The Cougar Review

By April

I walked into my school’s office

And all I really remember was the black rimmed glasses sitting on the nose of the guy at the front desk,

The blur of tiles beneath my feet,

The nurses looking at me with confusion…or maybe worry,

And hearing myself stutter, “It’s kind of hard to breathe.”

“I mean- maybe it’s ok. It’s happened before, and I was fine…

Actually it’s happened a lot…It just starts up and I…I feel like- like I can’t breathe. Like…it happened yy-yesterday…”

And then my words turn into sobs because it happened yesterday,

It happened the day before that,

And the day before that,

And two days after that

Or maybe it was one day after that,

I don’t remember,

I just know it happened and happened and happened

And what could I do?

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what the heck I was going through.

I thought maybe the nurses had an answer, so now I was standing in front of them with a statement and a bucket of tears,

And after sitting me down, they checked my vitals. I waited for them to say that my oxygen intake was horrible. That the doctors could fix all my problems with a quick swallow of a pill.

That everything was going to be alright.

But they told me my oxygen intake was perfect…

And my heart was racing– speeding down the highway and ignoring all the speed limit signs.

They said “sweetie, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

That’s not the answer I wanted. Send it back. Look at it again. There must be an error. It’s just not possible that this sporadic month of breathing problems has been a continuous loop of panic attacks. It just isn’t. My anxiety isn’t that bad

…Is it?

The nurses seemed to believe it.

They told me to breathe. Slowly. In. Out. In. Out. Just breathe. They said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. I guess it should have been.

They told me it was going to be okay. But I wanted a different okay– a physical pill or medicine that would make everything go away in a snap.

They gave me breathing exercises and a counselor instead. My therapist gave me meditation scripts for anxiety too. Even those scripts mostly talked about slow breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I was getting so sick of those words. But after sitting on my bed and reciting meditation scripts for a few days, I realized those words were important for my health. For feeling calmer and not on the verge of a panic attack. And all in all, my mental health is 100% worth taking a few minutes to stop in my tracks, meditate, and take slow breaths.