#anxietyattacks
I will always be scared.
I cannot say that
I have always been nervous
Although
Now I know
This is just how I am.
I have nobody.
It would be wrong to say
Someone would care,
If I destroyed myself again with my thoughts
I am just a worthless wreck
Nobody can convince me that
I am a warrior.
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 4:09 PM UTC
How many times have I quietly sobbed today?
Finally letting my walls down as I let myself know I am alone.
The room is filled with heavy gasps of air,
only for my ears to hear.
No, these aren't your regular inhales and exhales.
They come with little sobs and whimpers
that changes your breathing,
They come with sharp pains in your chest as if you're drowning,
They come with little pools of water that has the capacity to carry an immense weight of sadness.
Defying the Laws of Physics,
wetting your face that never seems to stay dry
with each little drop.
All at once,
You feel as they come at you.
Like a firework had just been lit,
prepared for what's to come on the 4th of July.
.
.
.
.
Suddenly, all these that surges from you stops.
Your ears ***** on slow yet heavy thumping sounds . . . !
footsteps
You get up, and the fireworks in your chest fall at once to your hollow stomach.
Making a crashing noise of empty cans on shards of previously broken glass.
You wipe your tears and stare back,
as your reflection in the mirror smiles at you.
a fleeting moment of hate and disappointment pass through your mind
Inhale. . . .
. . . .Exhale
**"it's sharp and it stings...
...it's tight and all very familiar"**
A new task has begun as soon as you end one,
and just as quick a routine ends and night awakens....
The same routine awaits to greet you,
once the Sun wakes the world.
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 12:17 AM UTC
Everything may end,
The unknown knows.
All you dread.
You are held aloft.
Seeing the events.
Quiet and tense.
The storm builds,
Thunder softly stirs.
Shy away.
Come down,
Touch the earth.
Unbearing suspense.
Your breath is taken,
You are made blind.
Speech is numbed.
Hide from all,
Seek none.
Hear no-one.
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 5:08 PM UTC
The more steps I take the more I lose my breath
I try to run but I can’t escape
It’s getting closer I think it’s too late
It caught me again
My heart starts pounding
My hands start shaking
Nobody can hear me
Nobody can help me
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
My turn to go up next.
The teacher glances toward me and nods.
I grab my instrument and walk to the front of the room.
A chair and stand awaits me.
I set the sheet music on the stand and take a seat.
"Whenever you're ready," he says.
I lift the french horn to my face and pause.
I remember the people before me who went,
eyes full of fear.
Hoping with every ounce of their soul
that they won't mess up.
My chest constricts tightly.
I struggle to take a breath, then begin.
The first note is perfectly on pitch.
So far, so good.
The phrase flows smoothly.
The piece goes well,
until I take a risky glance around the classroom.
A knot forms in my stomach.
Everyone is looking at ME.
Expecting ME to do well.
My fingers fumble as I miss a note.
I panic and rush the rhythms,
not caring if I miss the pitch.
I just want this TORTURE to be over.
Their gazes are icy.
The piece ends and I swiftly let my instrument down.
I hang my head low.
The ones before me look grim.
Surely I had disappointed them
The director says nothing.
The silence is KILLING me.
I feel my face flushing red.
The room is getting warmer.
"Next?" He asks, prying that I should take my spot.
I get up and take my things,
then do exactly that.
The next person plays perfectly.
I applaud with tear-stained hands.
They are praised well as they walk to their seat,
beaming in glory.
Who am I to pretend
that I understand this madness
called success?
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC
Tighten chest.
Stupid fest.
Hated feast.
Shaking hand.
Can't breathe.
Heart hurting.
Continuous gasping for air.
" I am so stupid. What did I do?"
"What am I doing!?"
"You foolish hag what are you doing?"
I am hardly free from this anxiety.
Free me...
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
.........A bag of stones as my heart.
Water lillies as eyes,
A glass vase as my body.
I couldn't think with this thunder
storm of a mind and I couldn't
speak when my heart is racing, running out
of time. Blurred is my vision, heavy, are my thoughts. My heart filled with the heaviness of fear and nightmares.
I don't know what to do. I don't want
to enter into the dark lairs of death
I am afraid, fearful, hurt
And lost. I hope you
God would help
me through
this storm...........................
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
I take all these tests
all over the internet
they come back
all the same
they come back
I don't need the tests
I live it
Because they always come back
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
the only time
i have ever felt calm
is in the presence of pain.
it laps at my brain
and takes over my body
as i cannot feel anymore
there are times that i adore
the excuse to tuck myself away
as i am washed into a darkness
the world never sits on the same axis
when my soul tries to stitch itself back together
after it splits under too much pressure
i used to imagine that u could breathe under water
as i could make up for when i felt so much weaker
in the atmosphere that waited above me
all my effort strengthened my need to be carefree
but i knew my work would always lead
to my visits to my mind’s coroner
i allow my whole self to wander
finding pseudo relief in jumping to conclusions and off cliffs in my mind
only to find real solace just when my thoughts stop
i have memorized the reactions of when my face drops
and a quiet captures my mind
because it scares me, too
my calmness it different to you
i’ve seen this my whole life
as when i hurt, at first, no one seemed to see
but later, i saw how different pain was for the mind and body
for everyone else it was so separate
but i felt them as if they were alive inside me
migraines that felt like a caged animal trying to break free
my skull shattered as my body overheated
mind and body desperately trying to reject something unknown
it was at these times that i would lay prone
pondered at the ceiling with thoughts
that were so irrational they became logical
there was were my self would dull
my soul turns inside out and i relish
in the nothingness that is sure to come
my body wakes with a rejuvenated thrum
and i start the story all over again
and i stare through once calm waters to see myself for what feels like the first time.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC
I’ve always been consumed with a sadness and heaviness i could never rid myself of
I wrote constantly.
