5:54PM
I was supposed to go to my dad's new appartment today, and spend the rest of the year there. I had packed my bags and he came to pick me up around 3PM. Not even halfway —on the highway— I started having an anxiety attack. I tried to control it, but it was getting worse and worse. I told my dad what was going on, and he offered to bring me back home. He said he completely recognized the things I was saying, and that I should do whatever I thought would make me feel better. I told him I really wanted to spend time with him, but that I can't when I'm feeling like this. I thought about it some more, and then asked him to bring me back home.
On our way back we talked about our experiences with these kind of things, and they are extremely similar. He told me he has become able to control, or at least handle it. He gave me some advice on what I could and should do, what he has done in the past himself, and how he's managing currently. Though it felt really good talking about it, I wasn't feeling a whole lot better physically... yet.
Once we got back to my place, I told my dad I was really sorry and I felt very bad about it. He said it's not a problem at all and that I should find my own comfort. He also let me know that whenever I want him to pick me up again —be it tonight, tomorrow, or some other time— I just have to call him. That made me feel a lot better, though I wish it didn't have to fucking be this way.
I went to bed, watched some (stupid) TV, played some basketball game, and feel a lot better now. Figures...