Imagine for @danir519

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Doctor imagine for @danir519

*

"I can't take this exam." I shot out. I was so nervous I could barely look my friend in the eye.

"You're gonna be fine. I'll wait for you right outside." she said supportingly. She knew not to touch or hug me when I was anxious because it could easily trigger a panic attack.

The more I think about it, the more I'm realizing that a lot of things trigger panic attacks for me. Maybe I'm just oversensitive and this is all in my head.

"Clara? Don't dissociate right now. Just choose something in a room and focus on it. We have to get to class, okay?"

"I-I can't." My breathes got shorter and I sunk to the floor. Students stopped and stared at me, making me feel even more like a fish out of water.

"Clara, I don't know what to do." panicked my friend "Its never gotten this far before."

"Let me take it from here." said a deep voice. I didn't know who it was, but frankly, I didn't care. All I cared about was making sure that I kept breathing, because at this point, I can't even take that for granted.

"Everybody move along, come on."

I looked up and saw a tall man, urging students to get to class and to stop staring. He approached my friend and I with a kind smile on his face.

"How about you get to class, sweetheart?" he asked nicely and calmingly to her. She gave him a panicked nod and he assured her that she didn't have to worry before watching her leave.

After, he crouched down and gave me a kind smile. "Hi, love. I'm Ashton. What's your name?" His voice was calm, as if there was no problems in the world, while I sat on the floor drowning in them.

"Clara." I told him quietly.

"Okay Clara, how about we stand up and you can come with me to my office. I'm the school's new therapist and we can just talk all of this through."

Without saying a word, I stood up and followed him. Occasionally, he would turn around to make sure I was still behind him, and I'd respond with a small smile.

We approached a room which I didn't even know existed up until this point. When we walked in, I soon started to calm down.

The walls were a light shade of blue and the couches were white and looked comfortable. "Have a seat." he smiled. I did as told, and he sat opposite of me.

"What's got you so worked up, sweetheart?"

"A test." I said simply "I know it's a stupid reason."

"It isn't." he assured. "Some people don't handle that kind of pressure well, that's fine." he paused for a second before speaking again.

"Is it the first time this happened?"

"No it happens a lot." I admitted. There was no point in lying now.

"Do you speak to a professional about it. Maybe a therapist, like me?"

I just shook my head. My parents never witnessed one of my attacks. Every time I feel one coming, I run up to my room, usually when we have people over. They just think I'm shy.

"How about I'll set up an appointment for you with me, and if you feel like it helps we can make them a regular occurrence?"

"Yes please." I didn't want to put myself on blast, and I knew this meant sending a paper home, but I was genuinely so tired of dealing with these attacks at this point.

*

After a few appointments, Ashton introduced me to his friend Luke, who was a psychiatrist and he helped me even more.

Although the anxiety is still there, and it won't be going anywhere, I'm a lot happier and know how to deal with it.

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