C'est La Vie

Tonight was rough. I got through it. My heart fluttered and my stomach was hurting and I panicked. My panic disorder and hypochondria and anxiety pulled out the rug from underneath me and I ate shit. I was screaming. I rush to the hospital I’m dying. I can’t breathe. I have two masks on. I’m still in the middle of a pandemic. I’m crying, I get to the check in site where they ask me about covid and they tell sorry ma’am it has to be just you. Your boyfriend has to wait outside. I couldn’t control my crying. But I’m scared. I’m terrified. In that moment I believe whole-heartedly that I am dying and I am praying and I am remembering those I love and how much I love them and how much I will miss them. Breathe Joey. I have an ekg done and they take me to a bed they take all kinds of blood tests and whatnot and I am diagnosed with a peptic ulcer. I am okay. I made it. I didn’t die. I survived my panic attack. I survived my anxiety. Just because that bitch got me tonight doesn’t mean I’m a failure. Mental illness exists and it is not a weakness. One day at a time.