How to Get Out of Your Own Head

I can't do it . . .

I can't do it . . .

I can't do it . . .

That was the only thing she could think as she stared down the hallway. This must be what tunnel vision felt like. All woozy and dizzy like the walls were closing in. Unbearable tears oozed from her eyes and her short nails left half-moon dents on her palms.

Suffocating. Paralyzing. The breath of her own indecision puffing down the back of her neck, cold enough to raise goosebumps.

But the eyes that pierced her from every direction were the worst. She could hear the mumbles. "What is wrong with her?" or "What's her problem?"

Realistically, she knew that she shouldn't be upset. She shouldn't have this panic gripping her heart like a vise with long fingernails. All she had to do was walk down this hallway, down the stairs, and out to where her parents were picking her up after school, but this was different.

She was alone.

Following a rough day, she felt weaker than ever. The demons that she had were out to play, and she could no longer distract herself from them.

"Always alone. Even your friends know that you're a waste of time," this sinister voice spoke to her.

It was like the whole room went back, the walls of her mind closing in again, locking her in this lonely cell. She knew she was overthinking, letting herself get in her own head, but she was powerless to stop it.

Quicksand was nibbling at her ankles, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness. Her chest was bubbling up with panic as she grit her teeth and clenched her fists around the straps of her backpack.

A hand gripped her shoulder, tearing her out of the abyss and back into the school hallway. Her head jerked up, eyes watering as her homeroom teacher looked down at her.

"Are you okay, Samantha?" the adult asked her, her eyebrows creased in obvious concern.

To that, Samantha couldn't keep back her tears anymore, and she sobbed. She felt so pitiful, crying into her palms.

"Hey now, there's no reason to cry," her teacher soothed.

"I know that! I just can't stop!" Samantha snapped, snot bubbling from her nose.

Her teacher was quiet for a moment, and then gestured to her classroom. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No! Leave me alone, Mrs. Douglass!" the child argued.

"If that's what you want, but it might make you feel better," Mrs. Douglass proposed.

Samantha crossed her arms tightly, but then she looked back up at her teacher and realized that she might be right. She stomped her feet into Mrs. Douglass's classroom and sat down at her normal desk.

The teacher followed right after the small girl and sat at the desk next to her. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Dani normally walks with me, but she's not here today. Everyone was staring at me and then I thought, what if Dani decided that I wasn't her friend anymore. I don't know . . . it's stupid," Samantha admitted.

"Your feelings are not stupid. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. We all feel like that sometimes. Even at my age. You're only thirteen. It's okay," Mrs. Douglass said.

"You feel like that too?" Samantha asked.

Mrs. Douglass chuckled. "Yes. Sometimes. Do you want to know what helps me?"

Samantha nodded, her tears long dried.

"I plant my feet and I tell those thoughts to leave me alone. You are so much more than just your insecurities. If you let them get to you, then it just gets harder to get out of your own head," she explained.

With one last sniff, Samantha stood up from the desk. "Thank you, Mrs. Douglass, I do feel a little bit better."

Her teacher smiled warmly, nodding her head. "Well, I'm glad you feel better. Do you want me to walk you out to your parents? I think I can pencil you into my schedule," Mrs. Douglass teased.

"No thank you. I think I can do this myself," the child decided, snatching up her backpack and gliding over to the door.

"Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me," the woman reminded her, returning to her desk to grade some new papers.

Samantha stared down that hallway, the walls not as claustrophobic anymore. She took tentative steps down the corridor, several kids glancing at her, but she paid them no mind. The eyes didn't seem so heavy anymore, nor as sharp.

When she got to the staircase, a shadow greeted her, following her down the steps. That cold puff of breath returned down her neck, leaving shivers up and down her arms.

The thoughts clouded her mind again.

"This is what your life will be like. Only thirteen but already so alone."

"You'll amount to nothing."

"No one likes you and they never will."

"You'll never win. You'll always have me."

The thoughts overlapped each other, creating this cavern of echoes in her mind. Her hands grasped her backpack straps, tightening to the point of digging into her own hands.

No.

Not this time.

Samantha planted her feet into the ground, turning to face the shadow of doubt. It didn't have a face. It was only bleak and emotionless. It didn't care about her. It would only consume if Samantha let it.

"Leave me alone!" she roared.

The shadow dissolved into a small, pathetic cockroach, slithering back down into the depths of her mind. It would no doubt return one day, but she was stronger than her insecurities.

"Hey, Samantha! Wait up!" a small voice boomed from the staircase. It was Dani. "I'm so sorry I'm late! I lost my lunchbox, but don't worry I found it," she said, running down the stairs and holding up her lunchbox as emphasis. "I saved you a cookie!"

By the time Dani got to her, she was panting and doubled over, holding a chocolate chip cookie out to Samantha weakly.

Samantha laughed, happily taking the cookie and biting into it. "Thank you."

Dani gave her a thumbs up and they hooked arms. "Can I come over today?"

"Duh," Samantha replied as they walked out into the daylight, trekking over to her mom's minivan.

On the way home, Samantha felt victorious. Now whenever she felt powerless, she knew that she could fight back.