Holding her breath.

( Trigger warning the following contains violence and mental health themes. )

I just woke up. My chest is tight and I cannot breathe. "This must be an asthma attack", I think to myself. I started to try to control my breaths, but it's not working. This is one of those night time attacks and they are much worse. I start to panic a little trying to recount where my inhaler is. It's my purse, all the way in the living room.

I hear a shuffle by the house on the otherside of the room. The skirting of the trailer bends in making a noise. An angry yet nervous voice proclaims " I'm going to kill you!". Then I hear click, click,click. My only thought it was a revolver. They sounded disgruntled. I didn't recognize their voice, and they groaned after the clicking as if they couldn't get it to go off.

I took in a breath and held it, for fear that my breathing heavy would give away my position in the room. My chests tissue felt a piercing tare. I let out the breath in full panic. I couldn't breathe. I had to get to the inhaler. The skirting moved again. I heard nothing again.

I got up and it was right where I remembered last. All I could think about is the man who wanted me dead outside each breath I released loudly. I started to get the attack under control but what am I supposed to do. I walked around as lightly as I could. I decided I was in no shape to confront them.

The panic from minutes passing had settled me down. Should I call the police? What if they're already gone? What if its's my voices in my head, and I get introuble for wasting the polices time? What if they're outside waiting? I grabbed my phone. I went back into the bedroom against the wall trying to hear them. I said "I'm calling the police". I didn't but was in a moment of courage and stupidity as I wasn't sure what to do.

My breathing had settled back to normal and tiredness from the adrenaline set in. I laid back in bed and slept.

I had no idea how close I was to death, just that the timing of two attacks, both my asthma and an unknown man had it in for me that night. I felt shook up. Somehow hearing voices had never got so scary, I couldn't tell if someone was there or not but the everything seemed real. I felt like a blind person, a new type of vulnerability presented itself. I vowed to go outside next time I heard a noise, to be brave so I know the difference. I sobbed for days on end, I wasn't brave I thought. I kept repeating that " I can't breathe" replaying it in my mind. Now one of my triggers for asthma is a mental trigger too, I laugh because it's too stressful and is almost ironic.

I have been hearing voices for years on end. I got diagnosed as Schizophrenic. It's just a label to me at this point. The voices always some how came through the radio, the mower, the wind of cars passing by or it was an implanted chip I had in my head. Never before was there a person so close to me talking. What a way that introducing itself was, or the way he introduced himself was. I still don't know if there was a man that night. Not knowing what to believe, my experience or diagnosis of that I hear voices.

As I lay in bed sobbing I hear suddenly " I am here. " in a very gentle way. I didn't know this person. The sidding of the house creaked as if he was leaning on it. I got silent, overwhelmed with delight. I sprung up and turned on a favorite song as if it were my response. I then realized I was being rude to them. I grabbed a flashlight and went outside. There was nobody. I looked around shinning the light. Nothing. I thought maybe he was too shy and again that I was not brave enough taking too long to go outside. I thought about the guy who said good morning to the cats which is another whole story itself. I thought it must have been him. So now I'm not brave enough for a guy who hates me and one that loves me. Days passed and I kept crying as my world was in shambles. About a month later I hear " I'm here, baby" and then sidding of the house creak by weight again. I got upset with the game, I went outside and again there was nobody. Now I think it's nobody but just me and a creaky house.

I feel embarrassed buying into the voices that tell me nice things. The amount of time I've spent on imaginary people. The amount of emotion I've given them too. I've been in therapy and was told that they're just random voices and to try not to engage with them. Well, I spent maybe a solid year of the opposite buying into things and waiting for someone imaginary to "return". I thought I had accepted my diagnosis, but really I think I was accepting it by letting it take over fully. Side skip ahead in time, to the time I was in the phsyciatric ward, and there was a fire started by someone. I was shut into my room not knowing what was going on. I thought a riot was taking place and that one of my nice talking imaginary friend was going to break me out. I had wasted time but again I thought they were real. I don't have imaginary friends anymore. They maybe got me through some hard times but added to them.

It's been years since the asthma attack event and I get chest pains ever since. I've talked to my doctor and got an EKG that turned out normal. Next is a the treadmill stress test for my heart. I still hear voices and have asthma but my asthma seems to be incontrol better. I'm reliving the moment as I type and am not fully healed mentally but I've got to go on.