One day, one glorious day, my panic attacks stopped. I didn't plan it, it just happened. 
        I was frying little cubes of parsnips. I didn't know they were miracle parsnips, I only knew I was cooking lunch. Suddenly I was freakishly scared. I was terrified of these little cubes, my whole body was shaking. Then the miracle happened. I looked at the feeling and looked at the parsnips and thought, hold on a minute, I'm not afraid of parsnips, this is something else. 

It's tough. So tough sometimes I have to shout, 'Come on you lion!' Flashbacks come in bits and pieces; a pain in my side, spasms in my tum that have me juddering in a little ball, a wet sound that has me sobbing into my rice pudding, or just a wrong smell that flavours my banana and the water I swig afterwards to wash it away. 
       All the senses hold memories and they hardly ever make sense. Of course I avoided them, they hurt like hell. But what if stepping outside the front door is a trigger? What if doing new things is a trigger? Avoiding triggers can make a person a hermit.
      But, and this is a big BUT, there is another way.