Anxiety attacks feel like being entirely submerged underwater, unable to breathe, to see, to hear. Fear takes over everything, and the whole world shrinks as panic grows.
The mind keeps repeating “what if, what if, what if” freezing me with horror, taking me to the nightmare of being homeless and hungry over, and over, and over again.
– What is your biggest fear? – I asked Heather the other day, she got pensive for a second and laughed nervously.
– What are your plans for this weekend? – she quickly shifted the subject, opening up and showing her real self was not something she was ready to do.
– I thought you will be with Dave.
I shook my head, – There was something wrong about Dave, something fake. He kept smiling playing the role of a real gentlemen with chivalry and manners. “I am from Michigan, and I am a gentleman, Vixen”. At the same time, he was persistent about taking me to his car and bringing me to his place. “You will love it, it is nice and big and on the water”. His invitations were denied. I like big dicks and sincerity; big houses and fakeness do not impress me much.
Panic hit me in the face that morning. I had difficulty breathing and tried to drink some water to relieve tension. My throat shrank, as I was attempting to swallow. I crawled under the blanket; feeling the softness of the plush with both legs was comforting. I started stroking myself under the covers, watching the bluishness of the fish tank water. I wish I were like my tetras; eating, swimming, mating. Watching the fish was relaxing. I felt better. Another attempt of sipping water was more successful, I felt the refreshing coldness in my stomach and smiled. The fear of poverty and hunger got smaller. I was ready for pull-ups and shopping.
Jim kept texting until I block his number. I needed a new job, he wanted sex. I asked for help, he asked for the permission to stop by and f*ck. There was obviously no match between us.
Heather gave me a call later offering to go boating. Watching the sun and the water had always been the biggest healer. I eagerly accepted the invitation and threw a couple of apples in my purse for lunch prior leaving my apartment. Boats always balanced me out, healed my panics, gave me the reality check I needed. The brackish water was calm and greenish. We had to proceed slowly in order not to hit manatees, I kept waving to elderly couples in passing boats, watching lovely seafront villas. Air in the ears, water on my skin. The panic waned, I started smiling, back on the boat and happy again.
– You previously asked me about my fears, Vixen.
– Yes, – I stopped rubbing sun-screen on the shoulders and looked at Heather. Surprisingly, she remembered our recent conversation.
– I am afraid to get old.
I saw the fear in her eyes and gave her a hug. – You should be happy if you manage to die old my dear. Not everyone is that lucky. Plus, you have enough savings to enjoy your life once males stop providing for you. You will always have the lifestyle an average girl will never be able to afford.
– I know, – she giggled and nervously changed the conversation.
Our fears were similar in severity. She was scared to lose her beauty and her power over wealthy guys, I was scared to lose the roof over my head unable to feed my son. She coped with her panic through faking happiness, I welcomed my demons since running away from them made no sense. I neither hid from myself, nor fought with the inevitable. I observed the panic, listened to the crazy mind-talk knowing that sooner or later the anxiety will walk away, and I will be able to move on. It was my way of coping, and it helped.
My anxiety was gone, I slept good that night, and woke up rested the next morning.