Floating on Daydreams

Consternation

I feel unwanted. I am lost in a sea of faces where I am unrecognizable, unnoticed and drowning. I cannot talk. I cannot breathe. I cannot see. All for the simple fault of being who I am.

What is wrong with me?

Have you ever had a panic attack? The kind where your chest constricts and you can't breathe? Have your limbs automatically curled up so that you were in a foetal position, as though your body feels like it'll be safe from everything just because it takes up less space? Have you ever involuntarily hurt yourself while trying to protect yourself from something you don't even know the name of?

If you have, I am sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that, because it's the most terrifying feeling in the world. 

I started having these attacks about four years ago, but I managed to hide them and convince myself and others that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. What I didn't realize was that not telling somebody could be dangerous. Which is why, after my last panic attack yesterday, I'm telling you. After half an hour of rocking back and forth, crying uncontrollably about goodness knows what, I managed to calm down. I went to the bathroom to wash my face, but what I saw in the mirror only set me off again. Red eyes, swollen cheeks, bleeding lips, small cuts on my arms where my nails dug in, and scrunched up hair. The worst part was that I did that to myself, and I wasn't even aware of the fact that it was happening.

I can always tell when I'm about to have an attack. The day generally starts off fine, but then gets bleaker and slower, until I realize I am disconnected from everything  around me. After that, all it takes is an insult, a joke made at my expense or a slightly insensitive remark to trigger it. Sometimes, even a cursory glance at a mirror can start a chain reaction that leads to these attacks, as though my reflection is a lynchpin for the dominoes to fall and create a butterfly effect, the result of which is far from from pleasant.  Why do normal things, simple, trivial things, set off unbridled chaos in my head, you ask?

I have no idea.

This is not a cry for help. This is not a ploy to seek attention or pity. This is not a fictional piece of writing for a single letter on a sheet of paper that could control my future. This is just me stating how I feel on a regular, almost daily basis. This is me attempting to alleviate any feelings of loneliness others who go through something similar might feel, because I am like them. They are not alone. 

You are not alone. 

But in a way, I feel like I  am.