Dark Therapy

Panic Attacks

I have anxiety.
It rips through my bones,
Clawing through skin and ripping at throats,
I see nothing and everything,
My tears flood my face,
Suffocating and choking
Chest in my mouth,
Gagging at air,
My voice taken, my sound broken.

I am in my room surrounded by walls I know,
But I don't know them.
Not right now. Not like this.
I am in my room but it feels like the valley of death.

I am in a battle,
Where it feels like my legs are taken,
And my body is not my own
I am clutching for something,
Hands clawed and outstretched,
I don't know what I'm looking for,
I can't think right now,
But maybe my heart is heaving for a savior
To tell me the truth I know but don't remember,

The world is not collapsing.
I am not dying.
This anxiety might seem real but I am in control of my body.
I am alive and well.

So I start listing things in my room,
Between stolen breaths,
I speak–my voice invisible and broken,
But I mouth the word anyway

Brown desk. I sit there when I'm trying to study.

I'm in my room but I don't remember these walls,
But I must try to remind myself that this
shadow is not mine,
I take a deep breath, try to hold it for four and fail,

Pink sweater. I wear that when I'm cold

I hear my voice now. It does not sound like mine.
Cracked and raw,
Like crushed glass under soles,
I unclench my palm, one finger at a time.
Neurons firing as they scramble to follow what I'm trying to command them do,
It feels like an eternity,
I take a breath and hold for four,

I don't fail.

I try again and again and again,

Black photo frame–I am smiling in that picture

I take a breath and another one,
Fingers clenching and unclenching,
I remind myself I am here.

Blue Bible. I read that every morning and I remember I am not alone.

A breath and another,
My walls look like my own. Faded yellow and full of life.
I force myself to remember,
I try and try again to remember,
I am alive and well.
I am not alone no matter what the voices are trying to say,

I am not alone
I am not alone
I am not alone

I cry freely now without the stone lodged in my throat,
I cry for myself and for my heart that has been through war and betrayal,
I embrace my mind because it is my own even though at times such as these I convince myself it's not,
I unfurl my fingers and hold myself,
Reminding my frightened body it is loved and whole,
And I thank it for trying its best to protect me despite the false alarms,
And I start to remember the truths I had forgotten,

The world is not collapsing.
I am not dying.
This anxiety might seem real but I am in control of my body.

I am alive and well.

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What a long poem phew! It was not my intention to go on for ages but writing this poem was cathartic, and once I started, it was quite difficult to stop. The Irony of a panic attack is that you could experience it a thousand times and still not be used to it. Each attack may be different, feel different, hurt different. When it occurs, I often want to crawl into a hole and die. Over the years I have tried to learn many techniques to calm myself that sometimes work and sometimes do not. I count to ten, I list things, I breath deeply, the list goes on. If there is one thing that I can for sure count on, it is the truth that the thoughts in my head during a panic attack are lies. I am not alone no matter how hard my mind tries to convince me otherwise. I am not worthless, I am not dying, I am loved.
I do want to go deeper into this poem but I worry I have already taken too much of your time. I would love to talk if you want to share your experience or need a listening ear. You are not alone.