Once I understood what a panic attack was, that I wasn’t going crazy or having a heart attack, I tried to remember when I’d had my first one. I thought if I could figure out when they started, there might be an event or even a person that I could blame. Instead, what I realized was that I’d been having them since I was a child. More than likely, my body chemistry is to blame. The first panic attack that I can
remember in any sort of detail happened when I was about eight years old. I
didn’t have to hide that I was crying.
The tears were invisible against the pool water that dripped down my face
from the green tips of my chlorine stained hair. Linda swam over to the edge, close enough
that only I could hear her. “Damn it, Jill, quit
being such a baby and just jump,” she hissed. © Salahub 2003 |