My Heart was Fighting to Beat
I woke up in the middle of the night, for the second time this week, something feeling wrong with my body. I felt like the weight of the air was crushing my chest, anxiety filled the room like a thick fog. My heart wasn’t racing so much as it seemed to be fighting to beat. Fear began to set in. It was another attack, my depression was trying to suffocate me in my sleep.
I tried to reason with myself, telling myself that everything was going to be ok. Telling myself that felt like a lie, I felt like I would die there. I began to imagine the scene that would unfold inside the safety of my bedroom, my safe place, when they found me. Would they know that it was the depression that stole the air from me as I slept? Would they know that I so desperately tried to survive? Would they know that depression and anxiety had waken me during the darkness of night and I’d fought my hardest to beat it?