The anxiety, creeping in.
I lie in bed, perfectly safe, and the walls close in. I can't breathe right. My thoughts are racing, yet it is nothing coherent. Mental noise, nothing more, but it makes my heart beat faster.
I swallow, trying to catch my breath, and reach for my talisman. My tree of life necklace that provides such comfort, even though it is a cheap piece of junk from Wal-Mart. It doesn't matter, at this moment. I need that necklace. I grope for it, unable to find it. Panic sets in. My mind focuses down, only able to think, Where is it? I need that necklace. It's irrational, and some small piece of my brain is trying to tell me that, but the panic is so great that rational thought is drowned out. I keep grasping, finally entwining my fingers in the chain.
I breathe a sigh of relief, and clutch the circle of metal to my chest. Now, it will all be okay. I have my tree. This world is bigger than just me. I have strong roots in the ground, and my head brushes the clouds. I am safe. I am solid. I am the tree, swaying in the storm, but refusing to break. My breathing slows. My pulse begins to even out. Eventually, after what seems like hours, the panic fades to a memory, and I am exhausted from the effort. I slip into a deep, dreamless sleep, the talisman still clutched tightly in my hand. I am still holding it when I awake, hours later.
This has been my world for the past week. Panic attacks, one after another, for days on end, until I am rendered nearly catatonic from the effort of breathing. I take a deep breath, and sigh, and call the doctor.
Today, I begin the medication again. Soon, these feelings will fade again, and I will be able to once again focus on all that is good in my life. My amazing husband. My perfectly wonderful son. Family and friends who help me up every time I fall. I have a warm home, a safe vehicle, and a bit of spending money to spoil my son. I am blessed in every way, and in a few weeks, that will become clear again.
For now, I take that little blue pill and wait.