Tag Archives: panic


You know what absolutely sucks? Leaving bad things behind.

It’s not that part that sucks, really. It’s the fact that when you leave bad things behind, you inevitably leave good things behind too. And the good things.. let’s be honest- not things, people. When you leave the good people behind, they don’t really know why you left. They don’t know how much the bad things hurt you or how much it hurts to leave the good people. They don’t understand the pain that fills you when you think about going back. They don’t know you can’t let yourself think about them because it hurts much too much to do so. They don’t know how much you had to fake it or the kind of front you put up just so you’d survive.

And then you feel bad because you left them behind. And you know, you know, you know, you know, that you can’t go back. And you can’t do that again. And it’s the reason part of you is dead. It’s a piece of you that your body literally would do better without because it’s trying to infect the parts of you that are still alive. But still. You feel bad. Because you were good. You just had to be so freaking good to some people that now that you’re gone, they miss you. And leaving people like that really isn’t in your job description because you know what it’s like. And you want to be there for everyone if only they weren’t there. You know, that place you can’t go because… well you don’t know why.

But you know that you have to go back soon and the thought strikes you with fear and makes you crazy. Because why would you want to return to a place that saw so much of your pain? Why would you want to return to a place that stole hours and hours and hours from you that you’ll never get back? A place filled with emotion and pain and hurt but also with comfort because, hell! it’s all you knew for four years of your life. But at some point, a home turned into a prison and, for crying out loud, you still can’t figure out which one is it.

You just feel bad because you left all the good things along with all of the bad things. And you just wonder how long they’re going to keep hurting you.




I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. I tried not to make any noise which was hard considering the fact that it was quickly becoming extremely difficult to breathe normally. I turned the fan on and then the shower to make some noise, but soon I was gasping for air.

This couldn’t be happening. My mind, reeling, flashed back to three years earlier. The situations, the reasons for panic were so similar it astounded me. This wasn’t as serious. That’s what I kept trying to tell myself. But logic had no way of reaching me here. I tried to hold myself up with the wall, but my efforts were futile. My knees soon met the cold tile of the bathroom floor.

This is how it started last time. My mind again took me to three years ago. I remembered it clearly. The thin carpet under me as I grasped at anything. My entire body had been in so much pain. That panic attack had been the worst I had ever had.

This wasn’t as bad, I again told myself. I coaxed myself into breathing normally again. I would be okay. Everything would be fine.

But what if it wasn’t? Simple tasks became hard. My hands were trembling and I couldn’t think straight. I lost my breath again.

It went on like this for a while, alternating between breathing and forgetting how to. Because the reality is that it might not be fine. The reality is that something, so many things, could go horribly wrong. I’m not a control freak. But sitting by helpless is one of the most terrifying feelings in the world.



“Not much for conversation, still find need to pray. Sometimes I get tired of walking through these ordinary days.”

Yesterday, I think I freaked my friend out. He left me alone for a minute or two as he changed and when he came back out to get me, I was in a completely different mood. He hugged me goodbye and pulled away and looked at me.

He asked if I was okay.

I was too thrown off to lie.

I said I think so. Maybe I said I didn’t think so. Either way, I was confused. So was he (rightly so). He took a step back and asked what was wrong.

“If nothing else I get to see you, even if we never speak. All the words and sometimes we don’t quite know what they really mean.”

But I didn’t know. My mind had become muddled. I felt so sad and anxious at the same time. He was concerned. I went back to my apartment and immediately got in bed and started watching White Collar, mainly because usually it can calm me down. But throughout the entire episode, my heart felt like it was racing. My mind felt empty and overwhelmed simultaneously. 

“Let me lay down in this field and stare up at the sky, hope the days and clouds turn into something as they pass us by.”

When I was feeling a little better, I texted my friend to apologize if I had made him uncomfortable. He was fine, just wanted to know if I was okay. I tried to explain the feeling to him, and he was still really concerned. I told him I was fine.

It happens sometimes.

But why does it happen sometimes? Why, when I least expect it, do I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Usually it happens at night or if I’ve been alone for a long period of time. But it was five in the evening and I had just been hanging out with several people for the past four hours or so.

