A Storm Is Brewing

Healing (Anxiety TW)

The weeks that followed weren't as pretty as they may have looked to an outsider, instead I was in a constant battle with my own head. Anxiety wasn't something I had always been used to, it crept up on me during my years at university, completely taking over my life at one point. I'd been offered the tablets, dealt with the side effects of medication literally turning my brain off, and tried the therapies. I found in the end that what really needed to change was my situation.

That's the thing that doctors don't realise when they sign you up for talking therapy, or give you a piece of paper to collect some medication. Sometimes, all the textbook ways of dealing with anxiety in the world won't be enough, not if the route cause isn't determined. That was the one thing I could thank Hannah for, and one thing I wouldn't let anyone take away from her.

Flashback:

Hannah and I had joined our friends for a meal to celebrate handing in our latest university assignment, a day to be happy. That's exactly what it had been, a relaxing meal with people that I felt comfortable with, and nothing that stood out as a trigger.

"You went to see that film, Sophie, didn't you?" Claudia asked across the table.
"Yeah, it was really good."

God, I don't feel well.

"Was it similar to the book?"
"Eh - yeah. Yeah, it was."

Why do I feel like this?

"Did you go to that new cinema, Sophie?"
"Yeah. The one beside our old uni halls."

I think I'm having a heart attack.

"A guy in my class said it was overrated. What was it like?"

Please stop talking to me.

"Earth to Sophie?"

Do you think someone around here would know CPR?

"Sophie?" Hannah whispered.

Why has no one noticed how unwell I must look mid heart attack?

"Sophie?" Hannah said, a little louder.
"Heart attack." I croaked.
"What?"

Jesus Christ, I can't breathe.

"Have to go." I whimpered.

Common sense should've told me that I wasn't having a heart attack, considering I was now running along the streets to - anywhere. I finally stopped when I passed the gates of the hospital, taking a seat on the bench facing them and waiting patiently for my - heart attack? - to pass.

To everyone else it sounded stupid, to run when I was telling them I was struggling to breathe. To me, though, it made perfect sense. I was scared, so I ran away, just like everyone else would do. I suppose somewhere deep inside I knew that my symptoms may have been mental rather than physical, but there was always that doubt in my mind that maybe this time would be the time I'd diagnose it wrong - not do something about it when I should have. Like running.

"I thought I'd find you here." Hannah whispered, smiling softly at me.
"Sorry - again." I sighed.
"It's okay."
"It was really real this time."
"I know."
"Can we stay here for a bit?"
"Course, c'mere." She whispered, pulling me into her.

I thought Hannah had overlooked it, like I had asked her to, but it turned out she'd actually spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out why this was happening. Just two weeks later, Hannah managed to diagnose what the doctors couldn't.

"Questions." Hannah blurted out.
"Huh?" I croaked, half asleep on her chest.
"Questions are what trigger you. Claudia was asking you questions at dinner, the time before that you were being asked questions at the end of the presentation, and the time before that I was asking you what date we were going to go home for Christmas."
"Why would questions trigger me?" I chuckled.
"Because you spent so long avoiding the ones your mum asked you about relationships, maybe? I'm not trying to diagnose -"
"I think you might be right. I can't just never be asked a question again, though." I sighed.
"I know."