Silent Screams

Pacing back and forth, pulling at my hair, face red, tears streaming, my mouth wide open.

Nothing but silence is heard around me.

But inside my head? The screams of a thousand banshees.

Rage, fire, hurt, sadness, helplessness, hopelessness…despair.

It must all be kept inside. None can be let out. It’s not safe to let it out.

If one single sound escapes, everything could come crashing down.

I would be buried by the noise. I won’t allow myself to be buried.

I must remain within the illusion of control. It’s the only control I have.

When there is mastery over nothing, there must be mastery over myself.

That is my control…illusion or not. That is my strength. That is my power.

I begin to remember.

I can be strong. I can have power.

Can’t I?

Yes.

I must be strong. I must take back my power.

The banshees become a dull roar.

The pacing slows. It stops.

I gently comb through my hair with my fingers.

The tears stop flowing.

Inhale. Exhale. Again.

I look in the mirror and I remember.

I remember who I want to be, who I’m striving to be.

I remember my strength, my power.

I remember me.

I’ve silenced the screams.

I suffer from terrible anxiety/panic attacks due to my ADHD, autism, anxiety, and depression. I wrote this shortly after having a particularly bad one about a year ago. For those that are lucky enough to not suffer from these kinds of attacks but have someone in your life that does, maybe this will give you just a small bit of understanding. They can be debilitating, crippling. They can and will show up at the worst possible time. Sometimes I can hold them off, but in the end, when they inevitably come, they are twice as bad. Please don’t suffer through these alone. Let someone know and help if they can. I made the mistake of hiding mine for most of my life, until one day I couldn’t hold one off. Unfortunately, my husband was there. He saw me sitting on the bed, rocking back and forth, my hand over my mouth holding back sobs, tears streaming down my face, and eventually started to hyperventilate. It scared him to death. He didn’t know what to do for me, how to help me. I couldn’t tell him in that moment because I’d gone non-verbal. He did what he could do. He held me. Once it was over and I had calmed down, he asked me why I had hid that from him. I could see the hurt in his eyes. We talked. I told him I didn’t want to burden him, or anyone for that matter, with my panic attacks. I still don’t want him to see me like that. He understands. Whenever I feel one coming on and he’s there, I tell him what’s happening and go into the bathroom till it’s over. I know if I need him, he’ll be there for me. ❤️