My mother understands what it's like. The fuzzy mind and tingling feeling on my lips and the very tips of my fingers. The sudden warmth that heats my body along with the thin sheet of sweat that lies just under my nose and atop my upper lip, that oldly appears there only. The drum-like sound of my heart beat that will soon become the only thing I hear. My mom and I share a connection the runs so incredibly deep and I wouldn’t want it any other way. She’s the one I can go to when I am having a panic attack, and even when I get the slightest bit uncomfortable or when my anxiety rises. Small things like waking up late or driving on the highway that may not seem like the worst thing in the world to some people, personally freak me out and all I wanna do it take a nap to get rid of the feeling.

I know it's pretty ridiculous how worked up I get, even about something as small as the thought of waking up late, but it gets serious when I can’t go to sleep because of it. Worry, fear, and anxiety fill me to the point where all I can do is toss and turn in bed and unknowingly freak myself out. By that I mean I make the smallest of issues or situations become a huge deal and don’t even realize I am doing it. Over the past month I recently started trying to write down what I am feeling at night to help get rid of the panic feel that grows up inside. I also make sure that every night before going to bed I double check my alarm to insure it's going to go off and wake me up at that exact time.

It was a chilly Sunday morning and it was the first day I was going to start volunteering as a child care provider for the children's ministry at my church. I was expected to be there by 8:30 to have quick discussion before going to the first service, which started at 9AM. I was excited as a toddler with candy to do this because not only would it go towards volunteer hours for NHS but I would gain child care experience and it's also a way to get more connected with my church. That morning I was awoke by my soon-to-be stepdad telling me it's time to head out to car, and that's when the train of anxiety started moving along the rusty railroad tracks. Of course Jeff didn’t have a clue that I was still sleeping as he got up and ready for church, it's not like me to wake up late. I am a very responsible teenager and this usually doesn’t happen like ever.

I don’t think I have ever moved so fast to get ready in my life, 8:16am lit up my phone screen when it finally clicked in my mind that I had woken up incredibly late. I literally jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom with tears already clouding my vision and I was hit with a wave of anxiety and panic. The pounding of my own heart beat slowly became the only thing I heard. I started to brush my teeth when my fingers began to tingle and my body began to heat up. I don’t recall much of that morning because of the frantic feelings and emotions that coursed inside me and the crazy running around trying to get ready. Although I do remember leaving my make-up for last because, I didn’t want the uncontrollable flow of tears to mess it up.

As we drove the familiar route to our church I was still in a slight panic with the tingling on my lips not yet gone, but when Jeff told me, “Calm down and don’t worry I called the service desk and they said is was fine if we were a little late. But they completely understand and are happy to have us volunteer.” And after hearing this I was able to take a deep breath and call my mother. The one who was able to completely calm me down; her beautiful voice, “It's going to be okay Onna, take deep breaths and calm down. Everything is fine.” The recovery time after one of my panic attacks is kind of depressing and disappointing, especially if it's over something small and quite ridiculous. But with the comfort of my mother and her understanding point of view on the situation I can be myself and explain to her what happened.