Tangled Thoughts

Panic Attacks

*WARNING: This chapter is dark and could be a trigger to some. The poem below is a look into my anxiety and what I feel during and after a panic attack. Read at your own will.

I used to love the rain,
I loved the pitter patter on the rooftops,
The aroma that filled the air,
Watching as the clouds danced across the sky,
It was electrifying.
I loved storms.
They brought me peace.
But now I'm broken, that piece broken too.
The sound of storms now gets overwhelming,
White noise that threatens to rip my home and my own sanity to shreds.
The once puffy clouds cover me in a veil of darkness,
Trying to snuff out the already dimming light that is mine.
The puddles I once would have splashed in,
I now avoid in a panic.
Afraid to fall,
Afraid of my own mortality.
I hate rain.

I used to love to cook,
I loved creating new recipes for my loved ones,
Experimenting with different spices,
Aromas would fill the air putting smiles on the faces of my family as we gather at the table.
It brought me peace.
But now I'm broken, that piece broken too.
Every meal I cook instills fear in me,
Afraid to do something wrong,
To undercook something and make my family sick,
Afraid they will choke and I won't be able to save them.
Their life, in my hands.
I hate to cook.

I can only watch as the things I love, piece by piece, come tumbling down.
And I can't fix anything.
All because I'm broken now.
Sometimes I feel like I'm dying.
I can't get myself under control.
I can't stop my own thoughts as they torment me; relentless.
It's like I'm tangled in a web that I can't escape. My body is breaking, broken.
I'm afraid.
So I write my way to freedom.
Maybe, somehow, I'll unwrite this web.
With enough ink and paper I'll set myself free,
From this prison called,
Anxiety.