TW: Mention of Anxiety and Panic attacks
August:
Shit. Shit. Shit. Calm down. You're okay. It's okay. I look in the mirror and there are tears streaming down my face. Fuck. Really? A panic attack? Right now? I turn on the faucet and splash some water on my face. My nose and mouth are starting to go numb. I need to breathe. I take my phone and open the timer. Sometimes it helps to count my breaths.
After a few minutes of counting my breaths, I calm down. Thank god. That doesn't work every time but it's the best way to keep me from passing out. I look in the mirror, my eyes are puffy, I hope I wasn't too loud. I don't think I was. I turn on the cold water and press a small piece of wet toilet paper under my eyes to reduce the swelling.
I didn't notice before but this bathroom is also decorated with fake vines and red berries. When I finally didn't look like I had two black eyes, I opened the bathroom door. Andrew is standing there with his hand up like he was about to knock.
"Are you okay?" he whispers.
No.
"I'm good, just needed a minute."
He smiles "Just text me if you need anything, you don't have to say anything out loud."
That's actually not the worst solution.
"Thanks." I whisper.
YOU ARE READING
Learning to Cope
RomanceA promising nursing student volunteers for the "golden angels program" at his local hospital where he meets a man struggling with his mental health and the cards life has dealt him. How will he recover? (This story is the product of disassociating)
