People when they light fireworks, they run away as fast as they can before they explode.
Some of us can't make it fast enough.
It's started- and you know what it is. Like a bullet fired, you can't stop it's course unless you jump in front of it, and then, well. You'll just die. Maybe you'd rather die, because you know what's coming. The sweat starts to flee from your body, as the driest fear is thirsty. So you close your eyes for just a second, but the darkness is so loud that it pops the hinges off your lids. Your eyes will not close again. For just a second you try to breathe, but your sigh cracks in half. Now your lungs are on double duty, working out two breaths at once. You might not breathe again. Swallow. You tell yourself to swallow. Your spit gets afraid somewhere on the way down, so it runs back up your throat before it gets lost in the unknown of your insides. Your brain tingles, and drifts to sleep. Moments later it jolts awake, avoiding a very bad dream. Then you feel like you could throw up. Not the stuff that's in your stomach, but you could vomit the stars. You could hurl thunder and lightning bolts and the Nordic sea. You could drown in the oxygen that surrounds you. Every new position and thought is just a cliff, and you will always teeter on the edge. It does not matter how you sit, or what you think. You are on a cliff. You really would love to just jump. Free fall into whatever it is that could save you from this feeling. You know you won't jump. In your darkest moments of horror you are not going to be brave and jump. You are going to weep, and beg the universe for safety. In such desperate situations, the firmament will hear you. It will do something.
It will help you realize the cliff you stand on is such a beautiful view. It is nothing you have ever seen before, and you wouldn't dare try to describe it. You sit and stare at your entire life for a moment. You see yourself as a little girl again, and you understand that she's who you'll always be. You are her. It touches you so deeply that you just cry. That fear, it was not after your sweat. It was after your tears. So you cry and cry and it feels so good and your fear drinks it up and retreats. Your wet eyes are a vibrant blue underneath closed lids. Your puffy lips take in one steady, unbreakable breath. You swallow space, and thunderstorms and oceans. Your stomach rumbles softly a little bit, but you don't mind because....you are dreaming.
This is my experience with anxiety. It always happens this way. I get it for various reasons that are mostly unknown. I was inspired to write this when earlier tonight, Kaleb became very ill. So he took a trip to our bathroom. Now this might seem like a small glitch compared to bigger problems, but let me assure you it is not. I have a white hot phobia of throw up. I have never done it before, and I don't know what it's like, but I do know that I am so afraid of it. I want to perform exorcisms on people who are throwing up. So Kaleb told me I had better cover my ears. I ran to the front door. I would have ran outside if I had shoes. I couldn't grab shoes because then I would have to pass the bathroom. I pressed myself up against the door and plugged my ears so tightly that I couldn't even hear my thoughts. (Which is good, because I didn't want to think.) So I stayed there for a good 15 minutes. Then I crawled over to my laptop, drug some headphones across the floor and plugged them in with my feet. (So as not to take my hand off my ears.) Then I blasted music. That was two hours ago, and I still have my headphones on blasting music, just in case. It disappoints me, because Kaleb comes out of the bathroom apologizing to me. I should be the one who is sorry. I should have increasing compassion on his situation. I only sit here and quiver, and feel sorry for myself. I can't help it.