From the Shadows: An Anxiety Attack
- jilliannefarley
- Oct 15, 2023
- 4 min read
Updated: Oct 24, 2023
Each passing second stretches, and each heartbeat quickens. Slowly, yet tenaciously, each breath tightens. An anxiety attack builds slowly, sometimes for days and often from the shadows.
In the unsettling moments leading up to an anxiety attack, time warps. Each moment, passing exchange, thought, or shared expression, can pull the mind deeper into the echoing impending storm.
I lay awake one night in the safety of my bed with my husband sound asleep beside me, yet the clouds in my mind were darkening. Sharpley, I recalled that my husband, having always been an incredible support system, had asked that I try to describe my experience. At the time of his request, I felt unable to find the words. It felt impossible to describe in a way that would construct a visual or feeling that brought justice to the reality and weight of the experience.
So, in those moments that I lay awake in bed, in the conscious space before the anxiety took control of my sanity, I decided to put pen to paper.
I wrote this piece to try and illustrate the early stages of an anxiety attack from my perspective. It isn't logical. It isn't objective.
But I hope my description brings some reflection for others as well.
Echo
A shallow echo mummers beneath the thumping of my heart
The reverberations from each beat pulsating through my skin
Inching further and further up my throat.
Echo
Silence imprisons my tongue while screams fill the void in my brain.
Numbness tingles through my fingers, and yet my fingernails throb
The ground vibrates.
Echo
Echo
I take a deep breath, but it’s blocked by my heart in my throat.
Swallow to push it down.
My heart keeps striking against my chest.
Echo
My surroundings are muted. My motions robotic.
Echo
Why can’t I hear?
Why can’t I see?
Why can’t I speak?
Echo
Echo
I’m spinning. An itch that can’t be scratched.
Each heartbeat fuels the static in my eardrums.
The voice is farther away.
Quieter.
Fighting for space. Fighting to be heard.
Meanwhile, my body only gets louder.
Echo
Warmth comes in a flash.
I’m flush.
Echo
Just breathe
Spinning
Breathe
Itchy
Breathe
I can’t breathe.
Echo
I’m shocked out of my vortex like a switch without a dimmer.
“Did you hear what I said, babe? Can you grab the car keys?”
My blood warms beneath my skin, creating beads of sweat on my lower back.
My body is a kettle. The world my stove.
Wishing I could scream as my blood reaches the desired temperature.
I swallow to push my heart down from my throat.
“ya, I have the keys.”
“you ok?”
The check-in.
“oh ya, just a bit tired today.”
I slip my feet into my shoes, hoping my heels connect my soul to the ground.
The shoes that march me through reality. One step at a time.
A quick scratch behind my ear where the skin has become raw.
The spark of pain brings my boiling blood to a simmer.
The static fades. I pick up the car seat and head out the door.
Only 20 feet to the car.
It will be fun to see our friends. I’m glad we are getting out of the house.
I take deep breaths, hoping the rhythm of my heart will slow to the pace of my lungs.
But with each hurried beat, my thoughts radiate through my body.
I should meditate when I get home.
Did I take my meds today?
Maybe I should start therapy again.
Fuck. Did I make the bed?
When did I last change his diaper?
Did I remember to buy chicken at the grocery store?
I forgot to make that reservation for girls’ night.
Speaking of, I haven’t texted Alice back.
I need to take my son to see his great-grandmother.
I wonder how my husband is coping with the loss of his mom.
When was the last time I worked out?
Did I feed the dogs?
Fuck. There are wet clothes in the washing machine.
Echo
Did I leave the kettle on the stove?
Shit. I think I forgot to…
Echo
I need to organize my bedroom. That will make me less forgetful.
I need to
Echo
I need to clean the bathrooms before my mom comes by.
Did I remember to ask her about next weekend?
My shoes feel tight.
My once-loose sweater tightens on my beating throat.
“You sure you’re ok?”
The words are a defibrillator jolting me back.
“mhmm”
I ease his concern with a smile and realize I’m sitting in the car.
Physically motionless, mentally numb...
watching the trees zip by as we drive down the road.
. . .
.
.
When my forecast is changing, my husband may not be able to smell the looming rain or feel the wind, but he can pass me the umbrella when I ask — not questioning why I need it on a seemingly sunny day.
If you suffer from anxiety attacks, talk to your support network about how they can support you in those moments. While anxiety attacks build, panic attacks are sudden. Both are difficult to articulate. But it can be helpful to share that you are experiencing something, even if you can't put it in words. Ask for grace for your brain to return to the present moment.
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