The swing creaked as I swung, slowly. My parents had begun to argue again and, after two hours of listening, I figured I could use some air. I would have left at the beginning of the fight but they were in the living room, about ten feet from the door. When they finally moved I stayed, still in my room upstairs. I was too scared of what would happen if I ran off. If they would instead collectively yell at me; if they would think me weak and petty for being afraid.
I don't normally run, though I almost always want to. So this, sitting on a swing at the public park, was new. It was reckless; there was the possibility of something- anything- happening.
However, there were things other than the imminent danger I had recently brought upon myself to think about. Like my breathing, which at the moment was coming out in quick, short breaths. Or my vision, which was so blurred from tears that I couldn't see a thing through my thick-framed glasses. Or my heartbeat, which was way too fast- yet with no set pattern- to be healthy.
I knew what was happening, of course. It had happened a number of times before, all varying in causes. I was having a panic attack, as a result of my Panic Disorder, which I was diagnosed with at the lovely age of four. Now, at thirteen, I had mastered the art of calming myself down when in situations similar to the current one.
There were a few things that worked. First: music. It didn't matter what song or type; as long as there was a pattern or beat I could use it to distract myself. Alas, I did not have a way of listening to music with me, so this method was not an option. So, second: books. I was an avid reader and would use books to mask my pain not only from others but from myself. But, once again, I did not have a book with me, so that was out. So, finally, third: something to observe. I had the uncanny ability to distract myself with anything as long as it intrigued me. This option worked perfectly at the moment, considering I was in the middle of a park under the clear, night sky.
Looking up, I tried to observe the brilliant specks of light I had known for so long, but could not. Sighing, I turned to look around at the park, taking in every little detail. How the moonlight reflected off the shiny slide and onto the monkey bars. How the damp grass peaked out from beneath the wood-chips where the children who had played here during the day had scuffed them up.
I frowned, still crying hysterically from my spot on the swing. Nothing seemed to be working; no matter what I tried or where I looked I could not be distracted from the fear and distress emanating from my mind and heart. At this point I was out of ideas on what to do, so I stayed. Crying. Panting. Fearing.
I was terrified, but not of any fixed idea. Not of my parents' discipline. Not of the monsters that were sure to leap from the shadows at any given moment. Just, terrified. Because that's what panic attacks do. They make you afraid of nothing and everything at the same time. They scare and comfort you. And once they're done, emptiness. It ends with you feeling void and barren. But it also gives you a sense of relief. For someone who holds in their true emotions all of the time, it's nice to, at one point, just let go. To scream so hard that your throat hurts for days afterword. To cry so deeply you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. It's soothing.
Once my breathing had calmed, I stood up and began to walk. I wasn't sure where I was going but it wasn't home. I subconsciously decided to let my feet take me wherever they wanted. As I walked, I watched my surroundings. I walked past houses and buildings. Flowers and trees. Bikes and cars. But no people; the town curfew was 10:00 and no one was bent on breaking it.
That particular piece of information had always intrigued me. How even the people with the reputation to match something like breaking curfew, would never dream of it. In fact, whenever someone was asked, they would immediately defend themselves- or each other- asking how something so absolutely treacherous could be assumed of them. Once I had asked why it was in fact treacherous, but all they said was that if I didn't know now, I would soon. I never asked again.
