At some point you start to feel good about yourself. You get out of that funk. You get out of bed. You start living again. Eventually the panic subsides, eventually the meds are not needed. That's when you feel good. Even when bad things are happening (and realize bad things happen to everyone) you can handle it. How could you not? You have handled so much worse.
Well as you heal, sometimes your mind pushes things deeper. Things you don't want to think about anymore. That's when the nightmares come in. Suddenly in the middle of the night you find yourself in a nightmare. You are dying or someone close to you is dying. You can't change the dream, you can't fix it. You wake up in a panic attack (you know the ones you thought were over) You can't breathe, you are paranoid. Drugs only help so much.
It will get better...the eternal mantra.
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