Inside an Anxiety Attack

It’s 8:58 am on a Wednesday morning. I dropped my older daughter off at school and was driving back home with my youngest daughter. The last minutes of MSNBC’s Morning Joe were playing on the radio and I was feeling a sense of dread.

I love me some Mika Brzezinski and Joe Scarborough
photo credit msnbc.com

I had been really struggling with my depression in the weeks leading up to that day. My Prozac seemed to not be working as well as it had been before. But it was okay! I had a psychiatrist appointment scheduled for the next morning. I just had to make it through one more day.

Dread was washing over me. My breath was getting quicker and my mind was racing. I tried to focus on Morning Joe but was unable to concentrate on anything other than getting my daughter and I to my house safely before everything fell apart.

By the time I pulled into my driveway I was in full panic mode. I was having anxiety about having an anxiety attack. I was shaking. I grabbed my daughter out of the car and ran inside. Dread had almost blanketed my entire body. I gently placed my child down in front of the TV that I neglected to turn off before we left earlier that morning. I walked straight to the kitchen and over to the cabinet above the sink where I keep my collection of medication. I glared at the cabinet and grimaced. I needed a Xanax but I have a love/hate relationship with it. I know that it works fast at calming me down and really helps me return to my normal state. But my anxiety was loudly telling me that Xanax is bad and I shouldn't be taking it. My depression was whispering that I am a terrible person who cannot control her emotions. I started to hyperventilate. My face and shirt was wet from sweat and tears. I hunched my body over the sink and alternated between sobbing and hyperventilating. Dread had completely covered me up.

My kitchen sink where it all went down.

Just then, my youngest danced into my thoughts. She reminded me of my value, loved ones and my strength. Slowly I stood up and grabbed the bottle of pills. I tossed one into my mouth and swallowed it dry. I turned towards the kitchen door and waited. Like magic, within minutes I stopped crying and my breathing returned to normal. Dread recoils and retreats. I walked out of the kitchen and over to my daughter. I sat down next to her and hugged her. I was okay.

Xanax glitter party

Needing to rely on medication does not make you weak or a bad person. Using medication makes you an incredibly smart, strong and responsible person for taking control of your mental health.