Over Spelt Milk

After breakfast, I got my three-month-old down for a nap and have my toddler entertained by cartoons, I rushed to the table to clean up. Hopefully if I’m quick enough, I’ll have time to do some schoolwork before either one of my children need my attention. Picking up the leftover food and dishes, my pointy elbow knocks over the half-filled glass of milk my toddler didn’t finish. Spilling all over the table, down the table leg and on to the floor. My breathing starts to get heavy.

I walk over to the kitchen to grab a towel. Trying to tell myself to stay calm as my heart starts to pound. My knees become weak like gravity is pulling me down. My heart pounding harder and faster as I try to make it to the counter. Feeling like an elephant is stepping on me, my throat and chest tightens up. Gasping for air but there is no air to grab. I become dizzy, lightheaded and my legs shaking as if I just got off the teacup ride. Feeling smothered and trapped, my body heats up as hot as a locked car in the Arizona desert. I start sweating so bad, it pours out of my skin, making dime size puddles in my palms.

My mind is so fuzzy, I can’t think. Everything is so loud, yet I hear nothing. I hold on to this counter like my life depends on it. I’m hyperventilating while attempting to get air into my lungs. Then finally I’m able to breath, I drop to the ground and began sobbing.

The panic attack I had felt like it lasted forever, however in reality, it only lasted four minutes. Although no one saw what happened, I still felt embarrassed and filled with shame. I had this panic attack over spelt milk. All I wanted to do is crawl into a dark hole and never come out. Instead, I took a couple deep breaths and got up. I wiped my tears away, blew my nose and changed my sweat soaked shirt before my kids notice. Even though I was exhausted and emotionally drained, I went and grabbed the towel, I still had milk to clean up.