Five—One Grounding

Five—Locked in a perpetual battle against my failing senses and reason, I fight to survive, to get through; I am afraid of... nothingandeverythingallatonce—...—my mouth is dry, and my muscles seize up... what can I see? I can see the birdcage and birds; I can see the watercolour my beautiful wife painted many years ago and unlocked her journey into art; I can see the empty mug of tea as it sits perilously on the arm of the sofa; how many is that now? Three down, two to go; I can also see a jackdaw on the roof of our neighbour's house across the road and a bookcase of potential—Five things you can see.

Four—As the battle rages against my temporary loss of all sense of reason—...—rational, vision still dances in and out of focus, and my heart might rupture as the fear continues to grip me, I now think about things I can touch. I can touch my trusty notepad filled with stories untold and poems unrealised; I can touch the comforting and warming sweater that soothes me; I can touch Alexa and ask her for random facts about nitro-glycerine and touch my toes— Four things you can touch.

Three—I am winning the battle; I can feel the subsidence of my palpal—...—pal—palpitations and breathing as I think about what I can hear. A car just pulled out of our street with a bit of a screech and a beep at what I suspect is another car failing to give way; I can hear my poodle Mick barking his head off because he probably heard a twig fall in the garden outside and I can hear the washing machine play out its tune to signify the cycle has finished—Three things you can hear.

Two—I feel the weight—...—the burden, the impending doom lessen in its grasp, its hold of me, as I remember the next step. What can I smell? Well, as I've missed a few showers recently, unfortunately, I can smell the deep and claggy scent of a body unwashed, and at the mere thought of it, I feel it enter my nostrils and fill my lungs. I can also smell the faint scent of bleach on the gentle breeze that blows through the house of a cleaner bathroom—Two things you can smell.

One—As my body and mind calm and I feel the mounting pressure—...—untampered insanity diminishes and releases me from its grasp, I can taste only the remnants of a custard-filled, sugar-dusted donut and sadness. The world does not feel as implosive as it did a few moments ago; my life does not feel like it's on a razor's edge as I sit and breathe deeply and close my eyes for some semblance of peace—One thing you can taste.

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Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: I have only had one panic attack that was a panic attack in my life, though I live on almost a knife's edge of anxiety brimming beneath the surface. I have never used the grounding technique, but I know how helpful it is. So, I thought this was a good and useful approach to the challenge.

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