Anxiety Attacks (Septiplier)

Anxiety [11]

Anxiety. He has anxiety.

He didn't tell me this, no--I had to learn the hard way.

We were sat in his room, luckily, when it had happened. We had been talking about his family--something we'd never touched upon before--and I had brought up his parents.

Which was something I regretted later on.

When I had mentioned them, his smile had immediately disappeared, a great frown replacing it. He had bowed his head, staring at his lap for a few seconds; and then his head had snapped up, tears filling his eyes.

I had asked him what was wrong--he had told me in a weak voice that it wasn't important, that I wouldn't understand. I told him I'd try my best to do so, but he just kept shaking his head, repeating to me--and then to himself--that I wouldn't understand what he's been through.

I had then startled as tears began streaming down his face and he began mumbling to himself. He's now saying things about how no one would ever understand him, about how no one could ever know what he was going through. He goes on about how he doesn't know what to do, about how he needs help. His breathing gets harder and faster and his hands rise up to tear at his hair as his eyes clench shut.

My own eyes widen as my lessons from before came back to me. I immediately stand up and kneel in front of where he is sitting, carefully reaching out my hands and placing them on his knees. He flinches away, sobbing and shaking. I shush him gently, telling him that I am here and that I'd never leave him--that I'd always be there for him.

I knew I'd have to make a report about his panic attack later, but that's not what matters right now--all that matters is that he is okay. I gently tell him to look at me (I have to tell him this three or four times before he actually does so) and place my hands on top of his. I take deep breaths in and out, softly commanding that he follow me.

And he does. He begins trying to breathe slowly as hiccups wrack his frail body. I remind him of how good a job he is doing, continuing our routine of in, out, in, out.

"I believe in you."