I am finally going crazy. It has finally hit.

Scary, but it is true.  It is finally here.  I knew it was coming and here is it is.
I am changing my dishes.  I hate my dishes.  Hate them.  I picked out my every day dishes when I was 23.  I picked out the same dishes that my parents used my entire lifetime.  My freaking grandmother used them.  When my mother saw that I registered for the same pattern she had, she bought me everything.  I mean everything.  I have more dishes than I know what to do with in my life.  I have probably 30 place settings, the gravy boat, the creamer (no one in my house drinks coffee,) the sugar container, the deep dishes, the soup bowls, the pitcher, etc, etc.  They make it I have it.  She went nuts.  I like to think she was trying to be kind hoping I would never have to spend another $ on dishes again, but I was 23.  My tastes have changed quite a bit and frankly, I think I just picked out a pattern then because I was so depressed and beaten down and it was easy.  I hate them now.  I broke on a few months ago and after the shock of it hitting the ground, it felt amazing.  I taking out some dishes and smashing them to pieces.  I will donate the others.  It will help a lot of folks who need dishes, trust me.  There are freaking some in the attic.  I will be donating them for years, but they are going.  I am finding something more me.  I realized last night that I spend so much time worrying about everyone else and what everyone else thinks of me and how I look and act and if I am a good friend, wife, mother, co-worker, boss, work out partner, and daughter.  It is EXHAUSTING.  Exhausting.  No wonder I am so tired all of the time.  It is draining.  I am worrying about me.  Screw the stress over worrying about everything else.  I kept these dishes for the last 5 years even though I hated them as I climbed out of a 20 year depression.  I felt guilty.  I felt like I would offend my mother since she had bought so many of them.  I felt it was wasteful.  I felt my mother would judge me.  I don't care today.  They will go to a good home so there will be little waste other than the plates I smash to bits, and as far as offending my mother, I no longer care.  I want dishes that make me happy and make me smile when I see them.  I am tired of hating them when I see them.  I don't want life to be just good enough or acceptable.  I want more than that.  That is the basis for my problems in my marriage and the basis for these episodes I keep having.  I had another one today.  I thought it was low blood pressure, but one hit today as I was dropping my son off at school.  I was thinking about my mother-in-law and her $ she is getting from my husband's dad.  It took me to another place that I can no longer recall and suspect enters my mind each time I feel lightheaded as though I am about to pass out.  Having it happen while driving freaked me out for obvious reasons, but it let me know that these are panic attacks I am having.  Something is triggering them.  I can no longer remember what my thoughts were when it hit, but I realized that I need to start doings things to work on my happiness (within in the scope of my kids, of course, because they come first and should come first.)  I am staring with the small change, my dishes.  I have spent the last 28 years feeding myself with food to fill up the emptiness I feel each and every day.  I tie it all up, the stress, the overeating, the sadness, and the loneliness and put a bow on it and hold onto it so tight.  It is enough.  Piece by piece, I can untie it and get rid of it and just let it go.  So today it is my dishes.  We may be eating on paper plates for a while, but I do not care.  I want those dishes gone....