I was sitting here trying to talk myself out of a panic attack and figured I’d take a minute to write about anxiety. Hopefully, it will help me feel better to talk about it.
It’s a lot like how I would imagine drowning, except instead of water, it’s an overwhelming and paralyzing fear. It’s the moment in the horror movie when the door is slowly creaking open, and I don’t know what is coming. I just know that it will be terrifying, so I cover my eyes anyway. My brain suddenly becomes a broken record of what-ifs and negative thoughts. The problem is no longer that I think it’s going to be bad; I can’t even fathom a scenario where anything works out in my favor. The only coherent thought in my head is that everything is horrible. Then I start bouncing my knee or twiddling my fingers because I can’t possibly sit still at a time like this. I need to fix the problem to end the panic, but I can’t find a solution. I feel trapped. I remind myself to take deep breaths. In my attempts to not hyperventilate, I often hold my breath. Deep breaths. In and out. I think of horses. I listen to music.
Finally, my mind is no longer racing, and I am left with just the crushing weight on my chest. It’s an odd feeling. Almost as if there’s a particularly heavy book on my chest, only there’s nothing there. Finally, I’m able to think somewhat realistically again. I’m still left with no solution, but the fantastic thing about believing in God is that he can handle these things for me. I can trust that whatever crap goes down in my life, he can help get me through it. It’s not ideal. I’d like to be able to just hide in my room from my problems for the rest of my life, but my counselor told me that I shouldn’t do that, so until then, I’m kind of stuck trusting God. Did I mention I hate trusting?
Sincerely,
LifeInspiredByDreams
About Anxiety
