I was having an off day, I didn’t feel like going to the gym, I didn’t cook all day, I slept more than half of my day and I didn’t want to get out of bed. I thought it was just another off day, I’ve been having those a lot lately. I wasn’t even in the mood to watch my favorite shows that evening so I decided to take a swim.

I spend more than two hours swimming, thinking, and at the end just looking at the stars, I went home dissatisfied at the day I had wasted away. I changed into dry clothes and sat to read articles online.

Then it hit me, the panic attack.

I was hyperventilating, I felt miserable, I couldn’t sit still, but I felt the need to sit with my legs and arms close to my chest, I needed to be wrapped tight in a hug, but with no one around I grabbed my blanket and wrapped it around my arms as tight as I could.

Afterwards I was terribly lonely, scared, and exhausted that I just cried. I wasn’t particularly thinking of any one thing but of all the ways my life had gone wrong these past six months.

I hadn’t felt so afraid in years, so completely alone and terrified that my life was going nowhere. Had I made all the wrong choices this year? Was karma coming back around to make me pay for my mistakes? Was this just another rude awakening that I have been living the wrong life all this time? How was I supposed to make sense of all this? When would my head stop spinning so I could think straight?

I slept through the rest of the night and much into the next morning. Emotionally exhausted. Still questioning my existence. Doubting every decision I made. Wondering how I’d make it through another day.

But like every other time, I survived; I regrouped and brought the pieces back together. I’m not saying I have my life figured out, far from that, but I’m not in a state of complete panic… for now. I live a never-ending battle with my own thoughts, ideas, and feelings that form the perfect environment for another attack.

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