My stomach drops through the floor beneath my shaky feet, only to be replaced by a vice that slowly twists what is left of the insides. There’s a slight ping in my lower back and shoulders as muscles instinctively tightened to act as a shield. With every labored breath, my rib cage becomes a centimeter smaller. I wipe my hands on my pants, but it does little to dry the sweat or stop the trembling fingers. I can hear every heartbeat in my ears as the organ sends blood racing through my body. A lump in the throat prevents me from swallowing, from breathing.
But what is going on physically doesn’t come close to the torture going on in my head. My mind leaps frantically from random thought to absurd idea. Am I going crazy? What if I pass out? Is it a heart attack?
What am I going to do? How did this happen? Why me? Why Now? Why this?
That is a panic attack . . . And I have at least one every day. At its strongest point, I would have 13 in a 24 hour period.
I am challenged by social anxiety. This site is how I face that challenge every day to make my voice, my story heard. Even if it shakes.