In the shadow of chaos

The following is a collection of thoughts I wrote following a panic attack I suffered at Bird Fair last year. My own insecurities borne from my ex wife's infidelity, mixed with alcohol and some silly comments from someone unseen, lead to the perfect storm in my head. I spiralled and found myself alone, admittedly by choice, as I didn't want to derail anyone else's evening. I fell deeper and deeper into my brains quagmire and experienced my first ever panic attack. I tried to capture the feeling of the experience for those who have been fortunate enough, not to have been through it before, I truly hope you never have to!

Since the event, I have undertaken a large degree of self reflection, I have embarked on a journey of healing via therapy and to a large degree, reduced my alcohol intake dramatically. I realise that my own insecurities and trauma lead to this and am determined to put those demons to bed forever! 

Please, never belittle a panic attack, it's not something that someone can just 'Get over" as I was told to do. It is irrational, it can't be helped and is 100% based on deep seated and often subconscious insecurities and genuine fears. If you know someone that suffers, reach out, validation and reassurance are basic human decencies in these moments and cost nothing. Ultimately, be kind!!!

It started as a whisper, a faint tremor beneath my skin, like a distant storm gathering on the horizon. My heart began to race, a wild, uncontrollable rhythm that I can’t slow down, no matter how desperately I try. Each beat felt heavier, louder, as if it was trying to break free from my chest. I felt its thudding in my throat, a pulse that tightens and constricts, making each breath shallower than the last. 

Panic gripped me before I even had a chance to name it, creeping up, slowly at first, until it swelled into a torrent that sweeps away all sense of safety. My mind, a blur, spinning too fast to catch a single coherent thought. I try to breathe, to ground myself, but it’s like drowning in open air. My lungs seize, desperate for breath, but each inhale feels thin, unsatisfying, as though the very air has turned to vapor and slipped through my fingers. My hands trembled, fingers twitching uncontrollably, as though my body has lost its tether to the earth. The world around me warps, sounds distorted, sharp and distant all at once, while light becomes too bright, too overwhelming. My skin prickles, flushed with heat and cold all at once. Every nerve feels frayed, exposed to the elements. I feel untethered, weightless, as though I might drift away into the void if I let go for even a moment. There’s no logic here, no reason. 

Panic isn’t rational, it doesn’t answer to words or thoughts. Instead, it surges through me like a flood, its current pulling me under, sweeping me into a place where nothing feels real anymore. My mind swarms with the impossible, with the worst-case scenarios that bloom unbidden, each one more terrifying than the last. My heart races faster still, like a bird trapped in a cage, slamming against the bars in a desperate bid for escape. My body curls in on itself, muscles clenched, as if trying to shrink from something unseen, something within. My chest tightens, pressure building and building until it feels like I might shatter. I want to scream, but the words are trapped inside me, stuck behind the lump in my throat. 

The world narrows, closing in around me, a dark tunnel where there’s no light at the end. Time stretches, warps each second feels like an eternity, and yet it’s over in a moment. The panic subsides eventually, not because I’ve conquered it, but because it has spent itself. I am left hollow, like a shipwreck washed up on a shore. My body, once taut with fear, feels drained, limp. My muscles ache from the tension, my heart still beats too fast, but it is slower now, the echoes of the storm retreating. But even in the aftermath, there’s a lingering fear. A shadow that tells me it will return again, unbidden, unpredictable. I am left raw, my mind buzzing with exhaustion. 

I close my eyes and breathe, the weight of it all pressing heavy on my chest. And yet, beneath the fear, there is something else. A faint whisper of hope so small, so quiet, I almost miss it. It tells me I have survived this storm before, and I will survive it again. Though the panic tries to isolate me, tries to convince me that I am alone, I know deep down I am not. There are hands waiting to pull me out of the dark, to help me stand when I no longer can.