It was so severe we went back to the car and drove to the hospital. I thought I was having a heart attack. (I was very young)
I sat on the steps outside the emergency room as the world slowly came back into focus and I was once again oriented.
These attacks continued for 11 years and then ONE DAY in 1987 I decided to fight back. I'm not saying this is the answer for everyone who suffers from these psychic attacks. I never saw a doctor, never took any medication. If you are on that path of conventional means then Don't Try This At Home.
I was sitting in my living room in 1987, minding my own business when terror came a'calling. If you've had these attacks, you know how they start. It's a sort of rushing/whirling sensation. I thought to myself, "I'm not going to live like this anymore. Enough already!"
I moved myself into an offensive position. I physically stood on my feet. I beckoned whatever it was to BRING IT ON. "Death? Go ahead! Kill me! I'm not running away from you! I'm not afraid! F#@& YOU!!....
This bizaare scenario went on for about 30 minutes. I wasn't afraid. I was angry. I was furious that this whatever-it-was was yanking me around for 11 years. I truly didn't care if I lived or died. If this was the most evil force in the world then so be it. "You'll have to pry my soul from my cold, dead hands. Otherwise, I'm not letting go."
And there it is. I haven't had one single panic attack since that day. That was twenty years ago.
Where do panic attacks come from? To this day, I have no idea.
I'm talking about the kind of courage that will have you standing face to face with something so frightening, you will feel like you are fighting for your life. If you've ever had a panic attack you know what I mean. You are dangling on a thread over an abyss whose name is eternity. Courage? I know. You can barely stay conscious. Here's what happened to me...
I suffered my first panic attack in 1976. I was walking to a restaurant with a friend on sunny afternoon and when we got to the door I was overcome by a sort of vertigo. I felt a rushing feeling in my mind (not my body) and I was being pulled out of my senses. Suddenly I felt terrified like never before. It was more than a sense of death. It was a sense of perdition. It was so severe we went back to the car and drove to the hospital. I thought I was having a heart attack. (I was very young)
I sat on the steps outside the emergency room as the world slowly came back into focus and I was once again oriented.
These attacks continued for 11 years and then ONE DAY in 1987 I decided to fight back. I'm not saying this is the answer for everyone who suffers from these psychic attacks. I never saw a doctor, never took any medication. If you are on that path of conventional means then Don't Try This At Home.
I was sitting in my living room in 1987, minding my own business when terror came a'calling. If you've had these attacks, you know how they start. It's a sort of rushing/whirling sensation. I thought to myself, "I'm not going to live like this anymore. Enough already!"
I moved myself into an offensive position. I physically stood on my feet. I beckoned whatever it was to BRING IT ON. "Death? Go ahead! Kill me! I'm not running away from you! I'm not afraid! F#@& YOU!!....
This bizaare scenario went on for about 30 minutes. I wasn't afraid. I was angry. I was furious that this whatever-it-was was yanking me around for 11 years. I truly didn't care if I lived or died. If this was the most evil force in the world then so be it. "You'll have to pry my soul from my cold, dead hands. Otherwise, I'm not letting go."
And there it is. I haven't had one single panic attack since that day. That was twenty years ago.
Where do panic attacks come from? To this day, I have no idea.