I knew what heartache felt like and yet nothing could have prepared me for this.
I have not yet lost you.
You’re still here, you still love me.
But for how long?
My mind keeps running back to that sadness to that emptiness and i ask, “how much longer do i have?”
I’ve taken up tarot cards, runes and pendulums and i ask them all the time.
I ask them how things are really going.
I ask them if you still love me or if you’re only pretending.
“How much longer do i have?”
Why?
I want to be prepared.
I want to know you’re leaving before even you do.
I want to grieve before it happens so it doesn’t **** me.
I feel the anxiety burning in my chest already.
I find myself daydreaming about a future where I’m in a lonely little apartment late at night and I can feel your arms around me. However, when I roll over to face you there’s no one there and I remember that you’re with someone else and you’re happier with her.
I don’t want that to be real.
I don’t want you to leave.
I’m scared.
So I try to hope for the best but I want to prepare for the worst.
Please tell me how long I have. Please tell me before it ends.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 11:51 PM UTC
You feel like you're drowning,
Somewhere along fainting and dying,
Like you're trying to scream and nothing but air comes out,
You can't focus on anyone or everything,
Feels like you're crawling out of your skin,
Just trying to find a way out.
They might confuse it for simply zoning out,
And it might just seem like a simple "zone out" sometimes
but you know deep inside what it is,
Its your dearest friend: anxiety
Its beng rude and simply attacking you,
but please say to yourself "it will pass, it will pass"
And usually, it does
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
It’s late at night and
You feel it coming,
The nausea, the pain.
Like a knife being twisted in your stomach.
You curl into a ball, fearing what is to come.
There is no hope, it’s happening.
The shivers, the tears.
Immense fear.
You clench your teeth,
Telling yourself you aren’t crazy.
Everything will be okay.
Won’t it?
No.
It will never be okay.
The shaking continues, you throw the covers off.
You sweat, you freeze, you cry for it to stop.
Relief doesn’t come easy.
Your muscles tighten, and your
Thoughts are running at full speed.
You cry for help, but your calls are silent.
If only you could sit up,
Reach a hand out for your pills.
But do they really help?
You think they do.
You’ve lost full control.
Numb limbs can’t be told what to do.
A crying mind can’t be silenced,
And the attacks can’t ever be stopped.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
I'll never forget the time
you laughed at me
when I told you I was
stupid for scratching at my face viciously,
leaving me with a scab
under the bags of my right eye.
I stood there crying as you laughed.
Who knew that would be
the start of my anxiety attacks.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Right now, my mind...
Is the proverbial popcorn machine.
Every little thing that bothers me is
likened to a kernel.
And to make popcorn, you need lots...
Bucketloads of kernels.
Dump them all in the machine.
Let them whirl.
They sit layered on top of each other
undisturbed,
on the hot bed until...
The spindly metal arms begin to rotate...
Whose sole purpose is to agitate.
Buttered with debilitating insecurities.
Sprinkled with irrational fears.
Heated with erratic temperament.
And here come the arms again.
Rotating,
churning,
inciting.
No one knows when the kernels
are going to cave and rupture.
Then...
"Pop!" would go one.
Then another...
And another...
Soon they would all start to explode.
When that happens,
I do too.
••••••••••••••••••••••
Addendum
••••••••••••••••••••••
I love popcorn.
And I don't like to share.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
It doesn't matter what anyone says, there's no right way.
Why? Because everyone is different, so they're attacks are different.
I once compared an anxiety to an exercise in theater arts.
And I was told that having an anxiety attack didn't feel that way.
Well, for me, it does, because that's how it feels for me.
You can't tell me that what I'm feeling is not an anxiety attack.
Just like I can't tell you that you're not having one.
Why? Well, because that would be me just saying you're wrong.
And how can I tell you that what you're feeling is wrong?
I don't know how you react to anxiety, so I can't.
That's why, I know that everyone has different types of anxiety.
You can have a full blown anxiety attack.
You can have a mini one, or it can be just physical and unnoticed.
There is no wrong way to have an anxiety attack.
Everyone experiences anxiety in their own ways, and it's real.
Just know that anxiety can happen in any way.
There's no right or wrong way to have one, they just happen.
Whether you can control them or not, they happen.
All you can do, is do your best to manage them and be okay.
That doesn't mean they'll go away, it doesn't.
This just means that you'll be able to live and cope with them.
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
He looked into my eyes, deeply, and seldomly blinking. His body was trembling, as if the very earth herself quaked within his veins. He was breathing heavily; the intake shallow, the output, shallower still. His skin was damp from the nerves, of course, not the heat. For it had barely begun. He reached for my hand and held it tightly and a part of me, for but a moment, enjoyed the fact that he needed me. He clung to me with his face pressed against my chest occasionally emitting a quiet moan. Eventually, I felt his wet warmth soak into my shirt. It hurt me, but I didn't make him move. I stayed still and held him until the panic attack was over, until the wet tears dried. This is how I defined my love; how I make love. Acceptance, compassion, guidance, and a friend.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC