Tag Archive | anxiety attack

Just write the words and everything is fine – everything is fine.

imageEverything is fine.

It’s good.

In fact, perhaps, just maybe, there’s a possibility things are even great – but I cannot say for certain for my heart, my heart is beating far too fast, so very, very fast. My thoughts are swiftly swirling, swirling, swirling into a vortex, into a void – spinning fast and furious, and then faster, faster still – pulling apart with magnificent, terrifying ease, the finely woven tapestry, the tapestry of * me *. Threads of my reality are fraying, strings and strands and tendrils of  . . . sanity? being swallowed by a nothingness I swear is all too real.

Silly, silly girl. I know. Everything is fine.

Tell it to my heart, it’s beating faster still.

Everything is fine. I must write the words to make them real. Words. Words. Which ones?

The right ones, the right ones of course.

imageWords. I must simply write the words because maybe things are great and I need do nothing more than read them to remind my beating (still too quickly) heart . . . remind my heart to tell me, tell me everything is fine.

Write the words and swallow half a little pill . . . write them, read them, once and then again, and then again once more.

The tempest quells, the words prevail – the words prevail once more.
Everything is fine.

Everything is okay, is everything really okay? Breathe.


Wake up. Just wake up. I can’t. I’m so tired and I need to wake up because I need out of this dream. It’s a dream. I’m awake. The feeling won’t go away. My heart is beating too fast. It swishing. Why am I still afraid? Nothing is wrong. Nothing. Is. Wrong.

Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong. This is more than anxiety this time. Something is wrong. It’s too quiet. Are the kids okay? It might have rained last night and the roads are probably wet, I wonder if he made it to work okay?

Someone would have called if he didn’t. Right? Maybe I should text him. I wonder if my mom is okay. I didn’t talk to my daughter yesterday. She called and I missed it and I didn’t call back. She didn’t call me again. Is everything okay?

Dammit. Something is wrong.

Just breathe through it.

It’s hard to breathe.

My heart is swishing.

Everything is okay.

Dammit. It’s not.

Okay. It will pass. How long? I felt like this yesterday too. It’s worse today and it’s going to keep getting worse. Maybe I should call and check on everyone. What if something is wrong though? What if I call and the phone rings while they are driving? They’ll have an accident. I’m not calling. Everything is fine.

I’m holding my breath again. Stop doing that. My heart is swishing. I think I messed up something yesterday. What did I forget? It was important, I think. I screwed something up again.


Something just doesn’t feel right. I can feel my heart in my arms and my head and my legs. Breath through it. It’s not real.

It’s real.

Your mind is telling you lies, it’s anxiety. It’s a liar. What if this time something is wrong though? I didn’t charge my phone last night. Something might have happened and I didn’t get the call because the phone is dead. No one is dead. Everyone is okay. Why didn’t I call her back yesterday? She was fine. Nothing was wrong or she would have said so when she said to call her back.


Stop holding your breath, dammit.

Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh,

A tubby, little cubby all stuffed with fluff.

He’s Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh,

A willy, nilly, silly old bear.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Still swishing.

Geez, stop crying. So stupid. Willy, nilly, silly old bear.

Stupid. This is so stupid. Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff. It’s not working. I can’t go to the store today. This is a warning. It’s a warning. If we all stay in the house it’ll be okay. I heard one of the boys leave this morning. I think I heard one of them leaving. He’s supposed to tell me when he goes out. Why did he even leave the house? This is ridiculous. He’s probably in his room. He’s not. It might start raining.








Willy, nilly, silly old bear . . .


Last night’s Dreams won’t release me

their Icy fingers won’t let me go

Holding, Squeezing, gripping

I Can’t regain control
       Anxious Oppression,

I can’t still My heart
       Shallow Breath, I need to breathe
        I’m lost Once it starts
       Shallow Breath, why can’t I breathe

I feel it just Under my skin
Poisonous Lies

from some Acrimony within
    Shadows Torment
   They only Exist in my mind

Last night’s Dreams won’t release me

The Monster is Me

Artwork by Carl Otto Hulten

Artwork by Carl Otto Hulten


Always lurking, it lays in wait

hiding in shadows

cast by the light

Stealthy it stalks

just out of sight

it creeps in

and holds me

in the darkest

of night

It whispers

it taunts

it teases

with fright

Soundless echos

in the back

of my mind

I’ve nowhere to run

I’ve nowhere to hide

This thing that I fear

is somewhere inside

It slithers through thoughts

it sneaks into dreams

it binds and it shackles

with chains I can’t see

a lock without key

I cannot break free

I’m bound

and imprisoned

because the

monster is me

  . . . anxiety.

Crystal R. Cook

Anxiety . . .

Anxiety  . . .

Every now and then I try to capture in words what anxiety feels like, I’ve yet to succeed. I hope when I do, it remains trapped, words upon a page I can fold up and be rid off . . . 

Chaos amidst calm.

I try
to understand,
to overcome,
but screams
of silence
no one else
can hear,
echo within me,
surrounding me.
They fill the air,
denying me

Inside I tremble,
falling to my knees
at the foot of despair,
pleading the silent
cacophony to end.

Afraid to open
my eyes and see
I’ve been seen,
my hidden fears

Do they hear the
beating of my heart
racing to the edge
of my false reality,
to fail?

Do my eyes
reveal my angst?
Can they
see the sweat
glistening upon
my brow?

How can I fear

I know
there is
to be feared.

I know
there is
to fear.

I crumble.

Around me,

the same.

out of place.

and yet . . .

It wells up,
flows through veins,
fills the heart,
clouds the mind,
squeezes the soul.

It is nothing,
yet I fear it
and the fear
consumes me.

A fear that has
not name
nor reason.

I find no refuge
until it’s taken
just enough
to leave me
a little more
than before,
fearing not
the fear itself,
but it’s

Crystal R. Cook