I hope you did not come here looking for instructions on how not to panic, that is not something I have achieved and therein lays my motivation to write for you at this very moment. In the present moment where I am writing upon my laptop, reader, I am writing to calm myself down. I am writing to deport my stress, to kick it out!
I feel so tightly wound, I feel as though I may burst - not quite like a balloon does. I feel like I could burst but not as any living thing has managed to before, no. The way I feel now, if I was to burst I would would not pop or bang, I would ooze. My stress, my worry, my tension, my anxieties, my sensory overload, my being overwhelmed would all ooze from my arms and chest like emerald green lava with bright white veins, expanding and streaking as it flows, effortlessly. The lava would know exactly where to go, it would take it's own direction because its being driven out of my body. You see, fear can not stay trapped and it can not survive the heat that resides at the summit of an anxious cycle. Fear boils very very quickly, it curdles and it whistles - the whistle in fact travels right through my limbs, it is the sound, embodying the sensation of stinging, burning soreness that takes hold of my arms and legs when my anxiety and fear peaks.
What can calm me? When I am so convinced that this feeling, this weight on my chest and shortness of breath is the prelude to my inevitable end...almost nothing can calm me. At this point, I am no longer interested in calm, I am desperate for relief - and you don't want me to tell you what that means. I have made a habit of beating my brain to it by racing to call it another name. I call it, the 'stopping'. I do not want to end, I just want it to stop. The difference is profound and it is the one degree that helps to slow it down. Don't tell me that shades of grey, nuance and distinction is irrelevant because if the world of words truly was black and white? There'd be no me. Words are so powerful, words tip me or balance me and I am not always so cognisant to remember that I am the utterer, not only the victim of what is uttered.
And just now for a moment, about four-hundred and twenty words worth of a moment, I felt calm. Thank you
