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I thought I used to understand what a panic attack meant. I’m sure the past moments where I thought I was having an attack were attacks but maybe not to the degree I felt on the morning of Oct. 20th 2019.
My sister, my best friend, and the person who I want to impress most. She’s the person who says she feels like my mother but in reality I feel like she’s actually a mother figure to me as well. She’s like that person who you want to make sure you say every word right, just to impress her on all the things you know. I am in a constant state of trying to impress her. So her!
lol – she had been given the news that she had cancer.
within a night, the floor beneath my feet began to shatter. That night I spend the night with a massive headache and threw up from 3am – 9am. Straight. By 9am, it was mainly just fluid. I had nothing else to give. Exactly the way I felt for my sister. I had nothing else to give her to help. The news was the news. Her two best friends crawled into the bathroom and looked at me as if they could feel my insides screaming for news that the doctors had made a mistake. One of them already a professional nurse and the other applying for medical school, they grabbed my hand and said that it seems like your body experienced a six hour panic attack.
I was exhausted. Barely could move. My mind was trying to allow my body to process it but my body said “no-no” and in turn, processed it itself. My mind needed the physical emptiness to process the news. Looking back, I don’t remember a lot of those days but the six hours spent on the bathroom floor I remember all too well.
When I finally pulled myself off the bathroom floor, something changed and it was almost as if my body had given me a moment of pure grief to be released. Sometimes if you can’t give in, your body will do it for you. I often wonder what would have happened to my mental state & body if I hadn’t had my body give in for me. How long would I have made it?