What you need to know is that I have tried to write this over a hundred times, but it never comes out how I want it to. So today, I am just going to write, and deal with whatever I forgot to put in here later on. I will probably remember at like, 2 in the morning and then I will stare at the ceiling with anxiety, but that's whatever.

I have written about my Panic Disorder once or twice before, but not to this extent. My main goal is to help people who are struggling and who feel like there is no way out--like I did all throughout middle and high school. I can tell that some people don't want to hear about my disorder whenever I talk about it in person. That's fine. I have gotten to the point in my life where I will not be silent about this large part of who I am. This is not for the people who don't understand. This is for the people who want to understand, the people who are struggling, the people who need it.

Fade in:

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night. You are supposed to be asleep, but a rigid feeling in your gut jerks you awake. Sweat rolls down every pore of your body. You can feel that your back and chest are drenched in it. It's sticky and it doesn't help the overwhelming nausea. You stay there, on your back for what feels like an hour, trying to get up the courage to roll over on your side. You pray and hope that rolling over will make your stomach stop somersaulting.

With a low groan, you finally roll over, but this makes things worse. Your head pounds. Your heart rate feels ten times higher than what it probably is. You feel like this could very well be a heart attack. You are barely breathing, but you don't notice, because the anxiety tells you that there is no room for oxygen inside of your lungs. The anxiety tells you that you can live without it. You lay there. You clutch your throat. Tell yourself that you are going to die. "I'm going to die."

Minutes go by slowly, and each minute feels like an hour. You save up all of your courage to go to the bathroom. It's only ten feet away. You convince yourself that you can make it. You sit up slowly, and that's when you feel bile at the back of your throat. An unwanted antagonist appearing to spite you. You make it to the bathroom, and barely make it to the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach into the already dirty toilet bowl. You realize that you should have cleaned this toilet, but it's too late now.

You rest your cheek on the toilet, grasping the bowl like they are holding on for dear life. That's when you notice that your fingertips and your toes have gone numb. You dig one of your fingernails into the fleshy part of your thumb. You feel nothing.

Your stomach is empty, but is still struck with violent spasms when you move. You lay back onto the dirty tile floor. Slowly. The cold tile feels nice on your head, but you continue to sweat. You tilt your head to the side and stare at one of your hands. It's good to focus one one object. Your eyes are heavy, but your heart keeps you wide awake in fear. It pushes adrenaline throughout your veins. You will not feel normal for quite awhile.

You lay there for a long time. Your body shakes. Your breathing is shallow, almost nonexistent. You breathe only enough to remain alive, even though you don't it. You muster up enough courage to take a shower. In the shower, you can't stand, so you sit. The scalding hot water runs from the tops of your head, all the way down. It mixes with the tears falling down your pale cheeks. After thirty minutes or so, you get out. You dry off. You put on clean clothes, because your old ones smell like sweat and puke. You return to bed, only to notice you have to be up in an hour.

You take in a deep breath for the first time. The worst is over. Until next time.

Fade out.

When you don't know what's wrong with you, having a panic attack is the scariest thing in the entire world. Especially when you figure out that it is not a one time occurrence.

You never know when they will come, though mine usually happen at night before bed, or while I am asleep. Something called Nocturnal Panic Attacks. Panic attacks affect everyone differently, but here are the main symptoms: racing heart, nausea, unable to breathe, or strained breathing, feeling weak and fatigued, numb fingertips and toes, feeling like you are going to die, etc.

I was misdiagnosed after my first attack when I was 11 years old with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I was not put on medication, but as I got older and looked up the symptoms of GAD, I knew that it wasn't what I had. I diagnosed myself with Panic Disorder when I was 17 years old, after being fed up with the attacks I was getting weekly. I did my research and compared symptoms. Eventually, an amazing therapist diagnosed me as well.

After my diagnosis, things got better. My therapist talked me through ways to cope with my attacks. Medication also helped me out immensely, though medication is not for everyone, and affects everyone differently.

If any of this sounds familiar, I urge you to seek outside help. It's hard to reach out. I waited for way too long, and if it hadn't been for my amazing parents, maybe I never would have.

Panic Disorder is a pain. Some days are easier than others. But it also makes you so strong. You may feel very alone at times, but know that there are always people around who want to help you.

And here are some tips and tricks for surviving a panic attack: