It's All in Your Head

Like a dream, the visions come just close enough to terrify me – but yet, not enough to tear through my skin. My heart is no longer my own, it goes into an abnormal cycle of circulation so hard it causes the aching to grow worse. I just want to scratch all over myself, desperate to get the hurt out of me because it felt like It was just under one layer of skin. I want to vomit.

It's not physical pain, even though sometimes that can be caused, that's not the exact source of it. It is a kind of turmoil that can only be described with the words, “You just don't understand”. I close my eyes, focusing on making it go away but the sickening, unrealistic thoughts can't be easily removed from my mind. Taking ample concentration, it can takes hours to calm the shuddering, silence the icy chill over my skin, and ease the stomach ache.

The inside of me just breaks. I start to cry as the idea of never being normal strikes me. This is the point where It really just takes me over – doing just the opposite of what I desire. Try to eat? Violently vomit it up later. Try to sleep? Waking it up shaking and in tears. Exhaustion so strong that I can hardly stand, but It doesn't allow rest – It wants to watch me suffer. the midst of the night – when my whole family is asleep – they're completely unaware of what my insides are like and what's happening to me.

My internal feels unorganized and afraid, shrinking. They want to escape from themselves and they scream for my help. There's just nothing I could do – I'm not strong enough to control It. The urge to run from myself is abnormally tempting and the fact that me is hurting me is hard to comprehend. That my thoughts would come up with such disasters as if It wants me to be in the center of them all.

“I just want sleep,” I think. “I want to be able to down something and fill full, please, just go away.”  Talking to It can help a little bit. Conversation and distracting myself is a way I can cope. Then right when I believe I'm finally recovering, It just breaks it all back down and drags you down more into the depression of just being alone.

I open my eyes. The bright light overhead the sink hurts my sore and wet eyes. Rubbing my eyes and trying to wake myself up, I look to the toward with the seat raised. I had been lying against the edge of the tub, waiting to vomit and trying to calm myself down from the panic attack. Guilty and exhausted, a new flood of tears rush over me as I realize I let it take hold of me once again. I was freezing – everything I touched was cold. I want my bed.

As I saunter out of the bathroom, I finally lock away my inner demons as they waited for their next opportunity to attack once again. When the next panic attack comes.

Anxiety is scary as hell.