Panic Mode
Out of nowhere, I felt this surge of energy inside me, tumultuous, like a violent wave breaking through my body. It felt like anger at first, coming in gradual bursts, like a whirlwind of water spinning in a circular vortex. Sucking out my sanity, all I could do was yelp as I reached for my keyboard in a frantic search for what to do as it was about to happen. I climbed on board this rocket and my eyes became fuzzy as I couldn’t see or make clear of what anyone was trying to tell me. Ideas and words both meshed simultaneously, divulging into one, like some secret massive ball. I grasped onto one sympathetic note as my chest felt about to explode with uncertainty, and faintness dispelled on me. I had rays of complex emotions breaking through my body, shaking in its entirety and leaping forth into something else. The way I felt reminded me of an exorcism, now that I look back at it.
I laid down coughing on my bed, diving my head into the pillows as I let out confused signs of pain, or something like pain. I moaned, not knowing what to do, crying and yet not being able to shed tears, hiding my tender face in the sheets as a child does during a thunderstorm when there is coming the strange and unknown. I tried breathing deeply, as my body rocked with this enigma, stretching my arms out as I felt it infiltrate my abdomen. My chest cavity felt as if it would explode, a ferocious heart beating inside of it, becoming more and more violent, as though an animal about to rip out of it’s cage. I feared for my safety, and my only thoughts told me to quiet this storm down enough to get me my Klonopin, as if my only escape.
I ran to my medicine drawer, utilizing the odd bits of strength I had left inside me. Fumbling through my things, my mind struggled with its memory for any clear recollection of what we were looking for. At this point the anger is infused with the anxiety, and my shaking is so profound. I find the Klonopin. Fuck. It’s in a plastic bag- no opening without scissors- I quickly remember the free floating tablets I leave in my bags for emergency. I head for the closet, but my chest has sank, sucking out of it all the air I had. I plunge for the doorknob, hoping to grab on in time to break my fall. I hold tight and firmly, lingering from it as my body becomes willowy and hard to manage. I sit down…pacing while I hyperventilate profusely. This is one big nightmare. My chest seems to become tight, as if the air I’m sucking in is hurting it. I lay down, trying to manage to get my head to the floor without extensive damage done. I manage to slowly lay down, without as much of a thump.
My body feels the coldness of the wooden floor, and it is refreshing to feel something solid beneath it. I press myself against the floor, hoping the hardness of it will stop my body from shaking. I plead for mercy. Whatever you are, please don’t take me. Don’t hurt me. I suck as much as I can in, and break open the closet, praying I can grab the bag with my last ounce of breath. No such luck. Where is the black bag? I knew I had two handy in there. I sink down low, my palms grasping the floor to hold me steady. I take more breaths. Gray- no- bookbag- no. Where was it? And then I remember that it may have fallen through beneath them, and I grab it and let go as my body sinks to the floor again, bag landing by my side. I’m clinging dearly to the floor again, as I pray again.
Please God, don’t take me. Whatever I did, I am so gratefully wrong. I can’t seem to summon the strength to get up, as I try to hold my arms up and raise my upper torso, but end up with enough energy to only land back down. I start coughing violently again, struggling to clear my throat of the menace stuck within it. There are scenes from movies played in my head. What would someone stuck on the floor do? Aha! Use all your body parts. I bend my leg and kick the bag in my direction, able to grab a hold of it with my hands. This, I think is the end. I can take my medication and slowly climb back down this ladder of perplexing emotion. I grab my bag and as I open the chain and stick my hand in to find the tiny little lifesavers, I can’t seem to find them. I grow ever more angry, and frustrated, feeling weak and wanting to give up.
After a few minutes, and some tentative drawbacks, I think to grab the smallest thing. I feel for it. Round- lip gloss, more roundness- lip gloss, more roundness-I curse myself for putting so many lip glosses in one bag! Look for something small and hard…says my mind. I find it. Eureka! With some breaths of relief, chest pumping hard, I lay my head back down and Thank God. I open it and let the pill dissolve in my mouth, being careful as to put it behind my tongue because of the violent coughing. I worry that it may still be too late, that the coughing will kill me. My mother will find me here choked to death on my anxiety medication. The pill dissolves in my mouth and out of the blue I realize all the coughing has made me want to urinate. Lucky me. I hope that I don’t pee in my pants.
I try to get up, and the coughing comes back. I struggle to find my way to the bathroom, my mind wary that I might fall down any moment. I sit down. After the release, I attempt to get back up slowly, needed to change my pad. I take the used one and try to wrap it but my hands are just tossing through toilet paper. I grab onto the sink. I splash cold water all over my face, rubbing my neck with it first. It feels good. I look at the face of a survivor in the mirror, my eyes glancing over the wild eyes, and the voice in me says this is enough. I look down into the faucet pool and talk to myself, wrapping my arms around me, assuring myself it would be okay, and that I am all I need. I said to myself: “you are all I have”.
