Gasping for Air, Asking for Help

I know when to ask for help. It may be one of the elements of me that kinda freaks people out. I'm not afraid to reach out, now, and say that I'm struggling.

When I was younger, I held my pain inside. I self-mutilated as an escape. The scar in the shape of a broken heart on my ankle is a constant reminder to ask for help.

Today, I thought I had it under control. I was doing well all day and was surprised when I was on the phone with a friend and realized what today was. December 29th. My sister's birthday. Also, the birthday of my husband's child from his affair.

After the call, I didn't give it much thought. I had other things going on, other stresses, other tasks.

However, around five, when Jose was headed home with the kids, it started to gnaw at me. I started to think about the other chick. I can still see her face exactly as if I had just spent time with her yesterday. I see her smug smile. I see her pain. I think about my encounters with her. I remember the questioning her truth when she said she was pregnant. I think about going to the restaurant where she works when she was pregnant and not being able to tell if she had a baby belly or if she was just gaining weight. I remember going to a lawyer with my husband, asking what to do. I think about the phone call that came around this time last year, saying that she had had the baby. I think about the screaming matches on the phone over a paternity test. I go over the decision that was made for her to be a single mom and not wanting a thing from my husband. I think about the freezing cold night in a parking lot watching them do a test. I remember the baby crying in the car. I think about the tears in the car afterwards, my husband knowing that he was mere feet away from a daughter that he would never see. I remember getting the test results, 99.93% positive. I remember a fleeting moment of losing hope, giving up on everything.

But I couldn't. We returned to counseling for a second time. I felt like everywhere I turned, there was a reminder. Her name is Sophia. My best friend's daughter is Sophia. I met at least ten people that week named Sophia. But, after awhile, we became "normal" again. But this baby was always in the back of our minds.

Recently, it's pressed a little harder on our hearts. My cousin, who just so happens to have the last name as the other chick, is pregnant. With a girl. Who will be named Sophia. Holidays approached. Today came. And, I held strong. I won't say that I'm a model survivor, but I have survived and our marriage has survived.

So, today, when Jose came home, it was there. Fresh in my mind. And he was in a foul mood (which I later found out was because it was also fresh on his mind). Within moments, instead of going out for dinner as planned, I found myself frozen in my chair, on the brink of a panic attack.

And I willed it away. I prayed it away. I begged and pleaded for it to go away. And, like the pregnancy didn't go away, neither did my panic attack.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, pleading with God to either kill me or let me breathe. I didn't want my kids to see me like that. I wanted Jose to comfort me. I wanted air. At one point, Jose said something about me over-exaggerating and all I could get out of my mouth was "Fuck you." I wasn't my intended response at all, but I was hurting and I couldn't find enough oxygen in my body to say more. Shortly after that, the loud gasping for air came. The choking. The burning inside my chest, begging for oxygen. For minute after minute, I sat paralyzed in the chair, chest heaving, wanting to claw my way through my chest and manually make my lungs work.

Then, it ended. And I sat, unmoving, from exhaustion. I melted, allowing my body to sink into itself after being ridgid and tense for so long. And eventually, I wiped my tears, and continued on with my evening.

I am going to call our therapist tomorrow and make an appointment. I have only ever had three panic attacks. One was this spring and was work related. One was this fall and was affair related. And then, there was today. That is more than enough in my opinion and I never want to have one ever again, if I can do anything about it. I may be strong, but I need help.

Today was a tough day.

Tomorrow will be better.