A few months back, during a dark, dark season in my life, I sat with my parents at one of their favorite restaurants in North East, Maryland. My depression was rampant, my personality unrecognizable. A shell of myself, I stared out the window and felt the pressure inside my head build.
I wake up in a pool of sweat, mind reeling, room spinning, clutching my chest. Blood soaks the sheets and my fingertips I pull from a gaping hole where my heart once was. I try to take a breath but I can’t, it won’t let me. I shake again, now I’m actually awake. There’s no blood, just a thumping coupled with an uneasiness I hadn’t felt in days and thought I wouldn’t have to feel again, at least for awhile.