"cry, let that water go, you were drowning"

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Today has been one of those weird days. I've been anxious and on edge from the moment I woke up.

I've been keeping myself busy studying and baking but while it is distracting me, it's done nothing to actually help the anxiety rising in my chest. It's more so a bandaid, not a cure.

The worst part is, I'm not sure why I'm feeling like this, which means it feels next to impossible to try and calm myself down. Luckily, it's about 10:00 PM which means I've managed to get through most of the day without it getting out of control.

The timer beeps, tearing me from my thoughts, and I put on my oven mitt to pull out the batch of cookies I made.

The scent fills the kitchen and invades my nostrils.

Until it doesn't.

Out of seemingly nowhere, my attachment to reality is severed. Suddenly, I can't smell, hear, or see anything, and I know the panic attack has started.

Shit.

My vision is blurry, my ears are ringing, and my head is pounding. I can no longer feel my hands or feet and I feel an overwhelming urge to run to the bathroom and expel all the contents of my stomach.

I need to take deep breaths, I think to myself. I inhale through my nose and exhale out through my mouth like I've done so many times before, but air doesn't seem to be reaching my lungs. My racing heart is all I can focus on and when I feel lightheaded, I know I've begun to hyperventilate.

"It's going to be okay. I'm fine. I'm safe. This will pass," I mutter to myself in hopes it'll ground me. But it doesn't work and what should be a tool to stop the panic, is merely words with no meaning.

Shaking like a leaf, I grasp the edge of the countertop and lower myself onto the floor. I can't be standing right now. I lean back, resting my head on the cabinets behind me, and shut my eyes tight.

"It's going to– to be o–okay," I barely get out through sobs. "Th–this will p–p–pass." Talking myself down is no use, so I give up on repeating any sort of comforting words.

I rest my head in my hands, and just let myself cry. I know I've reached a point of no return. Unfortunately, now it's just a waiting game. I have to ride this out and, if luck is on my side, I'll eventually tire myself out enough to stop.

"Dell, we're home!" I think I hear someone call out, but I can't be sure. My head feels like it's underwater, and making sense of anything feels like an unthinkable task. I can only hope whoever just walked into the house will find me and pull me out from my own thoughts.

"Delaney? Where are you? We brought you something!" I detect another familiar voice, this one deeper. Using all of the energy I have left, I try my best to clear my head, and I realize Chase and Jemma just got home.

I manage to make out the sound of footsteps coming my way and a small wave of relief hits me.

"Oh my god," Jemma whispers mostly to herself. "Chase, she's over here!" she yells to my brother who I presume went upstairs to look for me. She kneels down to meet me on the floor and clasps my head in her hands, forcing me to look up. I pry my eyes open and catch a glimpse of her blurry figure through my tears.

I feel my brother's presence beside me as he joins both me and Jemma on the floor and places a comforting hand on my knee. The two of them look over at each other, exchanging similarly concerned glances, and I feel bad.

I hate worrying them.

They've seen me like this for what feels like a million times before. But, I know it never gets easier for them. A look of unease coats their face, the same look they had the very first time this happened to me and every other time since then. Although in a very different way, this hurts them as much as it hurts me.

"Dell, what do you need from us?" Chase asks but I can tell he knows his question is meaningless. He knows as well as I do I can't really talk nor do I know how to fix this.

"Oh, honey." Jemma's voice breaks. "You're hyperventilating. You need to breathe with us, okay?"

A think I nod my head.

The two of them sit in front of me, leading me through a breathing exercise that usually helps me but I can't slow down my breaths enough for it to help.

I don't realize how bad I'm shaking until Chase places his arms on my legs, using all his strength and weight to keep me from trembling. Jemma moves on to the next technique, desperate to stop my panic attack. "Name five things you can see."

I try to look around the room and focus enough to list five words, but I literally can't. My vision is too blurry to see anything and I'm beyond calming myself down to fix it.

"Dell, it'll help, I promise," Chase tells me, sadness weaving through his voice.

I look up at both of them and I let out another sob. My brows furrow and my lip quivers and I break down once more.

Jemma and Chase stand up, leaving me cuddled into myself on the floor. I'm not able to process their words but I can at least hear their whispered conversation.

"Chase, I don't know what to do. I've never seen her this bad."

"I know, I know, me neither."

"I'm scared for her." I can tell Jemma is on the verge of tears.

"Do we call 911? Maybe she needs actual medical help." My brother's words snap me out of my own spiral enough to speak.

He can't call 911.

I won't go to the hospital for this.

Calm down, Laney, I will myself.

You are not going to the hospital.

"No," I mumble but I don't think they hear it.

"Chase, don't," I say louder this time and they turn around to face me.

Jemma's eyes go wide when she realizes I was the one talking, and she sits back down beside me. She rubs up and down my back in comforting strokes and gives me a small smile. "Hi, Dell." Her words are just barely a whisper, filled with relief that I actually spoke. "What do you need? I'll go get whatever it is."

