The Panic Attack

I'm always low-key worried. Just me, just my nature.

It probably has something to do with constantly being yelled at growing up, the fear that if I stepped out of line I'd get a beating or face the wrath of Pookie God of Punishment. Yeah, it's probably all that. Anyway, that and joyful instances of taunting, tournament and bullying growing up has turned me into the anxious and perpetually worried noodle you see today. 

Over the past week, I've just been so consumed by worry over my best mate that I'm barely functioning. I'm playing it cool on the surface, but inside I'm a tangled mess. It came to a head the other day at work when he said that he couldn't take things anymore. I knew what it meant and I panicked. Right there at work. I knocked all the deodorants that I had painstakingly put up. I started to get tunnel vision and I couldn't breathe well. My stomach churned and I thought I was going to vomit all over the aisle. I didn't want to spew on the merchandise because I knew I'd be in trouble for it. I had to sit on the floor. I felt myself starting to cry. Thankfully, I'm a quite cryer and none of my co-workers were around. I needed an escape. I made it to the breakroom and could let it out while rapidly texting him. I couldn't focus on what was going on. I lost all my objectivity and let my emotion, my concern consume me. I was ready to leave work to go check on him. He's more important than a job. I can always get another job, I can't get another one of him. When he stopped texting back I thought I was going to be sick. I even asked him if I should blow off therapy to go see him and he knows how important the therapy is. He told me to just go, that everything would be fine that he just needed some time alone. Hearing that fucking terrified me. I really didn't know what to do. They asked me to stay later at work and I just couldn't. I needed to get the fuck out of there. The place reminded me of him and I couldn't be shamed by my co-workers for showing weakness.

I spent the last hour of my shift fighting off the urge to continue crying and when it was time for my shift to end, I almost ran to get my backpack and ditch. I didn't even change my t-shirt as usual. I ran out of the store doors in my uniform shirt, name badge on full display and jumped on the bus. I fumbled with the coins, spilling them all over the bus floor. I almost lost it. Dropping the coins was like a metaphor for me dropping him, although I hadn't. I managed to get them in the slot (that's what he said) and take a seat. It was flashbacks of Anja that followed me all the way down to therapy. I failed her and she's gone. I can't let him do this. I don't want a repeat of the past. I can't. I don't want to lose him, he's too important, too good a friend. He doesn't deserve this. He deserves a better friend than me. He deserves someone who's not an utter failure. If I was any good Anja wouldn't have killed herself. This can't fucking happen again.

The past week I've lived in fear that he will shut me out, be gone forever or hurt himself in his upset. I'm so on edge I can't really eat. My insides hurt. At least I can sleep, that's the only thing I can do right now. I feel so drained from the anxiety and work. I just want to be able to work everything out so he's okay and I don't have any more panic attacks. I've been a long time since I've had one to this degree but he's given me two of this magatude this week. I love him to bits (yes men can love their friends without homosexual tedencies. I hate that I have to say this for some people.) and I want him to be okay. He knows that I'm willing to anything for a friend if they let me. And I want him to let me,