Stop the Madness

The following is unedited and raw in more ways than one. The night after a panic attack, I had the urge to start writing this. Getting the thoughts out is always important, so this was my therapy in a way. If you're easily disturbed by descriptions of panic, anxiety, or depression, then you probably shouldn't continue. If you wish to learn a bit more about these things, read on. Thank you for your time. <3

One

So this is what dying is.

You can’t breathe. Your chest is so tight that it’s painful. You are so uncomfortable, so terrified and distressed, that you want to crawl out of your skin, but you know it isn’t possible. You’re afraid to swallow because your throat is so dry that you’re scared you’re going to choke on the moisture in the midst of the dryness. You’re shivering uncontrollably—hard enough that your teeth are chattering and your limbs feel like they’re experiencing an earthquake within your body. And even though the intense trembling is from the chills, you feel feverish and sweaty.

You’re between wanting to vomit whatever you ate last and not wanting to leave the spot you’re rooted in. The queasiness and your racing heartbeat are making you feel lightheaded and faint. And your thoughts are unmanageable—unimaginable. These are so obviously your last moments on Earth, so you’re going back and forth between remembering if you told your loved ones how much you care for them today and thinking you haven’t accomplished everything you wanted to with your life.

You are so scared. So incredibly scared.

The only thing in the world you can do is breathe and wait to die, but even breathing has been deemed hard and unnecessary. Life feels…off, weird, out of control. You’re on the edge of living and dying, and while you don’t want to die, you have no idea how you can go on living in fear of this happening again. You’re bargaining for your life because you can’t possibly imagine what will happen to you without it, but death feels like the easier way out. If you’re going to die, you just want to be put out of your misery already.

Take me now or leave me alone, you think. Just end, because I can’t do this anymore.

As you curl up into the fetal position on your bed and wait for your body to finally stop breathing, you feel the adrenaline running through your veins, causing you to shake even harder. You try to stretch out your body to stop the violent shuddering, but that position doesn’t make any of the miserable feelings go away.

Fuck. How long can my heart race like this before exploding? you think.

You’re alone and you’re dying. This is it. You haven’t done enough in your life. You’re too young, not ready to die. On the other hand, life will feel incredibly long if this keeps happening, if you have to live in fear of the next episode. You’ve never simultaneously wanted to live and die so much at the same time.

When you check your phone, you find that only four minutes have passed, but they’ve felt like a lifetime. Like an eternity of suffering, sadness, and confusion. Flipping through Facebook for a distraction from the nausea, the sharp pains in your chest, and the hovering sense of terrible doom, you find nothing but negativity, which only feeds the fire, pours gas on the flames of your dying moments. After tossing your phone down, you decide on concentrate on your breathing. There isn’t much else you can do.

In through the nose, hold for five, out through the mouth. In, hold for five, out. In, hold, out.

The urge to find a diversion becomes overwhelming, so you find the remote to the television and press the power button. But as you flip through the channels, comedies don’t seem as funny as they used to and the dramas don’t feel as urgent as your own does. Thus, the TV is shut off and you’re back in your head.