I don't even think before I say, "Sterling." My instinctive answer surprises myself but when my words sink in, I know that's exactly what I need.

"Got it," Chase says before he disappears on his phone to call Sterling.

Suddenly, my short-lived sense of clarity washes away and is replaced by another strong wave of panic.

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I down the last sip of my smoothie and pick up my phone from the counter when I hear it ring. Chase's contact picture illuminates the screen and my heart drops. Sure, the two of us a good friends, but I don't get a lot of calls from him.

I might be overreacting, but my gut tells me something is wrong.

"Chase?" I answer the call.

"It's Delaney, she needs you. We're at her house."

I don't even bother replying before I hang up and get into my car as fast as possible.

Breaking probably a dozen traffic laws, I arrive as soon as I can and I walk straight into the house.

"We're in here!" I follow Jemma's voice into the kitchen and my heart shatters at the image in front of me. Both Chase and Jemma are seated next to Laney who's curled into a small ball. Her head is buried in her hands and she's shaking uncontrollably.

"What happened?" I ask Chase who stood up when he noticed me enter the room.

"We don't know. We got home and just found her like this. She hasn't said a word except for when she asked for you."

I nod my head, showing my understanding of the situation, and take Jemma's spot when she gets up and walks over to Chase.

"Hi, love." I stroke her hair and she lifts her head up, her bloodshot eyes meeting my own.

"Sterling?" Her tone is so quiet making her pain evident.

"Yeah, baby. I'm here."

She wraps her shaky arms around my neck and I pick her up, holding her tight to my chest as I walk us upstairs and to her room.

I place her down on the bed and she doesn't look at me, she just stares into space, her entire body trembling in fear. Her chest rises and falls quickly making it clear she still can't breathe properly, and tears continue to stream down her pale cheeks.

"Laney, you have to take some deep breaths. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight."

I start, breathing in through my nose for four seconds and she tries her best to join me. But, she just hiccups and lets out another cry. She looks up at me and shakes her head.

I hold her hands tightly in mine, squeezing them partly to stop the shaking and partly to try and ground her. Sobs rack her body and I'm worried if she doesn't stop soon, she'll pass out. There's no way she's getting enough oxygen into her body right now.

"Sterling," she pleads. "Make it stop."

My heart shatters into a million pieces.

"I wish I could, baby. But I don't know how." I tell her, hating that I can't do the one thing she needs from me.

"You're having a panic attack, Laney. This is going to pass, I promise you."

Her whimpers fill the small room and I force myself to stay strong for her.

"Can you name five things you can see for me?" I try my best to find something to ground her. Something to stop this. Something to help her.

She shakes her head and I feel even more defeated. I can't watch her go through this but even the things that usually help her aren't working right now.

She stares into my eyes, terror evident within them, piercing straight through my chest. Her arms wrap around my neck as she clings onto me and cries into my body, every piece of me cracking because I don't know how to help her.

Laney is the greatest person I know. She doesn't deserve to have to go through this.

No one does.

"This is my own fault," she says, both anger and despair laced through her words.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's all in my head. They're my own thoughts. But I can't even control them enough to stop it. I'm in pain and the only person to blame it is myself." Laney's voice breaks as she utters each sentence.

"This is not your fault. Do you hear me Delaney? Please don't blame yourself for this. You're the strongest person I know. We're gonna get through this, together."

"I'm weak. I'm too weak. I can't do this."

"You're breaking my heart, baby. You can. You can do this. You're stronger than this, you can fight it. I know it," I murmur into her neck.

I just hold her close to me and rub small circles across her back. "It's going to be okay," I whisper repeatedly, praying my words become a reality.

It kills me that she has always there for me and the one time she needs me, the one time she lets herself be vulnerable enough to show it, I can't do anything.

Eventually, her breathing slows and she stops crying, her body clearly overly exhausted. When I feel her finally fall asleep I let out a breath of relief, grateful she's not in pain anymore.

I give myself a few minutes to keep her wrapped in my arms, savouring the feeling of her now peaceful breathing, before I gently place her down on her pillow and tuck her in.

I quickly go downstairs to let Jemma and Chase know she's okay and they share the same sense of relief I just felt. I leave the two of them alone and join Laney in her room, watching over her and feeling grateful that she's okay.

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I want to make sure people know I don't write chapters like this to romanticize anxiety and panic attacks. As someone who knows and understands how difficult they are, I would never do that. The purpose of me writing these are to show the reality of what one looks like. I hope by writing them you guys feel seen and understood.

I want this book to serve as a safe space, the same way it acts as one for me. In a way, this book allows me to express my emotions and feelings I don't usually expose, specifically through chapters like these. I hope that makes sense.

I've dealt with an anxiety disorder and panic attacks for close to 10 years and throughout them, I've developed coping mechanisms and tips. If you guys ever want advice or help, I'd be happy to share what I know.

Question of the chapter: What advice do you have for people who may be going through something similar?

Reach out to me if you ever need anything through both Instagram DM's and Wattpad messages.

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Stay safe and healthy <3