Release The Panic

I can feel myself swinging violently between heartbeats. I felt this coming. Like a storm rolling in over the coast, I could see it, feel the tingle on my skin, taste it in the air.

And just like a storm, I could do nothing but wait for it to arrive, and hope it would pass peacefully.

On the outside, I laugh more, I am more aggressive, I shift and change like the wind. I am volatile.

On the inside, there is a constant scream, like a siren, and an incessant drumming in my skull, muddling my thoughts and muddying my mind.

I am at the mercy of this manic typhoon.

Tortured, frantic, silently hysteric.

I’m imploding.

Panicked. Terrified. I feel sick.

I can’t focus, can’t think straight, can’t see straight…

I’m either going to hit the wall or hit someone else. It’s a flash, a sudden flip from tired and depressed to furious and fiery.

I have to distract myself, I have to find a way to be normal, to regain control.

I can’t let them see me like this; they can’t know this side of me.

I can’t let them realize just how crazy I really am.

Unhinged, untethered, unanchored.

They ask what’s wrong. I just laugh louder, harder, and more often. I change the subject.

Classic misdirection.

I’m terrified of what will happen to me if I continue to keep this trapped inside me. I am much more afraid of what would happen if I let this violent beast loose. It could very well destroy me.

I wish I could just be okay. I just want to be level.

Just for a while. Just for once.

I have to find something to bring me back to even keel.

Maybe this cigarette will help. Or maybe this drink.

I feel like I’m falling; grasping, reaching, straining for something, anything, to pull me from my spiral.

They say I’m impulsive when I’m like this. I simply see it as being desperate for homeostasis. Everything in me is trying to find peace, and at the same time, attempting, failing, to hide the chaos roaring within.

I’m left in the middle of these howling winds, hugging trees, praying for the end of the monsoon. I’m waiting out the storm, hoping I survive this torrential downpour.

These cycles turn me upside-down.

I want a normal, stable life. My desire to live creates an ache that almost makes me want to die.

This struggle makes me feel weak. Is that what this is? Is this just…weakness? Frailty?

This is all too much to think about.

I need to sleep.

Maybe when I wake up, I’ll be through the worst of it.