It’s been over a week since my panic attack on an airplane, 6 days since sharing my story publicly, and guess what? I’m still standing. Still alive. I still have friends. I’m still me.
Yet I’m not the same.
I was broken only to be built back up by love. My shattered heart was mended by band aids of grace. My tears were soaked up with tissues of understanding.
Never have I felt such compassion from others. Never have I felt lifted up by strangers. Never did I think my story would resonate the way it did, even from those who have never felt panic.
I want to continue to be a voice for those who are suffering in silence. I literally have no idea how I’m going to do that right now, but my heart is leading me in a new direction that I want to explore.
If you are someone who suffers from panic disorder, anxiety disorders, or have had panic attacks, know you have a friend and ally in me. I hope to put out more content on a weekly basis regarding these mental illnesses. Standing together, we can fight this unseen battle that so many women face.
For whatever reason, I was meant to have that panic attack last week. I may not know why yet, but one day I will.
I really felt the need to say thank you. To all of my friends and followers who took a moment to reach out. Whether to offer words of support, virtual hugs, or to those who shared your story with me, I truly appreciate each of you. You were my band aids and tissues. Your love renewed my own sense of faith in myself. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.