There’s a first time for everything: by Ashley Sinclair

Someone was stomping on my chest. Was it an elephant? Did my dog step on my chest when I was asleep? Was I making this up? I couldn’t tell. Nothing seemed real. Then I felt my skin start to tingle with sweat. My palms were shaky and my breath shortened. I couldn’t breathe. Oh my god, I couldn’t breathe. Mom? Anyone? Is anyone home? Oh my god, I’m going to die in the living room. I’ll just sit down on this couch. Is that what it is? I don’t know. I don’t care. Help.

 This was how my first panic attack that I can recall felt. I don’t remember exactly what caused it; perhaps maybe my mind thinking of the zillion things I needed to accomplish that day (I’m a perfectionist with feeling like I need to do ALL the things). I just remember not knowing exactly what was happening or when it was going to end. I felt a sense of relief and confusion once it did end.

 I went about my day and coming weeks as if nothing had happened until I talked to a friend with a similar experience. He told me he had experienced something similar and we really didn’t know what to do or say, but I just remember him telling me, “There’s a first time for everything.” Unfortunately for this experience, this was also not the last.