After returning from my hometown, everything seemed to return to normal. I was going to work, cooking, and spending time with my husband. Life felt good again, and I was grateful for the peace I had found. But then, one day, everything changed unexpectedly.
It was around 4 AM when I woke up feeling like something was terribly wrong. My body felt frozen, and I couldn’t understand what was happening. I tried to calm myself, but my heart was pounding fast, and I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. My body began to shake uncontrollably, and I couldn’t even move. I lay there, unable to do anything but wait for my husband to wake up and help me.
When he finally woke up, he was shocked to see me in such a state. I was terrified and confused, unsure of what was happening to me. I felt like I couldn’t control my body or my emotions. The fear was so intense, but I didn’t have the words to explain it. All I knew was that something was wrong, and I needed help.
I stayed in bed, trying to breathe through the fear and the shaking. My husband tried to comfort me, but I couldn’t seem to calm down. I didn’t understand why it happened, but I knew I had to get through it somehow. It was one of the most terrifying experiences I had faced, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the anxiety had returned, stronger than before.
But despite the intense panic, I reminded myself that this too would pass. It wasn’t easy, and I still felt the lingering fear, but I had learned to manage it with time. I held on to the belief that, no matter how intense these episodes were, I would find a way to handle them. And I wasn’t alone—my husband was there to support me through every wave of anxiety, helping me stay grounded and reminding me that I could get through it.
As I lay there, fighting with the anxiety, my husband had to leave for work. The morning was getting late, and I was left alone with my thoughts and fears. I tried to calm myself, but the anxiety was overwhelming. I went for a shower, praying hard for strength to remove this heavy feeling that was consuming me. I needed to gain control again, but it felt impossible.
Once I finished my shower, I decided to drive to work, though the anxiety still gripped me. I called my aunt, who was back in my hometown, as I had shared many of my personal struggles with her in the past. I couldn’t tell my parents because I knew they would worry, and I didn’t want to cause them stress. This was the first time I was revealing to my family how bad things had gotten.
I cried as I spoke to my aunt, explaining how I felt like something bad was going to happen to me. I couldn’t control my emotions or my body. She listened patiently, telling me stories about my other aunt who had experienced something similar. She reassured me that I wasn’t alone and encouraged me to try to focus, pray, and divert my mind from the panic. I tried to listen, but I could hardly concentrate. All I could think about was how I felt like I was spiraling out of control.
I finally arrived at the office, but the anxiety didn’t ease. It only intensified. I kept trying to breathe, but it felt like I couldn’t. I kept calling my husband, explaining to him how I was getting worse. I felt dehydrated, short of breath, and dizzy. He, too, became stressed because he couldn’t be there to help me. He was at work, and I was alone, battling my own body and mind.
By lunchtime, I was still struggling. I called my aunt again while I ate, and talking to her helped a little. It was like a small relief in the midst of the chaos. She calmed me down, and I could feel the anxiety easing just a bit. But as the afternoon went on, the panic attacks came back, this time more intense than before. It felt like a wave crashing over me, and I couldn’t find a way to escape.
I kept hoping for the storm to pass, but in that moment, all I could do was hold on and pray that I could manage until I could be with my husband again.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
