Raine once asked me what it was like to have a panic attack. What it felt like.
The reason she'd asked was because she'd seen me in the grips of one before. Multiple times, actually.
I knew, as strong as she was, that they frightened her. She'd crouch down beside me as I clutched my chest, wheezing, trying hard to hold on to my sanity, and she'd place a hand on my shoulder, lowering it to my back, then rubbing circles. She'd tell me that it's going to be okay, that I just need to calm down.
I could see the fear in her eyes as she tried to tell me that it was going to be okay. It was almost funny, in a way.
But anyway, a panic attack is terrifying. It makes me feel like I'm going to die. I feel like my heart is racing towards a finish line that it won't ever reach. I feel like it might explode in my chest. I feel terrified, sick, disturbed, and completely out of control. It's something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.
The first time I had one with Raine, we had had a fight. I try not to start fights, so I will admit that it was Raine who had started it. As much as I love her, she is the argumentative type. She finds flaws and faults easily in others. She gets upset and sometimes she really does hurt my feelings. And I try to hide it. But the more I try to stay calm and not get upset, the more this feeling of tightness inside me grows. The more I suppress my sadness, my fear...the more I want to explode in rage.
I can't explode in rage, though. Because that's not who I am. If I ever got that angry at anyone, especially someone I loved, I'd never be able to forgive myself.
And so I start to shake, my breaths become shallow, and I feel a numbness begin to spread from my face to my fingertips, all the way down to my legs. Once it reaches my legs, I collapse to the floor and fall onto my side, unable to get up, unable to do anything but lay there, trembling, swaying from side to side like a fish.
It's when this happens that Raine realizes what has happened, falls down beside me and starts apologizing. She blames herself for it. She repeatedly tells me she's sorry, that it's her fault and that she doesn't understand why I'm getting so upset.
I want to laugh at this because I wonder the same thing. Why do I get so upset? Why do difficult situations scare me to the point of making me immobile?
Well, I suppose this all points to my being a coward, doesn't it? Instead of facing challenges, I store them away for later, a later that may never come. And then I collapse under the weight of it all once it gets to be too much.
Panic attacks are terrifying...they truly are. When you feel like you can't move, when you can't feel your face, you know that you could die at any moment and there's nothing you could do to stop it.
I cry sometimes while I'm having one, and it's not even because it's so painful. It's simply because it's so frustrating. I feel so angry at myself for not being able to control my body, for not being able to overcome this, and most of all...for worrying Raine. Because I know it makes her worry about me. Her eyes tell me that she's afraid I might kill myself from the stress that I inflict on myself.
I mean, I know that her anger is partly the reason, but if it wasn't for my inability to handle conflict, it wouldn't be such a big deal. Everyone has arguments, right? So doesn't that mean I'm the one with the problem?
Well, anyway, I've been trying harder to control myself lately. Trying harder to not break down when Raine is upset, when she brings up something that bothers her. It is sad to say, but even these little things make me feel stressed out. It makes me feel like I'm being accused of something and that sparks feelings that I have difficulty controlling. I guess I really am an emotional guy.
I'm just glad that she supports me afterward. I know she means well and doesn't want to hurt me in any way. I think she might need to control her anger just a little bit, though. Or maybe she has every right to it and I'm wrong. I don't know...you see how indecisive I am. I even drive myself crazy with all of my self-talk sometimes…
In the end, I guess all I can say is that I hope I can find the strength to overcome these attacks. Although a part of me is used to them, and has come to accept them, I don't want to simply adjust my life to something that limits me.
I want to be strong. I want to be in control. And I definitely don't want to be that weakling lying on his side, flopping about like a fish on land, unable to do anything but wait for death.
