It happened. It finally happened. My panic attacks returned. 

I wasn’t expecting my mental health problems to vanish as soon as the plane took off from LAX. I knew the mental baggage I was bringing was a whole other carry-on item I had to manage.

Within the past week, just when I least expected it, waves of anxiety and panic came flushing through my body again.  

How could this be happening? I haven’t felt like this in days. In weeks.

I was just sitting in the foreign teachers room at my school and out of no where it hit. 

This time it was a silent attack with no way to escape.  My heart was pumping out of my chest.

I turned to one of my normal relaxation techniques that I learned while completing in-patient treatment. Coloring.

Nothing. 

I was silently suffering as I tried to color an example worksheet for my students for the following week. 

The worst part about it, I didn’t know why this was happening to me.

A lot of times I never know why I’m feeling anxious. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It just happens.  

I was sitting there at my desk trying so hard to focus on my breathing. 

Nothing. 

I could not breathe. The room was getting hotter. My mind was racing so much that I could no longer color. 

And of course I didn’t have my medication with me. So I was just going to have to painfully ride it out. 

I’m doing a terrible job. My kids don’t like me. I don’t know how to teach. I can’t even color nicely. I’m a piece of shit. 

Those thoughts were circling around my mind during the few minutes of my attack. 

Then everything resumed normal like nothing had happened. I could hear what was going on around me again and my mind was calm.

It’s as if everything around me was a paused scene of a movie. As soon as I returned to my body, it resumed playing. 

Well that was scary, but I made it through. 

Unfortunately, a worse one came a couple days later. It started as I was trying to write this post for you.

My heart started to pound again. I wasn’t able to type full sentences or make any sense. I was going insane 

See Liz you can’t even write. You cannot do anything.

The paralyzing feeling again ran through my body. Time was inching closer to leave for dinner, but my mind told me I couldn’t go out with everyone. 

I wanted to cry because I was so scared. But my body couldn’t even function to bring out tears. I was shaking uncontrollably. The amount of effort it took to get out of bed only brought more pain to my chest. 

I have to stay in. I can’t let anyone see me like this. They don’t want to hang with me anyway. 

And right when I needed it the most, Meggie came into my room to check that I was ready to go.

Get your damn shoes on and get yourself food.

I hesitated to leave. I texted Meggie to come back to tell her I “wasn’t hungry,” which was a lie. But I didn’t want to go because I felt like I never snapped out of it. 

Luckily she never saw the text so I forced myself to go, even against everything my mind was telling me.

As always, my dark mind was wrong. It was a relaxing night with great people and aròi (delicious) food. I was back to enjoying myself. As if nothing happened. 

Of course I’m scared these attacks are going to keep happening. That the waves will never stop. 

It’s discouraging to feel like I was making strides, only to get pushed back down. But I just need to remind myself that with each battle, big or small, I am getting stronger. 

It may feel like it will never end, but I’m happy to say that my mind is truly seeing more light than darkness. 

Keep fighting!