“Maybe you could settle for a skyline faded blue. Hope you might settle for this love I have for you.”

But really, I’m fine. I didn’t end up having a panic attack. I just took it easy for the rest of the night and woke up with only slight side effects of exhaustion. I just want to know why it happens, you know? What am I ignoring to the point that my body caves under the stress of it?

Good thing God’s in control. Good thing He knows what’s going on.

Goodness knows I don’t.

“I don’t know where, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but Your love can make these things better. Your love makes these things better.”


Lyrics from “Ordinary Days” by Jars of Clay

Blind. (Part Two)

We then walked to the forth challenge.

Before the leaders got there, I surveyed what was set up before us. We were standing behind a row of wooden beams. About eight to ten feet in front of us, there was a wooden pallet at the foot of a tree. On either side of it a few feet away were two more pallets. In between us and the three pallets was a rope swing. I understood the challenge before they explained it.

We had to all get on the wooden pallets only by using the rope swing. We couldn’t touch the ground. We had to somehow get the rope without touching the ground. Then another rule was added.

Two people would be blindfolded.

And suddenly they placed a blindfold in my hand.

I actually thought it would be interesting. Taking away one of the senses is pretty interesting to me. Just how other senses kind of enhance themselves. At least they’re supposed to.

I tied the bandana around my eyes.

At first I was fine.

And then…. Then I wasn’t.

Gradually, the fact that I didn’t really know anyone in the group that well freaked me out. I couldn’t see who was around me. When I wasn’t blindfolded, it was easy to fade into the background. But now I was. Was I standing at the front of the group? Behind everyone? If I stepped backwards, would I run into a tree?! I knew nothing without my eyesight.

Then it was my turn to grab the rope and swing across to we’re others were waiting on the wood pallet. They’d catch me. Who? My mind asked. Someone pulled me forward. I thought it was one person until they spoke. Their voice startled me. It wasn’t who I thought.

Everyone was telling me what to do. How to grab the rope. How to swing across. Who would catch me. How far it was. That they’d catch me. That I’d be fine.

I raised my voice around the chaos and demanded only one person speak to me. They calmed down a little but the voices still overwhelmed me. I asked if I was facing the right way. I grabbed the swing and then was flying through the air.

Strange hands caught and steadied me. They guided me to the back of the pallet. I closed my arms around my chest and leaned against the tree. I tried to make myself as small as possible.

Someone touched the ground. We had to start over. Someone led me back to the starting point. Then they left me alone again. I tried not to move. Not to breathe. Not to be noticed. But I couldn’t tell if I wasn’t being noticed. I couldn’t tell if people were staring at me. I couldn’t tell if they’d completely forgotten about me.

They started the challenge again. I spent my time trying not dissolve into a panic attack. Tears burned just below my eyes. I tried desperately to keep myself calm. My mind was running wild. I couldn’t focus. My thoughts blurred together.

It was my turn to swing across to the tiny wooden island again. One of the people I knew the best was on the otherwise waiting for me. He was a good friend’s finance, so I did trust him more than the others in the class.

Again, I was in the air. They caught me and again guided me to a place where I wouldn’t be in the way. He was the first to kind of see I wasn’t doing too well.

“How you doing?” He asked me.

“Fine.” I tried to smile.

“You’re doing great.” He told me.

A couple other people proceeded to encourage me.

I tried not to speak.

When it was finally time for me to swing back across one more time, my friend’s finance was on the other side to catch me again. For some reason, I spun around a little bit when I swung across this time. My feet hit the wooden beam as he caught me and I almost hit the ground. He helped pull me over as I stumbled.

As I almost lost it.

My breathing quickened as my hands searched for something. Anything. My hands on his forearms, he talked to me as he led me to a tree I could rest against.

I wondered how obvious my panic was to those around me.

I waited as patiently as possible until the game was over. I resisted the urge to tear off the blindfold. To back into the woods. To beg people around me to constantly speak so I could know where they were. I was terrified.

More later.