Remind Me Please

The first time I had a panic attack, I didn't know what it was. Not because I didn't know about panic attacks, but because mine was different. Panic attacks had been described to me as a feeling of being out of breath. Of drowning. And I didn't have those type of panic attacks.
Back then.

Now I know what drowning in panic feels like.

It's frustrating that anxiety can so quickly lead to depression in just minutes. How a perfectly nice day can go awry within what feels like hours but in reality, can be as short as a few minutes passing. But those minutes are painful. And it's so easy to fall into the pattern.

Panic attack. 

Depression. 

Panic attack. 

Depression. 

Panic attack. 

Depression. 

And then in my case you add a few other key elements.

Obsession. 

Panic attack. 

Compulsion. 

Depression.

It's hard to break the cycle. I need a reminder.

As I sat in my chair today in the middle of a panic attack, gasping for breath despite my properly working lungs . . . I thought of Eva. And how angry I was that my body wasn't letting me enjoy those breaths. At how gasping for air, the ability to fill my lungs inside of a panic attack was something terrible, and how the ability to breathe was twisted inside my body. Contorted into a darkness.

I was determined to live this year to the fullest. To love, love, love. To have that love mean something. Especially when it came to loving myself.

It's hard to follow through sometimes.

I need reminders.

A reminder that life is so short and it needs to be full of love.
A reminder that I am beautiful, no matter what my bad days tell me.
A reminder that I am not my OCD.
A reminder that despite my anxiety, I can in fact still breathe.
A reminder that depression does not define me.
And can be endured.




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