When the line goes down.

[thepassive]

When I was growing up I used to get really bad panic attacks at night before I went to bed. Some nights I wouldn’t be able to shake them and I would stay up all night. I didn’t know what was wrong with me or how to make them stop. I thought something was very wrong with me, like I was going crazy. I never told anybody about them because I was afraid that I might actually be crazy. When I was in 4th grade they got worse. They became an almost every day thing. One night my mom came into check on me while I was freaking out, she noticed something was wrong and asked me about it. I didn’t want to tell her anything. Eventually I calmed down and fell asleep. She never brought it up again. Over the next couple of years they became less and less frequent. Until recently I hadn’t had one since jr. year of high school. I know what triggered them then. They started the day I found out about my little sister and was dumped by my first real girl friend. (Honestly one of the worst days of my life.) I started drinking shortly after that. They went away from several years and then when I moved to my apartment they started happening again. They were no longer restricted to late at night. For the first few weeks they would happen whenever I was alone in my apartment with nothing to do. They stopped for a little while. That was until yesterday when I had the most intense attack of my life. Usually when I have them my chest just gets tight and my mind races with all these horrible thoughts and I can hear my heart beat in my head. Yesterday my vision went white my legs went weak and my hands were trembling uncontrollably. I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and rock back and forth. In all the years I’ve been having these yesterdays was defiantly the scariest one. It felt like I was about to lose control of everything. Losing control is an intensely frightening thought for me. I know I bottle everything up and when these attacks happen it really does feel like I’ve lost control of my emotions. It feels like I am actually going crazy. I’m just so fucking tired of all of this. I want to feel ok sitting in my apartment with nothing to do. I think this might be why I’m such a fucking workaholic. I’ve know for years that my mental health wasn’t the best. I’ve always been able to deal with it. I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I’m tired. Even now while I’m sitting here I can feel my chest getting tight. I don’t want to go home because I know when I get there I’m going to have one.

Fuck this.