I’m laying here in bed and all the sudden I’m attacked. Well I guess it didn’t happen like that but sometimes it does.
This time it’s like a roller-coaster ride and I’m really ready to get off.
I feel it coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s like the very beginning of the ride before u get to the big hill. I have this overwhelming sense of love for my little one, a love that is so wonderful. Makes me so proud to be a mommy. I say to myself, this is great I’m so glad I’m doing this.
Then all of a sudden the ride changes and I’m headed up that dreaded hill. I can feel the anxiety coming I feel it at the pit of my stomach and it just keeps building and building. I feel like I cant breath. Like maybe I’m having an asthma attack but I’m not. I want to run but I’m stuck, i’m stuck on this horrid ride. I finally hit the peak and I feel like some one is choking me. Is it going to be rage? Is going to be pity? I put my hands up and free fall because in the end their is no stopping it. All I can do is ride the ride. I try not to scream because I don’t want anyone to know how weak I am. But everything inside of me is yelling please someone help, please someone get me off of this ride. The ride finally slows down and comes to an end and I rejoice because I made it. I made it through another attack and I’m ok.
I vow that if I ride that ride again it will be better next time. That I can handle it. But I don’t look forward to it and I don’t think it will better. All I can do is hope that next time I can be better padded while riding the ride.