CW: Descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, social anxiety, & hypervigilance, addresses stigma toward mental illness, and the use of the term insane. Rather play it safe than sorry for anyone that reads this.  

Learn to count your pulse. 

Count backward from 10. 

Don’t be anxious, think positively. 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1:  

What can you see? 

What can you feel? 

What can you hear? 

What can you smell? 

What can you taste? 

Every time I explain my panic it’s the same recycled advice. 

They think I’ve never tried it before. 
 

I have my own methods now. 

Earbuds go in and rain sounds fill my ears. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, depriving myself of all other senses. 

Stress balls are always within arm’s reach. 

I squeeze and try to take long breaths. 

But I wheeze and my vision blurs 

I feel dizzy so I kneel,  

I try not to pass out. 

I feel heat coursing through my body,  

The way my hands pulse through every heartbeat. 

My mind races, and my throat tightens from an invisible strangler. 

I cough as I crawl to my feet. 

I stumble to the bathroom, 

And run the cold water over my hands, 

I feel moments of relief. 

I dip my face in my hands and hold my breath. 

It helps me slow down, but it’s not that easy to stop. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

Again. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again! 

I’m safe, it’s going to be okay. 

I’m safe, it’s going to be okay. 

I’m safe, it’s going to be okay. 

Repeat until insane. 
 

I’ve done this before; I can do it again. 

This is temporary, 

I’m not in danger. 

I usually don’t even know the trigger. 

These are some of my mantras 

Sometimes for hours. 

They are all I can think of, 

All I can say.  

I’m trying my best, but it lingers for days. 

The shaky fingers, my locking jaw. 

The fatigue and uncertain steps. 

I feel eyes on me, nearby sneers lash at my fragile mind. 

Some days I can ignore it, but on many, I creep in anxiety’s shadow 

And my heart ticks like the seconds on a clock. 

I run off of hypervigilance and spite. 

I am often very aware of my space,  

I watch the door because I hear too well. 

It is difficult to describe so picture this. 

You’re sitting in a room, writing at a desk, and the door slams. 

You flinch from the sound. 

Of course, that makes anyone jump, you say. 

But for me, I feel a sharp jolt up my arms through my hands, 

The slam creates a visceral shock in my nervous system, 

I almost feel an ache in my bones thinking about it. 

If I see it coming, I must race to block my ears 

Block them before it reaches me from across the room. 

Yet people still think mind over matter will save people like me. 

The stigma needs to stop. 

Anxiety is more than the head, it’s in the body as well. 

I’m not the only one who knows this, feels this. 

Yet people like me are treated like we asked for it. 

As if the days we spiral are a choice. 

Like it’s just for attention. 

They are wrong and they are fortunate. 

They know nothing and I envy it. 

But they do not deserve to feel an ounce of it. 

They just need to be more aware, more kind, and more conscious. 

That’s all I ask.