My Panic Attacks

My Panic Attacks

They say,

sit down,

count to ten,

breathe.

As if I haven’t tried that.

As if numbers could melt

the cold that crawls my neck,

spreading upward,

tightening the back of my head,

turning my thoughts to glass,

my stomach to knots,

my body to stone.

It grabs my ribs,

chokes my throat,

makes the floor tilt,

and I wait to fall,

to pass out,

to stop feeling this.

And then,

gone.

Like a cruel trick.

But it waits,

hiding in the next breath,

the next heartbeat,

the next second I stop bracing.

This week, Docincreases my meds,

100 mg of sertraline to build a wall,

propranolol to slow the storm

Calm the fear inside my chest

And still, it comes.

But I’m still here.

Shaken, tired, angry sometimes,

but here.

in between the attacks I feel good

then out of the blue they come.

So don’t tell me it’s simple.

Don’t tell me to sit down and count.

Just be quiet,

stay close,

and let me survive this

my own way.

To some, it’s a panic attack.

To me, it’s frightening,

and something I can’t control.

Please let my tab increase stop it.

Please, God