I’m sitting at my desk, The Spill Canvas is playing on the Google Home speaker behind my laptop.
As I’m mindlessly scrolling through Facebook, I stop on a Portlandia skit about organic chickens. The video auto-plays, but the sound is off.
All of a sudden, I can’t hear the music anymore. It’s still playing, but my heart rate is louder and it’s all I can hear.
“What the fuck?” I think to myself. “There were no triggers. None. What the fuck. Oh fuck. This is a heart attack, not a panic attack. It can’t be a panic attack if there are no triggers. I’m having a goddamn heart attack.”
By now my head is throbbing and I’m sure I’m about to die at my desk.
“Fucking stop it.” I tell myself. “Stop being a little bitch. YOU’RE FINE.”
Still alive. Still very much an anxious fucking mess. And now apparently there doesn’t have to be a trigger I can identify to cause a fucking panic attack.