Honestly, the reason I haven't posted in weeks is because I've been better. The reason I'm posting now is because I'm not. That's what happens I guess.
In the weeks that I was better, I felt on top of the world. Suddenly everything was looking up. I thought I was getting a job and I wasn't freaked out about it. I wasn't anxious at all actually. I rode home on the trolley, which is usually a challenge. It was actually the only time during weeks past that I felt a little bit anxious.
I felt totally fine walking to the trolley. I had everything ready to go. Even waiting in the terminal was fine. That would usually be the part that I would get shaky at. Waiting. Waiting is always my weakness. When I have to wait for something, my mind starts going. I start thinking about the fact that I'm not panicked and what about the current situation would freak me out. Then I get freaked out. But waiting in the terminal I was fine. It was waiting on the actual train that gave me a moment of uncertainty. I was sitting by myself with my backpack on my lap and my duffle on the seat next to me. I leaned my head against the window and saw the blackness of the terminal outside. My eyes wondered to the sliding doors of the trolley. They were staying open for the late passengers to arrive. I thought about how when they closed I was stuck inside of the car until the next stop. There was no turning back. Stuck. My hands started to shake and my breathing got heavy. I then stopped the panic attack in its tracks. I closed my eyes and turned "Marching Band of Manhattan" by Death Cab for Cutie on my iPod. I turned the volume up very high and had a flow of memories to the song. The first time I heard it, my brother was driving me in my Dad's Mountaineer to my middle school during the summer. I was picking up my schedule and forms for the 8th grade. I fell in love with the song. My mind fast forwards to 6 months later. I have the album on my brand new iPod Nano that I got for Christmas that year. My friends and I are in the cafeteria trying to sneak listens so that the lunch proctors don't catch us with it. I tell my best friend Sarah to listen to "Marching Bands of Manhattan", she looks up at me and tells me it's awesome and she wants the CD. She then listens to a song called "What Sarah Said" off of the same album just because it has her name in it. Then I wonder what Sarah's doing right now, will I see her tonight when I go home? I then think about how that memory is 6 years old but is still fresh in my mind. I open my eyes. The doors close. The train starts moving. I'm calm. I repeat the song the whole train ride home. I stare out the window and watch the world go by as fast as I feel time does. Panic is gone.
All of that detail in a small attack that I got through. My attacks got worse when I went home this past week for Thanksgiving. Even though everything in the suburbs is still, I felt like it was moving so fast. I think that my biggest problem in life is that as often as I try to stop time, I feel it moving past as fast as it does on the train. Which makes me feel out of control. Like I'm riding down a steep hill on a bike, my brakes don't work, and I know I'm gonna crash. Times like on the train I find a way to roll into the grass and slow down, other times I face-plant on the pavement.
In the weeks that I was better, I felt on top of the world. Suddenly everything was looking up. I thought I was getting a job and I wasn't freaked out about it. I wasn't anxious at all actually. I rode home on the trolley, which is usually a challenge. It was actually the only time during weeks past that I felt a little bit anxious.
I felt totally fine walking to the trolley. I had everything ready to go. Even waiting in the terminal was fine. That would usually be the part that I would get shaky at. Waiting. Waiting is always my weakness. When I have to wait for something, my mind starts going. I start thinking about the fact that I'm not panicked and what about the current situation would freak me out. Then I get freaked out. But waiting in the terminal I was fine. It was waiting on the actual train that gave me a moment of uncertainty. I was sitting by myself with my backpack on my lap and my duffle on the seat next to me. I leaned my head against the window and saw the blackness of the terminal outside. My eyes wondered to the sliding doors of the trolley. They were staying open for the late passengers to arrive. I thought about how when they closed I was stuck inside of the car until the next stop. There was no turning back. Stuck. My hands started to shake and my breathing got heavy. I then stopped the panic attack in its tracks. I closed my eyes and turned "Marching Band of Manhattan" by Death Cab for Cutie on my iPod. I turned the volume up very high and had a flow of memories to the song. The first time I heard it, my brother was driving me in my Dad's Mountaineer to my middle school during the summer. I was picking up my schedule and forms for the 8th grade. I fell in love with the song. My mind fast forwards to 6 months later. I have the album on my brand new iPod Nano that I got for Christmas that year. My friends and I are in the cafeteria trying to sneak listens so that the lunch proctors don't catch us with it. I tell my best friend Sarah to listen to "Marching Bands of Manhattan", she looks up at me and tells me it's awesome and she wants the CD. She then listens to a song called "What Sarah Said" off of the same album just because it has her name in it. Then I wonder what Sarah's doing right now, will I see her tonight when I go home? I then think about how that memory is 6 years old but is still fresh in my mind. I open my eyes. The doors close. The train starts moving. I'm calm. I repeat the song the whole train ride home. I stare out the window and watch the world go by as fast as I feel time does. Panic is gone.
All of that detail in a small attack that I got through. My attacks got worse when I went home this past week for Thanksgiving. Even though everything in the suburbs is still, I felt like it was moving so fast. I think that my biggest problem in life is that as often as I try to stop time, I feel it moving past as fast as it does on the train. Which makes me feel out of control. Like I'm riding down a steep hill on a bike, my brakes don't work, and I know I'm gonna crash. Times like on the train I find a way to roll into the grass and slow down, other times I face-plant on the pavement.
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