It's been almost a whole year.
I guess I should've known it would happen again.
It's so sneaky. I think I'm okay, then the next minute, I'm not.
I try to talk myself out of it... "I'm better than this! Just breathe!"
But it slowly builds and starts to take over my world.
Then I can't breathe.
As much air as I'm taking in, you'd think I'd pass out, but it's not enough.
I see darkness trying to creep over my vision.
Fresh air doesn't help.
Everything is wrong. "But there is no reason to panic!" I tell myself.
I'm hot. And cold. And dizzy. I don't think it is going to stop.
I look for him, my husband, watching me from our bed.
He doesn't know how to help. He can't feel how out of control I am.
But I need him. I get off the floor and find my way to the bed.
I can't control the breathing.
I lay beside him. He's warm.
His arms surrounds me, and his steady hand starts to circle my back.
He's done this before. He knows how to chase away the panic that has taken over.
I don't know what I'd do without him at this point.
I concentrate on the slow, steady circles. My heart begins to slow.
My mind stops spinning, and I realize how tired I am.
How long has it been? Did I wake the baby?
My breathing starts to become manageable.
But my head is pounding.
Sleep. I just want sweet sleep.
He called from work this morning to see how I was.
I was hoping it was just a nightmare.